My Secret Life (65 page)

This relieved me, together with the influence of whiskey and water. I got more courage and he seemed more comfortable, but not a word had transpired about our business, and an hour had gone. Then my mind reverted to my object, and I said, “You know what you came for.” “Yes sir.” He changed white, then red, and began to bite his nails.

My voice quivered as I said, “Unbutton your trowsers then.” He hesitated. “Let me see your cock.” One of his hands went down slowly, he unbuttoned his trowsers, which gaping, shewed a white shirt. Then never looking at me, he began biting his nails again.

The clean shirt, coupled with his timidity, gave me courage. “Take off your coat and waistcoat.” He slowly did so. — I did the same, gulped down a glass of whiskey and water, sat him down by me, and lifting his shirt laid hold of his prick. A thrill of pleasure passed thro me, I slipped my hands under his balls, back again to his prick, pulled the foreskin backwards and forwards, my breath shortening with excitement. He sat still. Suddenly I withdrew my hand with a sense of fear and shame again on me.

“May I make water, sir, I want so badly,” said he in a humble way, just like a schoolboy. “Certainly, take off your trowsers first.” He looked hard at me, slowly took them and his drawers off, and stood with his shirt on. I took up the pot and put it on the chair (my baudy brain began now to work). “Do it here, and I’ll look at your cock.”

He came slowly there and stood. “I can’t water now — I think it is your standing by me.” “You will directly, don’t mind me.” The whiskey and excitement having made me leaky, I pulled out my tool and pissed in the pot before him.

He laughed uneasily, it was the first sign of amusement he had given. Directly I had finished, I laid hold of his prick and began playing with it, I pulled back the skin and blew on the tip, a sudden whim that made him laugh, and his shyness going off, I holding his prick, he pissed the pot half full — I was delighted and wished he could have kept on pissing for a quarter of an hour.

The ice was now broken, I took off my trowsers, and then both with but shirts and socks on, I sat him at the side of the bed and began my investigation of his copulating apparatus.

“I want to frig you,” said I. “Yes sir.” “Has any man ever frigged you.” — No living man had touched his prick since he was a boy, he declared. — Then I began to handle his cock with the ordinary first fucking motion.

I had scarcely frigged a minute before I wanted to feel his balls. Then I turned him with his rump to me, to see how his balls and prick looked hanging down from the back. — Then on to his side, to see how the prick dangled along his thigh. Then I took him to the wash stand and washed his prick, which before that was as clean as a new shilling, but the idea of washing it pleased me. Then laying him down on his back, I recommenced the fascinating amusement of pulling the foreskin backwards and forwards, looking in his face to see how he liked it. — He was as quiet as a lamb, but looked sheepish and uncomfortable.

His prick at first was small, but under my manipulation grew larger, tho never stiff. Several times it got rather so for an instant, and then with the desire to see the spunk come, I began frigging harder; when instead of getting stiffer it got smaller. I tried this with him laying down, sitting up, and standing, but always with the same result — I spoke about it. — He said he could not make it out.

His prick was slightly longer than mine, was beautifully white, and with a pointed tip. I made it the stiffest by gently squeezing it — I had had no desire in my own doodle, but as I made his stiff once when he was lying down, my own prick came to a stand, and following a sudden inspiration I laid myself on to his belly, as if he had been a woman, and our two pricks were between our stomachs close together. I poked mine under his balls, and forced his under my stones, then changing, I turned his bum towards me, and thrusting my cock between his thighs and under his balls to the front, bent his prick down to touch the tip of mine, which was just showing thro his thighs. But his prick got limper and limper, and as I remarked that, it shrivelled up. We had been an hour at this game, and there seemed no chance of his spending. No sign of permanent stiffness or randiness or pleasure. He seemed in fact miserably uncomfortable.

Then he wanted to piss again from nervousness — I held his prick, squeezing it, sometimes stopping the stream, then letting it go on, and satisfying my curiosity. That done, I made a final effort to get a spend out of him, by squeezing, frigging slow, frigging fast. Then I rubbed my hand with soap, and making with spittle an imitation of cunt mucous on it, titillated the tip. “I think I can do it now,” said he — but all was useless. “It’s no good, I’m very sorry, sir, but I can’t, that is a fact. — I don’t know how it is.”

