I took another day with me a condom tied on to a little bone tube, which I took out from an india rubber bottle or injector, and with that could inflate the con-dom. — Wetting the condom she pushed it — a gutty little string — up her cunt as far as she could with her fingers, leaving the mouthpiece hanging out, and laid herself at the edge of the bed. Then taking it in my mouth, I tried to inflate the condom by blowing into it, but with all the force of my lungs failed to do so effectually. It might have been done perhaps with a pair of bellows, but with my mouth I could do nothing more than inflate it a little. Directly I ceased blowing, the squeeze of her cunt drove all the wind out again. She could feel the dilation, which gave her cunt what she called “a tickling squeeze out” but nothing more. We both thought it good fun, which shows what infinite variety of amusements reside in cock and cunt. A trial on another day, when the condom was pushed up her dry, was equally unsuccessful.
Then I blew up her cunt thro an india rubber tube — my breath blew against her womb, which we thought at the time good fun. — Indeed any absurdity (as it may be seen afterwards) will amuse a meretricious couple fond of playing with each other's genitals. Then as she had a pretty bum hole, I introduced the india rubber tube up that and blew up it — “I'll put a fresh fart into you,” said I — “Beast,” — but she liked the fun. Inventions multiplied. I blew a condom out, tied the end to keep up the inflation, then pushed it up her cunt. It was larger in circumference than any prick I have seen — so far as I can judge, — but up it went, and I moved it very gently whilst she frigged herself. There were pleasant chats about this, and we agreed that a cunt full grown would take a much larger than ever man yet had.
Then I fell out of health and was ordered to a warmer climate for the winter. — Before departing, H. and I had a frolicksome evening, in which we invented postures and modes of pleasure, in which we both got tight, and her lasciviousness had full play. With great regret we parted, as much exhausted with lecherous amusements as a couple could be. Her wonderful strength showed itself that night, for under my prick, finger, and tongue, she spent eleven times, and at that last gamahuche, during which I added to her pleasure by inserting my middle finger just through her sphincter, she gave such a long, loud screech as she spent, that it must have been heard throughout the house, and she nearly tore the hair off my head. — “Aha — my God — suck — bugger — quicker — haa — spunk,” she screeched in ejaculations, pausing between each word. — I wrote an account of all next day, this is but an abbreviation.
A week afterwards returning home late, reminiscences of the fun I'd had in cunt hunting in that neighbourhood filled my mind. I walked along the harlot's promenade, met N**l*e L*l*e and went home with her, having a desire to see again that large-mouthed dark-haired vulva, which had spite of its size given me much pleasure. She looked older, seemed poorer, but had good apartments with newish furniture, given to her by her septuagenarian friend, up whose anus she worked a dildo whilst she gamahuched him — as I think has already been narrated. — After amusing myself with her cunt, I paid her a full fee and departed without tailing her, much to her astonishment and regret seemingly.
Then in an erotic state of mind and body, I went to the quiet streets where I have felt scores of cunts — thus does lust lead men on — and thought I'd feel others. It was now just past midnight, the public houses were closed, and Cyprians who had been taking their fill of liquor wanted relief. A French woman said, “Come home with me, cheri.” — “No, I'll give you a shilling to piddle over my fingers whilst I feel your cunt.” — “Mais, oui,” and without a word the act and deed were done, and payment made in three minutes.
Whilst the warm saline outpour was going on, two other whores came by and were amused. “Voyons, je puis pisser, moi.” — “A shilling?” “Oui.” — And so she pissed, and her companion also. Then a shoal of harlots, French and English — one telling another — came and pissed. “Prenez garde — le police,” and quickly they scattered like chaff before the wind. I stood upright by the kerb stone. On stalked the guardian of public morals, not noticing me who had never moved.
