THE PEARL,
A Journal of Facetiæ and Voluptuous
Reading.
No. 1
PUBLISHED MONTHLY.
July
1879
AN APOLOGY FOR OUR TITLE.
Having decided to bring out a Journal,
the Editor racks his brains for a suitable name with which to christen his
periodical. Friends are generally useless in an emergency of this kind; they
suggest all kinds of impossible names; the following were some of the titles
proposed in this instance: "Facts and Fancies," "The Cremorne," "The All Round,"
"The Monthly Courses," "The Devil's Own," and "Dugdale's Ghost"; the two first
had certainly great attractions to our mind, but at last our own ideas have hit
upon the modest little "Pearl," as more suitable, especially in the hope that
when it comes under the snouts of the moral and hypocritical swine of the world,
they may not trample it underfoot, and feel disposed to rend the publisher, but
that a few will become subscribers on the quiet. To such better disposed
piggywiggys, I would say, for encouragement, that they have only to keep up
appearances by regularly attending church, giving to charities, and always
appearing deeply interested in moral philanthropy, to ensure a respectable and
highly moral character, and that if they only are clever enough never to be
found out, they may, sub rosa, study and enjoy the philosophy of life till the
end of their days, and earn a glorious and saintly epitaph on their tombstone,
when at last the Devil pegs them out.
EDITOR OF THE "PEARL."
SUB-UMBRA, OR SPORT AMONG THE
SHE-NOODLES.
The merry month of May has always been
famous for its propitious influence over the voluptuous senses of the fairer
sex.
I will tell you two or three little
incidents which occurred to me in May, 1878, when I went to visit my cousins in
Sussex, or as I familiarly call them, the She-Noodles, for the sport they
afforded me at various times.
My uncle's is a nice country residence,
standing in large grounds of its own, and surrounded by small fields of arable
and pasture land, interspersed by numerous interesting copses, through which run
footpaths and shady walks, where you are not likely to meet anyone in a month. I
shall not trouble my readers with the name of the locality, or they may go
pleasure hunting for themselves. Well, to go on, these cousins consisted of
Annie, Sophie, and Polly, beside their brother Frank, who, at nineteen, was the
eldest, the girls being, respectively, eighteen, sixteen, and fifteen. After
dinner, the first day of my arrival, paterfamilias and mamma both indulged in a
snooze in their armchair, whilst us boys and girls (I was the same age as Frank)
took a stroll in the grounds. I attached myself more particularly to cousin
Annie, a finely developed blonde, with deep blue eyes, pouting red lips, and a
full heaving bosom, which to me looked like a perfect volcano of smothered
desires. Frank was a very indolent fellow, who loved to smoke his cigar, and
expected his sisters, who adored him, to sit by his side, reading some of the
novels of the day, or tell him their love secrets, &c. This was by far too
tame an amusement for me, and as I had not been there for nearly three years, I
requested Annie to show me the improvements in the grounds before we went in to
tea, saying to Frank, banteringly, "I suppose, old fellow, you're too, lazy, and
would prefer your sister taking me round?"
"I'm too comfortable; lazy is an ugly
word, Walter, but the fact is, Soph is just reading a most interesting book, and
I can't leave it," he replied; "besides, sissie is quite as well, or better
qualified than I am to show off the grounds. I never notice
anything."
"Come on, Annie," said I taking her hand;
"Frank is in love."
"No, I'm sure he never thinks of a girl,
except his sisters," was the reply.
We were now out of earshot, in a shady
walk, so I went on a little more freely. "But, surely you, coz, are in love, if
he is not. I can tell it by your liquid eye and heaving bosom."
A scarlet flush shot over her features at
my allusion to her finely moulded bosom, but it was evidently pleasing, and far
from offensive, to judge by her playfully spoken, "Oh! Walter, for shame,
sir!"
We were a good distance away by this
time, and a convenient seat stood near, so throwing my arms around the blushing
girl, I kissed her ruby lips, and drawing her with me, said, "Now, Annie, dear,
I'm your cousin and old playfellow, I couldn't help kissing those beautiful
lips, which I might always make free with when we were little boy and girl
together; now you shall confess all before I let you go."
