My Secret Life, by "Walter", is the memoir of a gentleman describing the author's sexual development and experiences in Victorian England. The work itself is enormous, amounting to over one million words, the eleven original volumes amounting to over 4,000 pages. The text has a frank discussion of sexual matters and other hidden aspects of Victorian life make it a rare and valuable social document. Enjoy
MY SECRET LIFE BY WALTER
VOLUME-2
Chapter III
A day or two recruited me, I wrote to Camille who met me in the street, she had sent the girl to the theatre with a friend, so I went indoors with her. “Have you done it to her?” was the first question, as if she did not know, I told her all. She questioned me with strong interest. I gave her the fifty pounds. Then she asked me if Louise had told me where she came from, and other questions, which I saw were put to see, if Louise had told about their relationship. As we talked I looked at her, comparing her with Louise, and saw the likeness stronger than ever. “Why stare so?” she asked. When she had heard of all our bum frolics she gave a sigh and said, “Well, if I had not brought her to London, she would have gone to Paris with A… . (mentioning some French name), and have had it done to her there, — so it comes to the same thing.”
Then suddenly, “Are you never going to have me again?” “No”, I had promised Louise. She looked amorously fascinating. “She won’t know it, I have never had it since I left.” She was half reclining on the sofa, by intention or chance her legs raised up on the sofa, one flat, the other foot on its heel, exposing the recumbent limbs from foot to knee. “Do now”, said she. “No”, but I moved from the chair to the end of the sofa, and began stroking her leg with my hand.
She lifted the clothes just above the knee. I saw the large thigh nearly up to her quim, my hand involuntarily slipped higher, and began smoothing the flesh just above the garter. “Do it now”, said she falling right on to her back.
I thought of Louise, of my promise; I knew the look of both their cunts, — of Camille’s the best, — desired to see, to compare it. I had been feeling Louise’s cunt eight days, now thought I should like to feel Camille’s to feel the difference, I knew her cunt was looser, and more hairy, her bum and thighs bigger, yet was I right in my comparison? my cock got uneasy, I helped it to rise in my trowsers by giving it a push outside.
“I won’t have her”, I thought, “but there is no harm in feeling”, and began playing with the hair of her motte. “Your hair is longer than Louise’s.” She laughed, “Do it, baisez-moi”, said she.
My fingers touched the slippery cunt, it was irresistible, the next instant they were groping and feeling. “Your bum is bigger than Louise’s”, I said. She laughed again.
Sitting where I was, and playing at stink-finger, my position was inconvenient. “Come up closer”, said she. Then I sat by her hips, on the sofa-edge, she lifted her clothes right up: there was the quim, the jet-black bush, the fine round thighs, my cock was restive, my hands wandering, she unbuttoned my trowsers, gave my prick a squeeze, sending up the blood and completed my randiness. “Louise won’t know, you shall kiss me”, and she raised herself to throw her arm over my shoulder. Like a young virgin who says, “no, no”, whilst she yields, I kept repeating “no, no”. The thighs had opened, I was pulling open the lips and trying to see the red inside; and still saying “no”, slid on to her, on to it, up it, and spent before I well knew what I was about. “Oh! you are so quick”, said she. “you have spoiled me, I was just coming.”
She did not mean to be spoiled, trying her most baudy endearments, she held me tight, caressed me, as a French woman knows how, — better than any other. Forgetting Louise, my mind fell into its baudy dreams, I fucked her again, and then she let me get up.
And then to business. “What are you going to do for the girl?” she asked. “Nothing, I have given her money and things worth about a hundred pounds, and have paid you, when I have her again I shall give her money.” “You promised to do something more, if not what will become of her?” I did then recollect, that she had made me promise, but had attached no definite ideas to it.
“I relied on you, or would never have brought her; are you going to keep her, or let her be gay like me?”
I did not like either; to keep her I had no intention, did not even like the girl, though I liked plugging her. Said Camille, “We have had a row already, she won’t work, and says she will wear the clothes she has got, although I have only seen a few of them.” “What do you expect?” I asked. “Set her up in business, selling gloves or perfumes, a small shop somewhere.”