The last hour had been one of much novelty and delight to me, tho he couldn’t spend; but the announcement disappointed me. It came back to my mind that he might be, after all that Sarah had said, but an overfrigged bugger, who could no longer come. For I had heard that men who let themselves out for that work at last got so used up that it was difficult for them to do anything with their own pricks, and that all they could do was to permit men to feel their cocks, whilst they plugged their arse-holes. So I repeated my questions, and he again swore by all that was holy that no man had ever felt him but me; and he added that he was sorry he had come, but the money was a temptation.

I laid him then again on the bed and felt his prick. We finished the whiskey, and I sent for more; and in a whisper told Sarah that there was no spunk in him. She brought in the whiskey herself, and laughed at seeing us two nearly naked on the bed together.

Then I asked him when he had a woman last, if he liked them, how he got them, and so forth. He told me that he liked women very much — sometimes he got them for nothing, and they were servant girls mostly. When at houses if servants were left in them, or even if the family were only for a short time out — young fellows like him often got a put in; or else made love to them, and got them to come out at nights. He warmed up as he told me this, and his prick began to rise, but on my recommencing to masturbate him, it fell down again. He declared that the woman he last had was ten days previously, when he gave her a shilling out of the trifle he had gained, and that he had never spent since. Then he began biting his nails, adding that he hoped I should give him the money, for he could not help not spending, and was desperately badly off — “I have had some bread and cheese, and beer, but I have not tasted meat for six days.”

Three hours with him had passed, the frigging seemed useless, but talking about women had brought my steam well up, so I began to think of letting him go, and plugging Sarah to finish. “Sarah is a fine woman isn’t she? Did you ever have her, or see her naked,” I said suddenly, thinking to catch him. — She was fine, but he had never seen her in his life, until the day but one previously. — “Would you like to see her naked.” Oh! would he not. I knew Sarah would do anything almost, so called her in, told her his cock would not stand, and that we wanted to see her naked, “All right,” said she, and began to undress.

He kept his eyes ardently fixed on her as she took off her things — I remarked to him on her charms as she disclosed them. He said “Yes
—
yes”
—
in an excited way. Then he ceased answering, but stared at her intently. When her limbs and breasts shewed from her chemise, a voluptuous sigh escaped him, and he put his hand to his prick outside his shirt. Feeling him, I found his prick swelling. “Don’t pull off yet Sarah.” She ceased taking off her chemise. “Pull off your shirt.” Helping him he stood naked with his prick rising. — “Now show us your cunt.” Down Sarah lay (after stripping off her chemise) on her back, one arm raised and shewing her dark haired arm pit, her legs apart, and one raised with the heel just under her bum, the black hair of her cunt curling down till shut in by her arse cheeks, the red lined cunt lips slightly gaping. — It was a sight which would have made a dead man’s prick stiffen, and mine was stiff at the sight altho I had seen it scores of times. I forgot him then, till turning my head I saw his splendid cockstand. — His eyes were fixed full of desire on her, and he was a model of manly, randy beauty. — “Is not she fine?” said I. “Oh! lovely, beautiful, let me do it,” addressing her. “No,” said I, “another time perhaps,” and I seized his tool with lewed joy.

For an instant he resisted. Sarah said, “Let my friend do it, you came for that.” I frigged away, he felt its effects and sighed — I frigged on and felt the big, firm, wrinkled ball bag. A voluptuous shiver ran thro him soon. “Oh! let me feel her — do.” “Feel her then.” Over he stooped. “Kneel on the bed.” Quickly he got there and plunged his finger into her carmine split. Again I grasped his tool and frigged. He cried out, “Oh! I’m coming. — I’m spend — ing” — and a shower of sperm shot out, covering her belly from cunt to navel. I frigged on until every drop had fallen. Then letting go his prick, he sat down on his heels, his eyes shut, his body still palpitating with pleasure and now fingering his still swollen doodle.

The effect on me was violent. Sarah’s attitude on her back at all times gave me a cockstand — it had stood whilst frigging him. — There she lay now, a large drop of his spunk on her motte seemed ready to drop down on to her clitoris, higher up on her belly little pools lay. Tearing off my shirt, scarcely knowing what I did, crying out, “Move up higher on the bed” — which he did, I flung myself on her and put my prick up her cunt. — My prick rubbed the spunk drop on her thatch, my belly squeezed the opal pools between us, the idea delighted me — I fucked away, stretched out my hand, grasped his wet prick, for he was now conveniently near me, and fucked quickly to an ecstatic termination.