"But I've nothing to confess,
sir."
"Do you never think of love, Annie? Look
me in the face if you can say it's a stranger to your bosom," putting my hand
familiarly round her neck till my right hand rested on one of the panting globes
of her bosom.
She turned her face to mine, suffused as
it was by a deeper blush than ever, as her dark blue eyes
met mine, in a fearless search of my meaning, but instead of
speaking in response to this mute appeal, I kissed her
rapturously, sucking in the fragrance of her sweet breath till she
fairly trembled with emotion.
It was just beginning to get dusk, my
hands were caressing the white, firm flesh of her beautiful neck, slowly
working their way towards the heaving bubbies a little lower down; at
last I whispered, "What a fine, what a lovely bust you have developed since I
saw you last, dear Annie, you won't mind your cousin, will you, when everything
used to be so free to each other; besides, what harm can there be in
it?"
She seemed on fire, a thrill of emotion
seemed to shoot through both of us, and for several moments she lay almost
motionless in my arms, with one hand resting on my thigh. Priapus was awake and
ready for business, but she suddenly aroused herself, saying, "We must never
stop here, let us walk round or they will suspect something."
"When shall we be alone again, darling?
We must arrange that before we go in," I said quickly.
It was impossible to keep her on the
seat, but as we walked on she said, musingly, "To-morrow morning we might go for
a stroll before lunch, Frank lies in bed, and my sisters are keeping house this
week; I shall have to mind the tarts and pies next week."
I gave her another hug and a kiss, as I
said, "How delightful that will be; what a dear, thoughtful girl you are,
Annie."
"Mind, sir, how you behave to-morrow, not
so much kissing, or I shan't take you for a second walk; here we are at the
house."
Next morning was gloriously warm and
fine; as soon as breakfast was over we started for our stroll, being
particularly minded by papa to be back in good time for luncheon.
I gradually drew out my beautiful cousin,
till our conversation got exceedingly warm, the hot blood rushing in waves of
crimson over her shamefaced visage.
"What a rude boy you have grown Walter,
since you were here last; I can't help blushing at the way you run on, sir!" she
exclaimed at last.
"Annie, my darling," I replied, "what can
be more pleasing than to talk of fun with pretty girls, the beauties of their
legs and bosoms, and all about them? How I should love to see your lovely calf
at this moment, especially after the glimpses I have already had of a divine
ankle," saying which I threw myself under a shady tree, close by a gate in a
meadow, and drew the half-resisting girl down on the grass at my side, and
kissed her passionately, as I murmured, "Oh! Annie, what is there worth living
for like the sweets of love?"
Her lips met mine in a fiery embrace, but
suddenly disengaging herself, her eyes cast down, and looking awfully abashed,
she stammered out, "What is it? what do you mean, Walter?"
"Ah, coz dear, can you be so innocent?
Feel here the dart of love all impatient to enter the mossy grotto between your
thighs," I whispered, placing her hand upon my prick, which I had suddenly let
out of the restraining trousers. "How you sigh; grasp it in your hand, dear, is
it possible that you do not understand what it is for?"
Her face was crimson to the roots of her
hair, as her hand grasped my tool, and her eyes seemed to start with terror
at
the sudden apparition of Mr. John Thomas;
so that taking advantage of her speechless confusion my own hand, slipping under
her clothes, soon had possession of her mount, and in spite of the nervous
contraction of her thighs, the forefinger searched out the virgin
clitoris.
"Ah! oh! oh!! Walter don't; what are you
about?"
"It's all love, dear, open your thighs a
wee bit and see what pleasure my finger will make you experience," I again
whispered, smothering her with renewed and luscious kisses, thrusting the velvet
tip of my tongue between her lips.
"Oh! oh! you will hurt!" she seemed to
sigh rather than speak, as her legs relaxed a little of their spasmodic
contraction.