Not liking the aspect of affairs, I left, it was the first time such propositions had been made to me. I felt inclined never to go near the house again, but had promised Louise to be with her soon, and always kept my word, so thought over the matter.
Keeping her was out of the question, I had heard that men who kept women, did so for other men; be-sides I had no idea of tieing myself up that way. I was not pleased with her: a fine girl, a fine fuck, a fresh woman who shivered with delight the instant the prick entered her, who was randy-arsed enough to learn anything in the way of copulation; she had been delightful to me eight days, and might for more; but she was coarse, vulgar, and had not two ideas in her head, was evidently violent tempered, and excessively vain. Set her up in business! why she had cost me hundreds to get her, why should I?
I could not make up my mind, and resolved never to go near her again; but two days afterwards, that funny sense of fullness came over my cock-knob, then the tingling, then the desire for cunt, then for Louise’s cunt, the ragged slit made by my cock was before my eyes, and instead of quenching my wants in the channel of some other woman, I went there. Camille was just outside the door, and we conversed together in G..d.n Sq….
She suggested my seeing Louise alone, and paying her (Camille) as I had done before. I did not mean to submit to that restraint, nor to keep her, but let her go her own way. “What does it matter, she must know you will find it all out, so why not at once?” I said.
“If she knows that I know it, I must turn her out (“I don’t think you will turn your sister out”, I thought), “then I must put her into lodgings, and she will be gay.” “I can’t help that.” We came to no conclusion, I left her, went to the door, rang, and Louise opened it. She kissed and hugged me in the passage, a minute afterwards she was on my knee grasping my prick, my fingers were on her cunt, our lips together; in another with tongues lapping together I was up her; in two or three minutes more we were quiet.
(I should so like to experience the feeling a woman has as she sits and talks with her cunt full of sperm, does it feel so very pleasant sitting so?) She poured out her griefs, Camille had asked questions, who had been there? how did she get the bonnet, the new boots? she had refused to tell anything, Camille had said she had better go. “Why not tell Camille?” I said, “if she did not like it she might lump it, as far as I was concerned”; but the girl was evidently afraid, — or was it sham?
Next day I wrote to Louise who met me, and I took her to a house into which I had never been before. For three weeks I met her on writing to her, and we spent hours together. She now had frequent rows with Camille, each time she came to meet me she put on more of her new things; at first she only came with a dress, then with the bonnet and something else, and at last with all the finery; she looked a hand-some swell, but a vulgar one. I ceased paying Camille.
One night she said Madame had had no one visit her for a long time, nor was she much out but often was all night, where she went she did not know; there was one man who came, a gentleman, she thought he was a lover of Camille’s.
We came out of the house in **** street one night after a surfeit of voluptuous pleasures, when a woman stepped across the road, and lifted up her veil. “Oh! my God, it’s Madame”, said Louise, and she got right at the back of me where I stood. “So”, said Camille, “I have found you out, you have been in a baudy house with my old friend.” She burst into a laugh, turned, and went away without saying another word.
I don’t know what actuated me in my course of conduct, at that time I knew well what I did, but my reasons are not so clear, I cared nothing whether Louise knew that her mistress or sister knew I had had her, yet I did not go to the house, firstly because Camille wished me not, unless she was out, and it did not suit me to be waiting for a girl who was burning to let me have her, and also because Louise was in a funk when I was with her in the house, and Camille was out. I was convinced they were sisters, and had a glimmering, that Camille would not like Louise to know she had been got for me by her; yet I thought that it must be found out.
As Camille walked away Louise began to cry, I could not get a word from her; we walked up and down A… street, she was frightened to go home, we went back to the baudy house, and there we slept. The next day we stopped there, and I went home with her, —Camille was within.
“So you have been to a baudy house?” said she, “so you have been fucked, fucked by my friend; you are a nice one to speak ill of other people.” “I am not a whore”, said Louise taking cheek. “Ain’t you?” said Camille, “I don’t know that.” “Say I am a whore, and I’ll hit you”, said Louise going up to her. “Have it out by yourselves, I am not going to stop for a row”, said I, “Camille be good to the girl.” “If I had not brought her from France she would not be what she is.” What was I going to do with her? “Nothing.” Then the sooner Louise went out the better.”
