My Secret Life

Undressing. • Silk stockings and garters. • The attack. • Foiled on the outside. • A battery. • A breech. • A tough virginity. • Triumphant. • Sanguinary proofs. • The second entry. • My foreskin. • Twenty-four hours fucking. • Gamahuching. • Six days pleasure. • Camille returns.

“The bonnet will be home”, said I, “let us go.” “Allons, allons”, so off we went. It was dusk when we got in the cab. “I am to put on the stockings if I give you a pair, and to feel”, I said. “No man has, c'est trop fort, you ask too much; you may put on garters below the knee.” “Why not above?” “Oh! quite different”, said she, “in the fields no girl minds putting her garter on before all the world below knee; but above, sh! that is disgrace.” Such is fashion, I have seen an Italian market-woman stoop forward and piss whilst talking to a man (a neighbouring stall-keeper) : she saw no harm. An English woman would burst first; yet if the Italian had put his hand rudely up her legs, that man might have been stabbed by the woman. Louise saw no indecency up to the knees, but above was a disgrace. “Put your boots up”, I said, up they went. “I may put garter to there?” said I feeling.outside. “Yes.” I shoved my hand up her petticoats on to her thighs, they closed, and down went the legs: a squeal, a struggle, but on her thighs I kept it until I got to the house.

We let ourselves in, the bonnet had not come, Louise opened the window to look out for it, although it was dark. A ring came, it was the bonnet; down she rushed for it. “Bring lights, bring lights”, said she taking one in her hand herself, the bonnet in the other; and rushing into Camille's room where there were large glasses; she put on the bonnet, clapped her hands for joy, and kissed me saying, I was so good. She put on her gloves, and collar, turning round to me each time, and asking how she looked. “Let me sleep with you, and I will buy you a dress to-morrow morning”, said I. “Impossible, impossible, was I not going now”, said she thoughtfully on a sudden. “No”, I meant to sleep there; and as I had fetched a valise, I pulled out my things, took off my boots, put on a dressing-gown. “There”, said I, “I shall sleep here till Camille comes home.” “There will be a row then, and what will I do? Madame Boileau (the old woman upstairs) must know, and will tell Madame”, and she looked hard at me.

Then she was attracted by my dressing-gown which was showy, but soon began looking at herself again, and took off all her finery with a sigh. “I am so hot and thirsty”, said she. It was not wonderful, for she had fed twice heavily, and been champagning off and on for hours, her hands were burning, heat was throughout her frame. “Let's have some more champagne”, said I, and opened a bottle; I pulled my trowsers off, — it was so hot, — being then in dressing-gown, drawers, and slippers, I made up my mind to force her, if I could do it no other way. Then my eye caught sight of a white muslin wrapper which Camille wore, it was tied down the front with blue bows.

“Put on Madame's wrapper, if you are hot, you will look handsomer than she does.” She went into Camille's room, bolted herself in, and came out looking splendid, and had only on beneath the wrapper, her coarse chemise, which I could see (as indeed I knew before) just reached below her knees. My heart palpitated, I was in my dressing-gown, she with but the thinnest garments on.

The champagne was before us, we were on the sofa, my arm was round her waist; through the thin folds of her light dress I could feel her firm haunches and well-moulded body; I talked baudy, squeezed her to me, pressed her thighs with one hand, and put the other down her bosom. Every now and then there was a scuffle, a cry, and forgiveness; then resistance grew fainter, another glass of champagne, and her head dropped on my shoulder, subdued by amourousness, and when I asked her to let me sleep with her, she only said, “Oh ! I dare not. I must not.” I slipped my hand up to her thighs, she put her hand down stopping its progress. “If I could only get her into the bed-room, and on to the bed”, I thought and went to Camille's room, the candles were still burning. “Would you like silk stockings? here they are.” “Is it so?” said she bounding up. I held them up before her. “Let me put them on.” “The garters above knee, mind.” “Yes, yes”, said she impatiently, “Give them me”.