My Secret Life, Volumes I. to III. - The Original Classic Edition. Anonymous Anonymous
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I now had arrived at the age of puberty, when male nature asserts itself in the most timid, and finds means of getting its legitimate pleasure with women. I did, and then my recollection of things became more
perfect, not only as to the consummations, but of what led to them; yet nothing seems to me so remarkable as the way I recollect matters which occurred when I was almost an infant.
CHAPTER V.
Our house.--Charlotte and brother Tom.--Kissing and groping.--Both in rut.--My first fuck.--A virginity taken.-- At a baudy house.--In a privy.--Tribulations.--Charlotte leaves.--My despair.
After father's death, our circumstances were further reduced, at the
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time I am going to speak of, we had come to a small house nearer London;
one sister went to boarding-school, an aunt (I had many) took another, I went to a neighboring great school or college, as it was termed, my
little brother Tom was at home; but reference henceforth to members of my family will be but slight, for they had but little to do with the incidents of this private life, and unless they were part actors in it,
none will be mentioned.
Our house had on the ground-floor a dining-room, a drawing-room, and a small room called the garden parlor, with steps leading into a large garden. On the first floor my mother's bedroom and two others; above were the servants' room, mine, and another much used as a lumber-room; the kitchens were in the basement, beside them a long covered way led
to a servants' privy, and close to it a flight of stairs leading up into
the garden; at the top of the stairs was a garden-door leading into
the forecourt, on to which opened the street-door of the house. This description of plan is needful to understand what follows.
I was about sixteen years old, tall, with slight whiskers and moustache, altogether manly and looking seventeen or eighteen, yet my mother thought me a mere child, and most innocent; she told our friends so.
I had developed without her having noticed it, love of women, and the intensest desire to understand the secrets of their nature had taken possession of me; the incessant talk of fucking with which the youths I knew beguiled their leisure, the stories they told of having seen their servants, or other girls half, or quite naked, the tricks by which they managed this, the dodges they were up to, inflamed me, sharpened
my instinctive acuteness in such matters, and set me seeking every
opportunity to know women naked, and sexually. Frigging was now hateful
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to me; I had never done so more than the times related, that is as far as I now can recollect, frightened as said, by my godfather telling
me, that it sent men mad, and made them hateful to women. So although boiling with sensuality, I was still all but a virgin, and actually so
in fucking.
A housemaid arrived just as I came home from college, the cook stood at the door, she was a lovely woman about twenty-five or six years old, fresh as a daisy, her name was Mary. The housemaid was in a cart, driven by her father, a small market gardener living a few miles from us. I saw
a fresh, comely girl about seventeen years old in the forecourt, turned round to look, she was getting down, the horse moved, she hesitated. "Get down," said her father angrily. Down she stepped, her clothes caught on the edge of the cart, or step, or somehow; and I saw rapidly appear white stockings, garters, thighs, and a patch of dark hair between them by her belly; it was instantaneous, and down the clothes came, hiding all. I stood fascinated, knowing I had seen her cunt hair. She, without any idea of having been exposed, helped down with her box, I went into the parlor ashamed of having as I thought, been seen looking.
I could thing of nothing else, and when she brought in tea, could not take my eyes off her, it was the same at supper (we lead a simple life, dining early and having supper). In the evening my mother remarked, "that girl will do," I recollect feeling glad at heart.
I went to bed, thinking of what I had seen, and stared whenever I saw her the next day, until by a sort of fascination, she used to stare at
me; in a day or two I fancied myself desperately in love with her, and
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indeed was. I recollect now her features, as if I had only seen her yesterday, and after the scores and scores of women I have fucked since, recollect every circumstance attending my having her, as distinctly, as
if it only occurred last week; yet very many years have passed away.
She was a little over seventeen years, had ruddy lips, beautiful teeth, darkish hair, hazel eyes, and a slightly turn-up nose, large shoulders
and breast, was plump, generally of fair height, and looked eighteen or nineteen, her name was Charlotte.
I soon spoke to her kindly, by degrees became free in manner, at length chucked her under her chin, pincher her arm, and used the familiarities which nature teaches a man to use towards a woman. It was her business to open the door, and help me off with my coat and boots if needful; one day as she did so, her bum projecting upset me so, that as she rose from stooping I caught and pinched her. All this was done with risk, for
my mother was then nearly always at home, and the house being small, a noise was easily heard.
I was soon kissing her constantly. In a few days got a kiss in return, that drove me wild, her cunt came constantly into my mind, all sorts of wants, notions, and vague possibilities came across me; girls do let fellows feel them I said to myself, I had already succeeded in that. What if I tell that I have seen it outside? Will she tell my mother?
Will she let me feel her? What madness! Yet girls do let men, girls like it so all my friends say. Wild with hopes and anticipations, coming in doors one day, I caught her tightly in my arms, pulled her belly close to mine, rubbed up against hers saying, "Charlotte, what would I
give, if you would..." it was all I dare say. Then I heard my mother's
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bedroom door open, and I stopped.
Hugging and kissing a woman never stopped there, I told her I loved her, which she said was nonsense. We now used regularly to kiss each other when we got the chance; little by little I grasped her closer to me, put
my hands round her waist, then cunningly round to her bum, then my prick used to stand and I was mad to say more to her, but had not the courage.
I knew not how to set to work, indeed scarce knew what my desires lead me to hope, and think at that time, putting my hand on to her cunt, and seeing it, was perhaps the utmost; fucking her seemed a hopelessly mad idea, if I had the expectation of doing so at all very clearly.
I told a friend one or two years older than myself how matters stood, carefully avoiding telling him who the girl was. His advice was short. Tell her you have seen her cunt, and make a snatch up her petticoats when no one is near; keep at it, and you will be sure to get a feel, and some day, pull out your prick, say straight you want to fuck her, girls like to see a prick,