Louise sat down, and began silently crying. I hate to see a woman cry, and always had one remedy, — could champagne be fetched? Mother Boileau condescended to fetch some. We drank, I got communicative, and began to tell Camille. She cut me short, wanted to know nothing, we had been in a baudy house together, it was enough. What was I going to do? the girl would no longer work, and she was going into other lodgings, I might take hers for Louise if I liked.
It gradually shaped itself to this: I was to take the lodgings, Camille to stay rent free, a servant to be got, but one particular friend only was ever to visit Camille there; Louise took Camille’s bed-room, Camille Louise’s, I had in fact the pleasure of keeping both. The next night I slept with Louise in Camille’s bed, slept there several times, and one morning Camille said, “You have got the girl with child, I quite expected it.”
This annoyed me. I had been getting tired for some time, did not like the girl, who became so jealous of Camille, wanted so much admiration, that she quite fatigued me. She wanted to walk in the streets to be admired. I had given her more clothes, she got careless, wanted to go to theatres, and I took her. The Argyle was just opened, and I took her there, she wanted me to go there often. I had seen one or two other women I lusted for, but above all wanted to go to France with Fred who had returned from India; so her being in the family way bothered me. I got it into my head, that it was a plant, and took her to my friend the doctor who said it was a fact.
Camille asked me to meet her in G..d.n Sq..e, for convenience I took her to the baudy house; she had got mighty particular, made me go in first, and came in afterwards with her veil down, — she always now wore a veil. She again asked me what I was going to do. She had got the girl, and was sorry for it, at length she said, “I am going to be married, go into business, and will take her with me, if you will help, or I will get her home again to France, if you will give her money.” I agreed to think of it.
We sat on a sofa. As I looked at her I began to feel a desire for her. “Let us have a kiss”, said I, for old acquaintance sake.” “No”, said she, “I am going to be married, am perhaps watched, am frightened of being here. I expect my friend back from abroad daily, he may have come back now. Madame Boileau knows him, I must be careful.”
But how can a woman resist a man who has had her often, who knows every crack and cranny of her body, has looked at her motte long enough to count every hair on it, a few rubs on her clitoris, and back she fell on the sofa. We were both dressed, but plunging up her, and grasping her ample rump, I was soon enjoying her; when thinking of Louise, and I suppose comparing her mentally, I said in the height of my pleasure, “Oh! I like fucking you better than your sister after all”, or something to that effect.
“What?” said she with a start as her cunt clipped, and jerked my prick out. Cursing, and damning at my interruption I drove it up again, and consummated.
“What did you say about being like my sister?” said she as I still lay with my doodle up her, “what sister?” I replied she looked so like Louise, that she must be her sister. “But she is not, although she is like me.” Then the matter dropped, and she slopped her cunt clean. I used to like a woman whom I knew not to wash it, when I was going to fuck her again, Camille had humored me in this, and as my lust came on for my second poke, used to bring my amatory pastime by looking at the cunt with my pleasure signs on it. So Camille washing astonished me. “I am going to be married, and must,” said she.
We had more fucking before we left. She was all anxiety about Louise, for I would say nothing. “You will never see me here again”, said she, “nor have me again, and may do with Louise what you like, I shan’t be here, you will throw her on the town”. Then she veiled closely, and made me go out first. I waited at the top of the street ten minutes, out she came, veil down, and shot off in the direction of G..d. n sq..e like an arrow.
I now with perversity longed for Camille, instead of Louise, but never had her afterwards, never sent my tallow up her, although I tried once or twice.
