My Secret Life

One dark Saturday night in spring at about ten o'clock, when passing along a main metropolitan throughfare, — three women turned down a short street, ill lighted and with blank walls on each side. At about fifty feet from the main road this street turned at right angles, and for a long distance then went at the backs of houses in the main thoroughfare. On the other side where there was no footway were big warehouses without occupants at night, and against them were empty carts left there till the morrow. There was little or no traffic in the street, for there was [and is] no gain in going that way. This part of the street also was still more dimly lighted than the short branch, strumpets often pissed and fucked there freely. Many a cunt I'd felt there in times gone by. Others at times — not strumpets — wanting a pee wee badly, found in it an out of the way quiet spot to do that splashing business. I saw that the three were not gay women. As I passed, one with a chuckle said, “Just round the corner,” and they went there quickly looking round anxiously to see if they were noticed. — They were respectably dressed like the wives of artizans, and I believed they were so from their manner, and that they'd been having a Saturday night's drop, as artizans' wives at Saturday marketings do; a drop enough to make them frisky, randy, and rollicksome, yet not tight. My balls were full that night — sudden letches depend much on the fullness of that reservoir — and my enduring letch seized me. I followed them, feeling mechanically in my pocket to ascertain if I'd enough to pay for my amusement, if it could be had, and forgetting I'd a pocket full, for I had changed gold purposely that day to get silver. They stopped at a hundred feet or so from the angle, as I approached noticed me, and went further. So did I and close up to them, as in a group they stopped and hesitated. “What do you want, young man?” I wasn't young — said a tall woman whom I guessed to be forty. “To see you all piddle.” — “Ho, ho,” they all burst out together as if astonished, yet amused not shocked. “Well I'm sure — then you won't.” — “I'm going to piddle too.” — “Ho, ho, — he, he,” they burst out again, and then were quiet and went without a word a few feet further. They in fact moved and quietly to a much darker spot. I wonder they didn't cross to the dark wall and empty carts.

One woman then burst out loudly laughing, then the others did — quite a chorus. “We're respectable women, go away now,” said the tall one. — I felt sure they were so tho poor, and hesitated. But I'd felt the cunts of their class before, knew that money tempts, that women like erotic tricks, so persisted. — Many work-men's wives have been free and easy with their cunts before marriage, which weakens their morals; but it's a mistake to suppose “once a whore always a whore.” There are 'many whores married among the lower classes — and indeed in every rank of life — who are chaste enough then, they forget and eschew past habits, and are content with the prick of the bread winner, yet at times some yearn for a fresh bit of cock, and a baudy trick or two. I've always had the faculty of making women lewed, and felt sure from their hesitation that lust was coming on the three.