The women were to lie down in an order known to us, Lady A
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nearest to the door, and so on. There was to be absolute silence. Each man as he knelt between the woman’s legs was to put a card with a number on it under her pillow. We men knew which number each had, the women were not to know which man was to have her, directly we had fucked we were to return, each woman was to produce her card, and guess who had been up her, they were to be in their chemises, we in our shirts. I never shall forget the looks of the women as they went upstairs to arrange themselves for the fucking, but think that they scarcely knew the rules of what they were to do.
The women undressed quickly enough, for we had scarcely had time to tie up our faces in napkins to prevent our whiskers being noticed (Lord A
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had none), before a voice shouted out, “We are ready.” Then with shirts on only, up we men went. I only recollect kneeling down between Lady A
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’s legs (we had agreed among ourselves how to change our women), giving a card, feeling a cunt, and putting my prick into it, then hearing the rustling of limbs, hard breathing, sighing, and moans of pleasure of the couples fucking fast and furiously; of my brain whirling, of a maddening sensuality delighting me as I clasped the buttocks of Lady A
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, and fucked her.
We must have spent nearly all together, none when we compared after recollected more than his own performance. All were quiet. I was feeling round my prick which was still in Lady A
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’s cunt, when a light flashed powerfully through the room. That devil Fred had risen, and lighted several lucifers, which then was done by dipping them in a bottle, — they were expensive. What a sight was disclosed at a glance!
All three women lay with chemises up to their navels, Lady A
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on her back, I on the top of her (rising rapidly at the light). Next to her Mabel seemingly asleep with thighs wide open. Fred kneeling between them, holding the lighted matches, Laura on her back with open thighs, eyes closed, Lord A
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cuddling, but nearly off of her by her side, and his prick laying on her thigh. The women shrieked, and began pulling down their chemises. I swore at Fred, the women joined chorus. “Most ungentlemanly,” said Laura, getting up. That got up Lord A
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. Mabel lay still on her back as if ready to be stroked again. But all was said. In a minute the lucifers burnt out, and it was dark again. Scuffing up, we men went downstairs, leaving the women chattering. Soon after, down they came, looking screwed, lewed, and annoyed that the bets were off, and all chattering at once.
Mabel was quarrelsome. “You,” said she, turning to Lady A
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, “said that your husband’s thing was long and thin, you tried to mislead me in the bet, you wanted to make me lose.” They had evidently been discussing their men’s pricks.
“So you have been telling how each of us fucks,” said Fred. Laura denied it. “We did,” said Mabel. “It’s a lie, Mabel, if you say it again, I’ll tell something more than you will like to hear about yourself.” Mabel retorted, Lady A
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chimed in. It was a Babel of quarrelsome lewed women, with their cunts full.
I feared a row, and that Mabel might after all know more about my having had Laura, the night we all three slept in the same bed, than I cared for; so I pacified them. Fred said we had better try again, Laura objected. “Oh! Yes, Mrs. Modest,” said Mabel. “When you found it was not Fred, why didn’t you cry out?” “I didn’t know,” said Laura. “Ah! Ah! the printer’s wife,” we shouted, then more baudy talk, recriminations, and squabbling. Laura said she should go home, Fred said she might go by herself. Lord A
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, who had half fallen asleep, said it was too late, and we had better stop. Some one said we could soon again make the beds comfortable in the upper rooms. “That be damned,” said Fred, “we will all sleep on the floor as they are now.” “Free fucking forever,” said I. Laura said I was a blackguard, Mabel said she should like it, Lady A
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said she didn’t care, if Adolphus didn’t, Adolphus said any cunt would suit him. He was reeling drunk as he spoke.
All this time we were in shirts and chemises. One woman had thrown a shawl over her, one a petticoat, but their breasts flashed out, their arms were naked, their legs showing to their knees, the men were naked to their knees in their shirts. The scene was exciting, the women hadn’t washed their cunts, Fred said so. Mabel asked him if he was sure of it. No, he would feel. Laura told him he must be drunk, and was a beast. “Drunk?” said he, “look here.” He turned a somersault, and stood on his hands and head, his heels against the wall, his back-side in the air, his prick and cods falling downwards over his belly, his shirt over his head. Lady A
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took up a bunch of grapes, and dashed it on his ballocks. Then we chased the women round the room, tried to feel them, and they us. It was like hell broke loose, till we agreed to sleep on the floor together anyhow.
