My Secret Life, Volumes I. to III. - The Original Classic Edition. Anonymous Anonymous
Читать онлайн книгу.
and could not do it whilst she looked at me. I recollect my bashfulness perfectly, and more than that, my fear of saying what I wanted to say.
She bent her ear to my mouth. "I heard you piddle." "Oh! you naughty!" and she burst into a quiet laugh. "I'll take care to shut the door in future." I let my hand drop by the side of the sofa, laid hold of her
ankle, then the calve of her leg (without resistance); then up I slid it gently, and gradually above her garter, and felt the flesh; she was threading a needle. As I touched the thigh, she pressed both hands down on to her thighs, barring further investigation. "Now, Wattie, you're
taking too much liberty, because I've let you feel my ankles." I whined, I moaned. "Oh do dear, do, kiss me dear; only for a minute." I tried
very gently to push my hand (it was my left hand) further. "What do you want?" "I want to feel it, oh! kiss me--let me,--do,--Betsy, do," and I raised my head.
Sitting bent forward towards me as I lay, until she was nearly double,
she put her lips to mine and kissing me said: "What a rude, boy you are, what do you expect to find?" "I know what it's called, and it's hairy,
isn't it, dear?" Her hands relaxed, she laughed, my left hand slid up, until I felt the bottom of her belly. I could only twiddle my fingers in the hair, could feel no split, or hole, was too excited to think, too
ignorant of the nature of the female article; but oh the intense delight I felt at the touch of the warm thighs, and the hair, which now I knew was outside the cunt, somewhere, I recollect my delight perfectly.
She kept on kissing me, saying in a whisper, "what a rude boy you are."
Then I whispered modestly, all I had read, told of the Aristotle I had
48
hidden in my cupboard, and she asked me to lend her the book. I touched nothing but hair, her thighs must have been quite closed, and a big
stay-bone dug into my hand and hurt it, as I moved it about. I have felt that obstacle to my enterprise in years later on, with other women.
Then came over me a voluptuous sensation, as if I was fainting with pleasure, I seem to have a dream of her lips meeting mine, of her saying oh! for shame I of the tips of my fingers entangling in hair, of the warmth of the flesh of her thighs upon my hand, of a sense of moisture on it, but I recollect nothing more distinctly.
Afterwards she seems to have absorbed me. I ceased speaking to her sister, and could think of nothing but her neck, legs and the hair at the bottom of her belly. I was several times in the same room with her, and was permitted the same liberties, but no others. I lent
her Aristotle, which I had borrowed, and one day recollect my prick stiffening, and a strange overwhelming, utterly indescribable feeling coming over me, of my desire to say to her "cunt," and to make her feel me, and at the same time a fear and a dread overtook me, that my cock was not like other cocks, and that she might laugh at me. After that, I used to pull the skin down violently every day, I bled, but succeeded;
it became slightly easier to do so, yet I have no recollection of having a desire to fuck that woman, all that I recollect of my sensations I have here described.
I was still ill, for there was brought me to my bed at nights, a cup of arrowroot. My mother usually did this, but sometimes the big woman did, I was so glad, when my mother did not. Then I would kiss her as if I never wanted to part with her, put my hand out of bed, scramble it up
49
her clothes, till I could feel the hair. Then she would jut her bum
back, so that I could not touch more. One night my prick stood, "Take the light outside," I said, "I've something to say to you." The door was half open when she had complied; the gleam of the light struck across the room, my bed was in the shade, "do let me feel you further, dear
and kiss me." "You naughty boy!" but we kissed. Again I felt her thighs, belly and hair. "What good does it do you, doing that," she said. I took hold of her hand, and put it under the bedclothes on to my prick. She bent over me, kissing and saying "naughty boy," but feeling the cock, and all round it, how long, I can't say, "oh! I'd like to feel your
hole," I said. "Hish!" said she, going out of the room, and closing the
door.
She felt me several times afterwards. When my mother brought me the arrowroot, she having an idea, that I liked her to do so, I would not take it, saying it was too hot. She said, "I can't wait, Wattie, while
it cools." "Don't care, mamma, I don't want it." "But you must take it." "Put it down then." "Well, don't go to sleep, and I'll send Betsy
up with it in a few minutes." Up Betsy would come, and quickly and voluptuously kissing, keeping her lips on mine for two or three minutes at a time, she would glide her hand down and feel my cock, whilst my fingers were on her motte, her thighs closed, then she would glide out of the room. I never got my hand between her thighs, I am sure.
I used to long to talk to her about all I had heard, but don't think I
ever did more than I have told, for I had a fear about using baudy words to a woman, though I already used them freely enough among boys.
I used to talk only of her hole, my thing, of doing it, and so forth;
50
but what made her laugh was my calling it pudendum, a word I had got out of Aristotle and my latin dictionary. In spite of all this, and of the voluptuous sensations, which used to creep over me, I have no clear, defined, recollection of wishing to fuck her, nor did I ever say
anything smutty, if I could see her face.
I got better. Then she refused either to feel me, or let me feel her,
on account of my boldness. One day, just at dusk, she was closing the dining-room shutters, I went behind her, and after pulling her head back to kiss me, stooped and pulled up her clothes to her waist; it exposed
her entire backside. Oh how white and huge it seemed to me. She moved
quickly round not hollowing out, but saying quietly: "What are you doing? don't, now!" As she turned round, so did I, gloating over her bum, then laid both hands on it, slid them round her thighs, and rapidly kneeling down, put my lips on to the flesh, her petticoats fell over my
head. She dislodged me, saying she would never speak with me again. She never either felt me, or permitted me, any liberties afterwards, and
soon left. One or two years after that, she came to see my mother with her baby. She smiled at me. I don't recollect what became of her sister, but think she soon left us also.
My physique could not then have been strong, nor my sexual organs in
finished condition, because I am sure that up to that time, I had
not had a spend; perhaps my growing fast and the fever, may have had something to do with it. My father came home broken hearted I have heard, and ill. Soon after we only kept two female servants, a man outside the house, and a gardener. Father was ordered to the seaside, my mother went with him, taking the children and one servant (all went by coach then). One of father's sisters, my aunt, a widow, came to take
51
charge of our new house, and brought her daughter, a fair, slim girl, about 16 years old.
I remained at home, so as to go to school; the servant left in the house
was a pleasant, plump young woman, dark haired, and was always laughing; she was to do all the work. My godfather who lived a mile or two away from us, and whose maiden sister kept house for him, was to see me frequently, and did so till I was sick of him. Every half-holiday,
he made me spend with him in walking, and riding; he insisted on my boating, cricketting and keeping at athletic games, when not at my
studies. The old doctor I expect guessed my temperament, and thought by thoroughly occupying, and fatiguing me, to prevent erotic thoughts. He wanted me to stay at his house, but I refused, and it being a longer way from my school, it was not persisted in.