My lips continued glued to hers, our
otherwise disengaged arms clasped each other closely round the waist, her hand
holding my affair in a kind of convulsive grasp, whilst my fingers were busy
with clitoris and cunny; the only audible sound resembling a mixture of kisses
and sighs, till all in a moment I felt her crack deluged with a warm, creamy
spend whilst my own juice spurted over her hand and dress in loving
sympathy.
In a short while we recovered our
composure a little, and I then explained to her that the melting ecstasy she had
just felt was only a slight foretaste of the joy I could give her, by inserting
my member in her cunny. My persuasive eloquence and the warmth of her desires
soon overcame all maiden fears and scruples; then for fear of damaging her
dress, or getting the green stain of the grass on the knees of my light
trousers,
I persuaded her to stand up by the gate
and allow me to enter behind. She hid her face in her hands on the top rail of
the gate, as I slowly raised her dress; what glories were unfolded to view, my prick's stiffness
was renewed in an instant at the sight of her delicious buttocks, so beautifully
relieved by the white of her pretty drawers; as I opened them and exposed the
flesh, I could see the lips of her plump pouting cunny, deliciously feathered,
with soft light down, her lovely legs, drawers, stockings, pretty boots, making
a tout ensemble, which as I write and describe them cause Mr. Priapus to swell
in my breeches; it was a most delicious sight. I knelt and kissed her bottom,
slit, and everything my tongue could reach, it was all mine, I stood up and
prepared to take possession of the seat of love—when, alas! a sudden
shriek
from Annie, her clothes dropped, all my
arrangements were upset in a moment; a bull had unexpectedly appeared on the
opposite side of the gate, and frightened my love by the sudden application of
his cold, damp nose to her forehead. It is too much to contemplate that scene
even now.
(To be continued.)
>MISS COOTE'S CONFESSION,
OR THE VOLUPTUOUS EXPERIENCES OF AN OLD
MAID; In a series of Letters to a Lady Friend.
LETTER I.
My Dear Girl,
I know I have long promised you an
account of the reason of my penchant for the rod, which, in my estimation, is
one of the most voluptuous and delicious institutions of private life,
especially to a supposed highly respectable old maid like your esteemed friend.
Treaties must be carried out, and promises kept, or how can I ever hope for the
pleasure of making you taste my little green tickler again. Writing, and
especially a sort of confession of my voluptuous weakness, is a most unpleasant
task, as I feel as shamefaced in putting these things on paper as when my
grandfather's housekeeper first bared my poor blushing little bottom to his
ruthless attack. My only consolation at commencing is the hope that I shall warm
to the subject as it progresses, in my endeavour to depict, for your
gratification, some of the luscious episodes of my early days.
My grandfather, as you well know, was the
celebrated Indian General, Sir Eyre Coote, almost as well known for his
eight-penny fiasco with the Bluecoat boys as for his services to the Hon. E. I.
Company. He was a confirmed martinet, and nothing delighted him so much as a
good opportunity for the use of the cat, but I cannot tell you anything about
that, as that was before my time. My first recollection of hint
is after the aforesaid City scandal, when
he had to retire from public life in comparative disgrace. My parents both died
when I was just upon twelve years of age, and the old General, who had no other
relatives to care for, took entire charge of me, and, at his death, I was left
his sole heiress, and mistress of nearly £3,000 per annum.
He resided in a quiet country house some
twenty miles from London, where I spent the first few months of my orphaned
life, with only his housekeeper, Mrs. Mansell, and the two servants, Jane and
Jemima. The old General being away in Holland searching, so I afterwards heard,
for original editions respecting the practices of Cornelius Hadrien, a curious
work on the flagellation of religious penitents by a father
confessor.
It was the middle of summer when he
returned, and I soon found the liberty I had been enjoying considerably
restricted. Orders not to pluck the flowers, or the fruit in the garden; and a
regular lesson set me every day by the old autocrat himself. At first they were
tolerably simple, but gradually increased in difficulty, and now, in after
years, I can plainly understand his wolf and lamb tactics, by which I must
eventually fall under his assumed just displeasure.