The greater the preliminary excitement; the more delicious seems the repose after a fuck — the more it is needed, and I had had excitement enough that night. At length I roused myself. My cock did not seem inclined to come out of its lodging. I felt that I could butter her again without uncunting. So keeping it in, I raised myself and looked at him sitting at the head of the bed, naked and still feeling his prick, which was again as stiff as a ramrod.

“He can spend after all,” said I, my prick still up Sarah. — “I told you he was a nice young man.” “Should you like to fuck her?” “Just give me the chance.” The tale of the soldiers putting into each other’s leavings came into my head. “Do it at once.” “Lord,” said Sarah, “you don’t mean that.” But I did. “Do it now.” — I rose on my knees. — As I took my belly off of Sarah’s, they were sticking together with his spunk. It made a loud smacking noise as our bellies separated. — My prick drew out sperm which dropped between her thighs. — As I got off, he got on, and as quickly put up her. The next minute their backsides were in rapid motion.

The second fuck is longer than the first, and I had time to watch their movements. — A man and woman both naked and close to me, were copulating — I could see and feel every movement of their bodies — hear their murmurs and sighs — see their faces. — There stood I with my own prick now stiff again watching them. — My hands roved all over them — I slipped my hand between their bellies — I felt his balls. — Then slipping it under her rump it felt the wet spunk I had left in her cunt, now working out on to the stem of his prick as it went in and out — I got on the bed and rubbed my prick against his buttocks. I shouted out — “Fuck her, — spend in her — spend in my spunk,” — and other obscenities I know not what. — I encouraged his pleasure by baudy suggestions. A sigh, a murmuring, told me he was coming. My fingers were on his balls, and I let them go to see his face. He thrust his tongue into Sarah’s mouth. — “You are spending, Sarah.” — No reply. — Her mouth was open to his tongue, her eyes were closed, her buttocks moving with energy, and the next second but for a few twitchings of his arse, and their heavy breathings, they were like lumps of lifeless flesh. Both had spent. The fancy to do her
after him
came over me — my spunk — his spunk — her spunk — all in her cunt together. I will spend in her again. — The idea of my prick being drowned in these mixed exudations overwhelmed me libidinously. — “I’ll do it to you again. — Get off of her.” — “Let me wash,” said Sarah. — “No.’ — “I will.” — “You shan’t.” — He was getting off, she attempting to rise, when I pushed her down. — “It’s wiser” — I didn’t know what she said scarcely. — “No — no — no — I want to put into his spunk.” — Her thighs were apart, her cunt hole was blinded, hidden by spunk which lay all over it and filled its orifice. I threw myself on her, my prick slipped up with a squashing noise — I know no other way of describing it. I think I hear it now.

I felt a sense of heavenly satisfaction. Her cunt was so filled that it seemed quite loose, the sperm squeezed out of her and up, until the hair of both our genitals were saturated
—
I pushed my hand down, and making her lift up one leg, found the sperm lay thick down to her arse hole
—
I called out, “Your spunk’s all over my ballocks,” and told all the baudy images which came across my mind. I told him to lay down by the side of us, and made Sarah feel his prick at the same time I did — I felt my pleasure would even now be too short and stopped myself. Sarah with a sigh cried, “Oh — my God — go on,” her cunt tightened, she let go his prick and clasped my buttocks to her — I still held his prick, and tried to lengthen my pleasure but could not, her cunt so clipped me. Abandoning myself to her the next instant almost with a scream of pleasure, I was quiet in her arms and fell asleep — and so did she, and so did he — all three on the bed close together.

Awakening, I had rolled off close to Sarah on to my side, my prick laying against her thigh. — She lay on her back asleep, he nearly on his back. All three were nearly naked, myself excepted who had on an under shirt next my skin. — She had silk stockings and black merino boots on. My foreskin had risen up and covered the tip of my prick. In the saucer at the top was spunk which had issued from me after I uncunted. — The lamp was alight. Two candles (they had been short pieces) had burnt out, and the fire had all but expired. The room had been hot all the evening, for there were three of us in it, three lights burning, and the fire. Now it had got cold, and a sensation of chillness was over me.