After having seen frigging, it set me reflecting, but it still seemed to
me impossible, that delicate, handsome ladies, should allow pricks to
be thrust up them, and nasty stuff ejected into them. I read Aristotle,
tried to understand it, and thought I did, with the help of much talk
with my schoolfellows; yet I only half believed it. Dogs fucking were
pointed out to me; then cocks treading hens, and at last a fuller belief
came.
I began then, I recollect, to think of their cunts when I kissed women,
and then of my aunt's; I could not keep my eyes off of her, for thinking
of her large backside and the gap between her thighs; it was the
same with my cousins. Then I began to have cock-stands and suppose a
pleasurable feeling about the machine, though I do not recollect that. I
then found out that servants were fair game, and soon there was not one
in the house whom I had not kissed. I had a soft voice and have heard,
an insinuating way, was timorous, feared repulse, and above all being
found out; yet I succeeded. Some of the servants must have liked it,
who called me a foolish boy at first; for they would stop with me on a
landing, or in a room, when we were alone, and let me kiss them for a
minute together. There was one, I recollect, who rubbed her lips into
mine, till I felt them on my teeth, but of what she was like, I have no
recollection, and I did not like her doing that to me.
My curiosity became stronger, I got bolder, told servants I meant to see
them wash themselves, and used to wait inside by bed-room, till I heard
one of them come up to dress. I knew the time each usually went to her
bedroom for that purpose, the person most in my way was the nurse: she
after a time left, and mother nursed her own children. "Let's see your
neck; do, there is a dear," I would say. "Nonsense, what next?" "Do,
dear, there is no harm; I only want to see as much as ladies show at
balls." I wheedled one to stand at the door in her petticoats and show
her neck across the bedroom lobby. The stays were high and queerly made
in those days, the chemises pulled over the top of them like flaps. One
or two let me kiss their necks, a girl one day said to my entreaties,
"Well, only for a minute," and easing up one breast, she showed me
the nipple, I threw my arms around her, buried my face in her neck and
kissed it. "I like the smell of your breast and flesh," said I. She was
a biggish woman, and I dare say I smelt breasts and armpits together;
but whatever the compound, it was delicious to me, it seemed to enervate
The same woman, when I kissed her on the sly afterwards, let me
put my nose down her neck to smell her. We were interrupted. "There is
someone coming," said she, moving away.
"What makes ladies smell so nice?" said I to my mother one day. My
mother put down her work and laughed to herself. "I don't know that they
smell nice."
"Yes, they do, and particularly when they have low dresses on."
"Ladies," said mother, "use patchouli and other perfumes." I supposed
so, but felt convinced from mother's manner, that I had asked a question
which embarrassed her.
I used to lean over the backs of the chairs of ladies, get my face as
near to their necks as I could, quietly inhale their odours, and talk
all the time. Not every woman smelt nice to me, and when they did, it
was not patchouli, for I got patchouli, which I liked, and perfumed
myself with it. This delicate sense of smell of a woman I have had
throughout life, it was ravishing to me afterwards, when I embraced the
naked body of a fresh, healthy young woman.
From about this time of my life, I recollect striking events much more
clearly, yet the circumstances which led up to them or succeeded them I
often cannot. One day, Miss Granger, our former governess, came to see
I kissed her. Mother said: "Wattie, you must not kiss ladies in that
way, you are too big." I sat Miss Granger on my lap in fun (my mother
then in the room), and romped with her. Mother left us in the room, and
then seating Miss Granger on my lap again, I pulled her closely to me.
"Kiss me, she's gone," I said. "Oh! what a boy," and she kissed me,
saying, "let me go now--your mamma is coming." It came into my mind that
I had had my hand up her clothes, and had felt hair between her legs.
My prick stiffening in thinking of a women. I clutched her hard, put
one hand on to her and did something I know not what. She said: "You are
rude, Wattie." Then I pinched her and said: "Oh! what a big bosom you
have." "Hish! hish!" said she. She was a tallish woman with brown hair;
I have heard my mother say she was about thirty years of age.
A memorable episode then occured. There were two sisters, with other
female servants, in our house. My father was abroad at that time; I was
growing so rapidly, that every month they could see a difference in my
height, but was very weak. My godfather used to look at me, and severely
ask if I was up to tricks with the boys. I guessed then what he meant,
but always said I did not know what he meant. "Yes, you do; yes, you
do," he would say, staring hard at me, "you take care, or you'll die in
a mad-house, if you do, and I shall know by your face, not a farthing
more will I give you." He had been a surgeon-major in the Army, and gave
me much pocket-money. I could not bear his looking at me so; he would
ask me why I turned down my eyes.
About this time, I had had a fever, had not been to school for a long
time, and used to lie on the sofa reading novels all day. Miss Granger
had come to stop with my mother. One day I put my hand up her clothes,
nearly to her knees; that offended her, and she left off kissing me.
One of my little sisters slept with her, in a room adjoining my mother's
room; I slept now on the servants floor, at the top of the house. Again
I recollect my cock standing when near Miss Granger, but recollect
nothing else.
I was then ordered by my mother to cease speaking to the servants,
excepting when I wanted anything, though I am sure my mother never
suspected my kissing one. I obeyed her hypocritically, and was even at
times reprimanded for speaking to them, in too imperious a tone. She
told me to speak to servants respectfully. For all that I was after
them, my curiosity was unsatiable, I know the time each went up to
dress, or for other purposes, and if at home, would get into the lobby,
or near the staircase, to see their legs, as they went upstairs. I would
listen at their door, trying to hear them piss, and began for the first
time to peep through keyholes at them.
****
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