Then came by a shortish, stout English woman, I offered her a shilling. — “Give it me then, I want to piss badly.” — She squatted and began ere I could stoop, at the edge of the kerb, and to my astonishment her piddle squirted out in a smallish stream nearly horizontally, and quite two yards from her. A police-man came near. — “Get up, the police.” — “Can't, I'm bursting,” and she finished whilst the guardian stalked by without noticing her. She, evidently aware of the direction of the current, had pulled her clothes up above her garters to avoid wetting them. The constable I believe thought from my standing by her side that I was her husband.
“I'm seven months gone with child,” said she rising from the kerb. “You can feel my cunt round the corner.” — I followed her there, but finding another couple engaged in feeling each other's privates, bade her good night, and left without further satisfying my curiosity about her cuntal region. There are more gas lights there now than formerly, which interfered with street amours, and destroys tranquillity in the sexual pleasures — cui bono? The cunts will be felt else-where, the venue is changed, that is all — that which is natural between the sexes will have its way, or if thwarted lead to the unnatural.
By that time concupiscence was asserting its power in me. The feel of six or eight cunts, the sight and feel of L**l*e's bum furrow and cuntal region — now thickly black haired from bum bone nearly to navel — had roused my tool, which from fatigue had enabled me to withstand sexual wishes since the night when fucked out I left H. A slight, fair-haired woman looked at one. — “How old are you?” — “Seventeen — come — my lodging, it's close by.” I went with her. She'd a delicious, pretty, little, light auburn-haired rift, pink tinted and with scarcely nymphae or clitoris, quite a girl's cunt and very enticing. She was small boned, rather thin, but most beautifully made, and to my astonishment said she was Irish tho I didn't believe it. “Do it me.” — said she so soon as she'd felt my cock. — “You want it?” — “Yes I've not had it tonight.” — “Here is your money, don't let me if you have any fear.” — “Thank you, put it down, I'm all right.” She was then laying on the bedside naked. — Next minute I plugged her to her womb. It was such a tight little cunt, and I had pleasure in feeling round my prick, tightly enclosed by the nearly hairless lips. — “Oh — go on — fuck,” quoth she impatiently, and in a minute our sexual juices mingled.
“Ah — isn't it nice?” said she, as leaning over her — my cock still sheathed in her — I kissed her pretty youthful face, which wasn't a bit Irish. — Stooping, kissing, keeping my prick up as long as I could, at length out it came. “Do me again.” — “I can't.” — “Let me make you.” — “No, its late, and I'm sure I can't.” But she was anxious for it. A pretty girl begging me to fuck her is irresistible. She washed. — “I'll lay by your side a minute or two.” — There I felt up he] tight cunt, she made me rise, up her I put my pego, and lay so for many minutes before I thrust, then fucked again and departed. She had lifted up her legs for a very small fee.
A longish sea voyage, no incidents worth noting, excepting that of a healthy and very plain-faced, tall woman, seemingly about twenty-five, traveling wit] her mother and father to the East, was seasick close t me. I led her to her cabin and comforted her on the way. “How very kind,” said she next day, and then to my astonishment I found she was a widow. The sea air and extreme rest soon made my prick voluptuous, and I thought of the widow whose cabin was only a few yards from mine — I like talking to widows, they know all about fucking, they want it, and will take any sly allusions to it, whilst I am wondering how they assuage their passions, and how their cunts must tingle with want of the male. They tingle much more than virgins' cunts who don't know the stretch of the prick. There were her “Pa and Ma,” and I also had friends with whom I was travelling in my way. But walking on deck after dinner one fine evening with her “Pa and Ma” about — we leant over the bulwarks talking about sea sickness. Was I sick? she asked. — “Sometimes qualmish but soon over, and it has a very peculiar effect on me.” — “What?” — I hesitated, then — “It makes me want to be in bed with a companion.” “Ohooo,” said she giggling and went off to her Ma — I didn't fear, knowing that a widow wouldn't tell of that. — Half an hour later sitting at cards, I noticed that every minute she looked across at me. I fancy her cunt was stewing.