I began going about elsewhere, sleeping with Louise at times; but she was always pestering me about being in the family way, which annoyed me; and wanted such a lot of ballocking, that that annoyed me also. My cousin Fred wanted me to go to Paris with him, Louise said I was going to forsake her. One night after dining with her, coming out we met my cousin Fred, no-thing put him off, and he would walk with us. The next day he said in his old unchaste way, which some years in India had not improved, “So that is the woman your mother says she fears has got hold of you.” It was the first time I had heard, that my mother had any such suspicion, for although she had spoken to me about my wildness, she had never referred to a woman; but she had told my aunt, who told my cousin my mother was awfully astonished. For that six years I had shagged all our servants under her very nose, yet she had not the faintest suspicion of it, my pranks now coming to her ears, shocked her extremely. I told Fred, that I had had Louise’s first, to which he re-plied, that he should like to rattle his stones against her arse. “Is she a good fuck? where does she live?” I did not mean his stones to knock against her arse as long as mine did, I replied, “Oh! you are fond of her then?” “No”, but I preferred her to myself. “Lord, what does it matter?” said he, “white women are scarce in India, there was one that all in my regiment were fond of, there was not an officer who did not stroke her, none of us minded; we say “the more a cunt’s buttered, the better it grinds.” I did not see it in that light, so with the remark from him, that she was a damned fine piece, we parted.
Two or three days afterwards he spoke of her again, said he knew where she lived, so I thought he was hunting after her which annoyed me; not seeing that if he had got into her, I could have left her with good excuse.
I had tried to learn from Louise if she knew where Camille went all day, but could learn nothing, one night in bed with her however, whilst handling each other’s privates, and under the sympathy generated by the rub of my fingers on her clitoris; she on my solemn promise of secrecy, told me that an old friend of Camille’s had opened a glove and lace shop in O.f..d street. I saw a small shop, there was a French-man in it whose face I seemed to know. I waited near it one night, and saw Camille leave the shop closely veiled, and take the best way towards G..d.n sq..e. Madame Boileau was like an oyster I could get nothing out of her, although she took my money. I was sure that Camille went to the shop daily, or nearly so, and as no man came to the house, suppose she got her cunt plugged in the shop parlour.
Afterwards Fred talked so much about Louise, that I said I kept her. “There are two there, do you keep both?” “Yes.” “Then you are a fool, you can’t be sure of one woman’s cunt if you are not with her always, but two together are sure to make a couple of whores,—no wonder your tin goes so fast.”
Meanwhile I went out with him of a night, and we had different women. One night three of us went to a cigar-shop kept by two women just by ****, it was not an unusual thing then for two to have a cigar-shop, with a big sofa in a back parlour, one keeping shop whilst the other fucked. From talking we got to business without intending it. Fred began joking the girls, we went into the back parlour, and had wine, one asked my cousin if he did not want to lie down and rest himself. He said “yes”, but wanted warmth to his belly when he rested. “You may have my belly to warm you”, said she. “What here?” “Oh! they can wait”, said the girl, “and your quiet friend can find his tongue with my sister” (the other girl). I had not spoken, being at times timid at first with a woman, and especially a gay one.
We said jokingly, that we had no money. “I will take you all for a sovereign”, said she, “and the one who I say is the best poke shall give me another half-sovereign.” It was agreed, we tossed up for the order of the fucking, two went outside while the other had his pleasure. My turn came last, the excitement in thinking of what was going on made me in such a state, that I was no sooner up her than I spent; when I went out the other girl said. “You have been in a hurry.” My cousin was pronounced the best fucker. Whilst the strumming was going on in the parlour, people bought cigars, and tobacco — for it was really sold there, — little did they guess the fun going on behind that rod curtain of the shop-parlour.
A night or so after I slept with Louise, I felt uneasy in the tip of my prick, and saw unmistakably that it was the clap. It was not Louise’s gift, for great was her surprise when I saw her twice afterwards, and never attempted to have her. She was annoyed, and said she supposed I had another friend, and put herself in such luscious attitudes, that I got a cock-stand, and could scarcely resist putting it up her, but saying I was ill went away. Fred said he should go to Paris without me, I was to join him in a fortnight. What with being indifferent to Louise, annoyed with her randiness, her vulgarity, and temper, being in fact tired of her and the expense, and now having the clap, I determined to break off; so wrote to Camille to meet me.