No lights; lights and piss-pots were put in the back bedroom, — a woman suggested that. “You’re frightened of farting,” said someone. The women went up to make the beds more comfortable, took blankets, etc., from the upper rooms, whilst we men fetched candles from the kitchen, the others being well nigh burnt out. The women had washed their cunts, we had more wine, and then we all were pretty well screwed, and Lord A
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pretty drunk when we went up to them.
Up to that time I was sufficiently sober to know all I have written, and plenty more. Surely I could tell a lot more of our conversation, but it would prolong the tale too much. After the last bottle of champagne I was groggy, recollect less clearly, was in a half-sleepy, feverish, excited, and bawdy state, my sleep was broken by others, but when awake my prick stood immediately, and I moved all night from one woman to another, fucking, and then dozing.
To satisfy Laura, and keep up a sort of appearance, we had said we would only have our own women, who were again to lay in a certain order. Directly they had left the room, we agreed to change. A
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doggedly insisted on having Mabel, so I was to take Laura, and Fred Lady A
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. It was such a lark. My prick was up Laura when she cried, “It’s not you, Fred.” Then were simultaneous exclamations, “I’m not Mabel,” — “What a lovely cunt!” — “Leave me alone,” — “Feel my big prick,” — “Damn, a cunt’s a cunt,” hiccupped Lord A***. “Oh! — ah!” — “Ha! My love fuck, — My darling, oh!” — kiss, kiss, — spending, — “aha!” — sighs of delight, — “cunt,” — fuck, — “Oh!” — “Ah! Ah!” And I fell asleep on Laura amidst this.
Awake again. By my side a wet cunt, a heavy sleeper. Turning round, my legs met naked legs. I stretched out my hand, and felt a prick, perhaps Fred’s, I don’t know. Getting up, I felt my way, stumbling over legs to the wall to the furthest woman, and laid myself on her. “Don’t Adolphus, I’m so sleepy,” said she. The next instant we were fucking. Others awakened. “Where are you?” said someone. Then all moved, one man swore, a hand felt my balls from behind. I was spending, and rolled off the lady, turning my bum to her. Then I touched Mabel, and put my hand to her cunt. A man dropped on her, and touched my hand with his prick. Ejaculations burst out on all sides, the couples were meeting again, then all was quiet, and the fucking done. Then all talked. All modesty was gone, both men and women told their sensations and wants. “You fuck me, — Feel me, — No, I want so and so,” Laura as lewed as the rest.
Again awaking. A hand was feeling my prick. “Is it you, Laura?” “Yes.” I felt her cunt. “Oh! Let me go and piddle.” But I turned on to her, and we fucked, “How wet your cunt is.” “No wonder.”
Again I awakened, someone got up, and fell down. “Hulloa! Who is that?” “I want to piss, and can’t get up,” said Lord A
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in a drunken voice. Someone opened the door, a feeble light came across from the back-room, we helped him up and he stumbled along with us men to piss. Then he insisted on going downstairs. He could scarcely stand, so we helped him to the dining-room, we lighted more candles, he swilled more wine, tumbled on to the sofa, where we left him drunk and snoring, and found him snoring the next morning with the hearth-rug over him. We two went back to the women. “I’ve fucked all three,” said Fred. “So have I.” “Laura’s a damned fine fuck, ain’t she?” Someone shut the room-door opposite, as we reached the landing. We pushed it open. Two ladies were pissing; Marie and Laura. “Where is Mabel?” “Drunk,” replied one. The two were past caring for anything, pissed and went back with us to the bed-room. I took a light there. Mabel was on her back nearly naked, we covered her up, for it was cold. Then I fucked Laura, and Fred, Lady A
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. The light we left now on the wash hand-stand, so we looked at each other fucking and enjoyed it, and then we changed women. There was no cuntwashing, we fucked in each other’s sperm, no one cared, all liked it, all were screwed, baudy, reckless, Mabel snoring.
I awakened after a heavy sleep, chilly, feverish, headaching, and thirsty. I drew aside the curtains; it was late, light, but foggy; a nasty winter’s morning. Fred and the three ladies lay snoring, some covered, others partially so, the floor looking as if every article of bed-furniture had been thrown down with a pitch-fork. I drank water, and fucked out as I was, my lubricity was unsatiated. I could not resist gratifying it.
