The next morning, I went down early to the kitchen, did not see the
wench, and thinking she might be in the privy in the kitchen yard,
waited. The shutters were not down, after some minutes delay, in she
came; she started. "Hulloh! what are you up for?" I don't think I spoke,
but making a dash, got my hand up her clothes and on to her cunt. She
pushed me away, then caught hold of the hand with which I had touched
her cunt, and squeezed it hard with a rubbing motion, looking at me as I
recollected (but long afterwards), in a funny way. "Hish! hish! here is
the old woman," said she. "It is not." "I'm sure I heard the wires of
her bell," and sure enough there came a ring. Up I went without shoes,
like a shot to my bedroom, began to smell my fingers, found they were
sticky, and the smell not the same. I recollect thinking it strange that
her cunt should be so sticky, I had heard of dirty cunts,--it was a joke
among us boys, and thought hers must have been so, which was the cause,
that the smell and feel were different.
Two or three days afterwards my mother came to town by herself, there
was a row with the servant, I was told to leave the room; the servant
and gardener were both turned off that day and hour, a char-woman was
had in, a temporary gardener got, and my mother went back to my sick
father. Years passed away, and when I had greater experience and thought
of all this, concluded that my aunt had found the gardener and the
servant amusing themselves too freely, had had them dismissed, and that
the morning I found my fingers sticky, the girl had just come in from
fucking in the gardener's shed.
With all the opportunities I had, both with big Betsy and with this
woman, I was still virgin.
When I saw Fred next, he told me he had felt the cunt of one of their
servants. I told him partly what I had done, but kept to myself how I
had failed to poke when I had the opportunity, fearing his jeers; and
as I was obliged to name some woman, mentioned one of my godfather's
servants. He went there to try his chances of groping her as well, but
got his head slapped. We talked much about the smell of cunt, and he
told me that one day after he had felt their servant, he went into the
room where his sisters were, and said, "oh what a funny smell there is
on my fingers, what can it be, smell them." Two of his sisters smelt,
said they could not tell what it was, but it was not nice. Fred used to
say, that he thought they knew it was like the smell of a cunt, because
they colored up so.
I had noticed a strong smell on my prick, whenever the curdy exudation
had to be washed out. Fred's talk made me imitative, so I saturated my
fingers with the masculine essence one evening, and going to my female
cousin, "oh what a queer smell there is on my fingers," said I, "smell
them." The girl did. "It's nasty, you've got it from your chemicals,"
said she. "I don't think I have, smell them again, I can't think what it
can be, what's it like?" "I don't think it's like anything I ever smelt,
but it is not so nasty, if you smell it close, it's like southern wood,"
she replied. I wonder if that young lady when she married, ever smelt
it afterwards, and recognized it. I did this more than once, it gave
me great delight to think my slim cousin had smelt my prick, through
smelling my fingers; what innate lubricity comes out early in the male.
Misfortunes of all sort came upon us, the family came back to town,
another brother died, then my father who had been long ill, died, and
was found to be nearly bankrupt; then my godfather died, and left me
a fortune, all was trouble and change, but I only mention these family
matters briefly.
My physique still could not have been strong, for though more than ever
intensely romantic, and passionately fond of female society, I don't
recollect being much troubled with cock-standings, and think I should,
had I been so. My two intimate school-friends left off frigging,
the elder brother, who had a very long red nose, having come to the
conclusion with me, that frigging made people mad, and worse, prevented
them afterwards from fucking and having a family. Fred, my favorite
cousin, arrived at the same conclusion--by what mental process, we all
arrived at it, I don't know.
When I was approaching my sixteenth year, I awakened one night with a
voluptuous dream, and found my night-shirt saturated with semen, it was
my first wet-dream; that set me frigging again for a time, but I either
restrained myself, or did not naturally require much spending at that
time, for I certainly did not often do so.
But our talk was always about cunt and woman, I was always trying to
smell their flesh, look up their petticoats, watch to see them going
to piddle; and the wonder to me now is, that I did not frig myself
incessantly; and can only account for it on the grounds, that though my
imagination was very ripe, my body was not. The fact of hair under
the arms of women had a secret charm for me about that time. I don't
recollect thinking much about it before, though it had astonished me
when I first saw it; and why it came to my imagination so much now, do
not know, but it did. I have told of the woman under whose arms I first
saw hair.
One afternoon after my father's death, and that of my godfather, Fred
was with me, we went to the house of a friend, and were to return home
about nine o'clock. It was dark, we saw a woman standing by a wall. "She
is a whore," said Fred, "and will let us feel her if we pay her." "You
go and ask her." "No, you." "I don't like to." "How much money have you
got?" We ascertained what we had, and after a little hesitation, walked
on, passed her, then turned round and stopped. "What are you staring at,
kiddy," said the woman. I was timid, and walked away, Fred stopped with
her. "Wattie, come here," said he in a half whisper. I walked back. "How
much have you got?" the woman said. We both gave her money. "You'll let
us both feel?" said Fred. "Why of course, have you felt a woman before?"
Both of us said we had, feeling bolder. "Was it a woman about here?"
"No." "Did you both feel the same woman?" "No." "Give me another shilling
then, you shall both feel my cunt well, I've such a lot of hair on it."
We gave what he had, and then she walked off without letting us. "I'll
tell your mothers, if you come after me," she cried out.
We were sold; I was once sold again in a similar manner afterwards, when
by myself.
These are the principal baudy incidents of my early youth, which I
recollect, and have not told to friends; many other amusing incidents
told them, are omitted here, for the authorship would be disclosed, if
I did. One or two were peculiar and most amusing, yet I dare not narrate
them; but all show how soon sexual desires developed in me, and what
pleasure early in life even these gave me and others.
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.
****
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