I told her I had the clap. “I thought there was something wrong”, said she, “but Louise I can swear has never had any other man than you, take her to any doctor you like.” Then she told me, that in three weeks she meant to leave England, and Louise must do the best she could, she had taken means to bring on the girl’s courses, would I send her back to France, or must she go gay in London.
I could not bear the idea of the girl being gay, so agreed to give her money to take her abroad with her, and she accepted. By her advice I wrote to Louise, said I had the clap, and feared I had given it to her, that she would not forgive me I was sure, and so never meant to see her again.
I sent a cheque to Louise, it passed through my bankers, and suppose the girl had it. Then went to Paris, my illness kept to me, so returned to London, got a little better, longed for Louise, stood opposite the house one night, nearly crossed over to have her, but resisted, and seeing a nice woman in Regent street went home with her. I was so impatient, that I pushed her to the side of the bed directly I was in the room, felt for her cunt, and spent in her in a minute, she had not taken her bonnet off. My spending hurt me, my doctor had told me I could go with a woman without fear of injuring her, but that for my own sake I had better abstain. She got up, and took off her bonnet, to see if lying down had hurt it. “I’ll have you again”, said I. “Let me wash, you’ve spent such a lot, it’s all running down my thighs.” Again I fucked her; and next morning my ailment came back. My doctor said it served me right.
Shortly after “lodgings to let” was posted up in Camille’s windows, on calling, Madame Boileau came to the door. The two women had left, the shop in Oxford street was shut up, and I never heard of the women afterwards.
I am astonished now, that I was wheedled out of so much money for a French virgin. How I could have done much that I did makes me now laugh, I must have been very green, and Camille very cunning; but I was also rich, and generous, which accounts for much. I see now how largely I was humbugged, but cannot explain or reason about it. I am telling facts as they occurred, as far as I recollect them, it is all I can do. Certainly I had a splendid full-grown virgin for my money, the toughest virginity I yet have taken, a regular cock-bender, and had an uninterrupted honey-moon. Camille was a most superior harlot, genteel, clever, and voluptuous, such as are not usually found; with her and her findings I had a year’s enjoyment, leaving me lav, blaze, and a half-cured clap. What with women, horses, carriages, cards, dinners, and other items, I was a few thousands poorer than at the beginning of my acquaintance with Camille.
It’s my fate to have sisters, — how curious!—and thrice to have had the clap, and yet not three-andtwenty, — how hard!
I was very much used up, and needed rest for body and mind; never had I been so much so before. Up to the time of getting my fortune want of money curbed my lascivious tastes, and although I had servant after servant in my mother’s house, the difficulties of getting them, gave me frequent rests, and prevented me generally from exhausting myself; perhaps I got just enough fucking to keep me in health. The year’s rioting with Camille and her troupe, would have tried a strong man; I never counted them, but think, that in that year I must have poked something like sixt
To be Continued
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Notes;
1. During my visit to London for studies where we had an Old Ancestral Home, I stumbled on a family treasure. Apart from other things I also found a hump of books, diaries, and notes in the treasure which contained classic, Age-old, Erotic books, Novels, and Magazines probably collected by my Ancestors. They are all timeless and precious. They are a must-read for all erotica lovers.
2. Out of the aforesaid collection, presenting an amazing account which was first published in 1888, My Secret Life, by "Walter", is the memoir of a gentleman.
3. The book My Secret Life has been authored by "Walter". The identity of "Walter" is unknown. so the Original Authors are long dead or unknown.
4. My Secret Life, by "Walter", is the memoir of a gentleman describing the author's sexual development and experiences in Victorian England. It was first published in a private edition of eleven volumes, at the expense of the author, including an imperfect index, which appeared over seven years beginning around 1888.
5. The work in having 11 Volumes containing a total of 184 chapters apart from the Introduction & Preface.
6 All characters be read as of more than age of 18 years.
7. My sincere apologies to the author of the Novel and readers for editing, or modifying the underage content, if any, to make it suitable for publishing in Modern times. y, or seventy different women, I poked everyone of Camille’s acquaintances, I am sure, — so it was time I had a rest.