Moving stealthily, I uncovered the sleepers one by one. It was easy enough, as the clothes lay loose and in shapeless heaps. I saw Fred’s prick touching Mabel’s haunch, contemplated Laura’s thick-haired quim, saw spunk on her chemise. She looked lovely. Lady A*** on her back, her hand over her cunt, red stains about her, and on the sheet which I pulled off her, — her poorliness had come on. Mabel on her back looked ready for a man. My cock stiffened, I laid myself on Laura, and awakened her. That awakened Fred who mounted Mabel. Both couples took to the exercise in the foggy day-light, and a long time we were in consummating. “Oh! Do leave off,” said Laura, “I’m so sore.” My prick was excoriated, it had not been so for many a day.
Never have I been in such an orgie before, never since, and perhaps never shall be; but it was one of the most delicious nights I ever spent. So said Fred, so said Mabel; and Laura admitted to me at a future day that she thought the same, and that since, when she frigged herself, she always thought of it, and nothing else.
I thought of nothing else for a long time. Nothing has ever yet fixed itself in my mind so vividly, so enduringly, except my doings with my first woman, Charlotte. At the beginning of my writing these memoirs, this was among the first described. The narrative as then written was double its present length, and I am sorry that I have abbreviated it, for the occurrences as I correct this proof seem to come on too quickly. Whereas we dined at seven o‘clock, and it was one o’clock I guess before we all went to bed together, and the stages from simple voluptuousness to riotous baudiness and free-fucking were gradual. At eight o’clock not one of us would have dared to think of, still less to suggest, what we all did freely at midnight.
CHAPTER XIII
Morning headaches.
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An indignant housekeeper.
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A saucy valet.
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Consequences.
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Fred leaves England.
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Lady A***’s invitation.
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Laura a widow. — Farewell Laura.
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Adieu Mabel.
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My guardian’s remonstrances.
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Parental advice.
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Ruined.
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Reflexions.
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My relations.
With headaches, heated, irritable, thirsty, worn out, we arose; the men quiet, the women quarrelsome. The women began to dress, some where they had slept, some in the other room. We went down to Lord A***, and awakened him. He went upstairs, and bawled out to the housekeeper (he had rung the bell violently several times without her appearing). “Make us some tea directly,” said he. She answered, “I shan‘t, — make it yourself.” “I’ll dismiss you if you don’t.” “I ain’t going to make tea for prostitutes,” said she, “and we are not going to keep in such a house.” Fred said the wine was bad, or his head would not ache so. A*** said Fred knew nothing about wine. Mabel who had heard what the housekeeper said, bawled out that she would go up, and tear her eyes out. The free-fucking tone was gone, each man seemed jealous, and spoke harshly to his woman. At a remark of Marie’s, Lord A*** told her to go to another room. No, she should not till Mabel was out of the house. Mabel, not quite sober, told me I had better go home with Laura. Fred said Laura would go home with him. Laura was quiet, and tried to get Fred to leave with her, and told Mabel she would be better if she took less liquor. At length we separated. We four were going to the same house, but went in separate cabs, then to our own rooms, and had breakfast separately there, — a thing we never had done before. We always lived in Laura’s apartments, and shared the expenses.
After breakfast Mabel and I went to bed, late in the day we awakened. I was refreshed, for then a long sleep restored me from any excess. Although I did not like Mabel’s behaviour, and did not care about her having had the other men as I thought, yet it annoyed me; but it had the effect of giving me a strong letch for her for some time. I used to think as I fucked her, of my prick rubbing where Fred’s and Lord A
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’s had rubbed, it delighted me to say, “Should you know it was my prick if you had just awakened?” — “Did his hurt you, when he pushed like this?” — shove, shove, — “Tell me how Fred goes just before he spends.” We used to fetch each other by talking over that night; but she did not recollect very clearly, and declared she was sure I had not had her, although I certainly had her once that night, and when the spunk of Lord A
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and Fred’s was in her. It used to horrify me when I thought of that, such was my masculine inconsistency then.
We all four dined together, but were a little reserved until wine was in us, then we laughed about the night; but Laura, saying we had better forget it, we agreed not to talk about it again, nor did we with the women. Fred and I used often to do so, he never seemed so happy as when he was asking me if Laura was not a damned fine fuck, but directly I said yes, he was silent.