What gave me considerable pleasure at
this time was his decided objection to mourning, or anything at all sombre in my
dress. He said my parents had been shown every possible respect by wearing black
for months, and I must now be dressed as became a young lady of my good
expectations.
Although we scarcely ever received
company, and then only some old fogy of his military acquaintance, I was
provided with a profusion of new and elegant dresses, as well as beautiful
shoes, slippers, drawers, and underlinen, all trimmed with finest lace &c.,
not even forgetting some very beautiful garters, a pair of which with gold
buckles, he would insist upon putting on for me, taking no notice of my blushing
confusion, as he pretended to arrange my drawers and skirts afterwards, but
merely to remark: What a fine figure I should make, if they ever had to strip me
for punishment.
Soon my lessons began to be harder than I
could fairly manage. One day he expostulated, "Oh! Rosa; Rosa!! why don't you
try to be a better girl. I don't want to punish you."
"But grandfather," I replied, "how can I
learn so much of
that horrid French every day. I'm sure no
one else could do it."
"Hold your tongue, Miss Pert, I must be a
better judge than a little girl like you."
"But, grandfather dear, you know I do
love you, and I do try my best."
"Well, prove your love and diligence in
future, or your posterior must feel a nice little birch, I shall get ready for
you," said he sternly.
Another week passed, during which I could
not help observing an unusual fire and sparkle in his eyes, whenever I appeared
in evening dress at the dinner table (we always dined in quiet state), and he
also suggested that I ought to wear a choice little bouquet of fresh flowers in
my bosom, to set off my complexion.
But the climax was approaching, I was not
to escape long; he again found fault, and gave me what he gravely called one
last chance: my eyes were filled with tears, and I trembled to look at his stern
old face, and knew any remonstrance on my part would be useless.
The prospect of punishment made me so
nervous, it was with the greatest difficulty I could attend to my lessons, and
the second day after, I broke down entirely.
"Oh! Ho! it's come to this has it,
Rosie?" said the old gentleman, "nothing will do, you must be
punished."
Ringing the bell for Mrs. Mansell, he
told her to have the punishment room and the servants all ready, when he should
want them, as he was sorry to say "Miss Rosa was so idle, and getting worse and
worse with her lessons every day, she must now be taken severely in hand or she
would be spoiled for life."
"Now, you bad girl," said he, as the
housekeeper retired, "go to your room and reflect upon what your idleness has
brought to you."
Full of indignation, confusion, and
shame, I rushed to my chamber, and bolted the door, determined they should break
the door down first before I would submit to such a public exposure, before the
two servants; throwing myself on the bed, I gave vent to my tears for at least a
couple of hours, expecting every moment the dreadful summons to attend the old
man's punishment drill, as he called it, but, no one disturbing me, I at
last came to the conclusion it was only a plan of his
to frighten me, and so I fell into a
soothing sleep. A voice at the door awakened me, and I recognized the voice of
Jane, as she said, "Miss Rosa, Miss Rosa, you'll be late for
dinner."
"No dinner for me, Jane, if I'm going to
be punished; go away, leave me alone," whispered I through the
keyhole.
"Oh! Miss Rosie, the General's been in
the garden all the afternoon, quite good-tempered, perhaps he's forgotten it
all; don't make him angry by not being ready for dinner, let me in
quick."
So I cautiously drew the bolt, and let
her assist me to dress.
"Cheer up, Miss Rosie, don't look dull,
go down as if nothing had happened, and most likely all will be forgotten; his
memory is so short, especially if you put in your bosom this sweet little
nosegay to please him, as you have never done it since he said it would set off
your complexion."
Thus encouraged, I met my grandfather
with a good appetite, and, as if the "bitterness was past," like Agag before
Samuel, little suspecting I should be almost hewed in pieces
afterwards.
The dinner passed most pleasantly, for
such a formal affair as my grandfather made it, he took several glasses of wine,
and in the middle of the dessert seemed to contemplate me with unusual interest;
at last suddenly seeming to notice the little bouquet of damask and white roses,
he said, "That's right, Rosa, I see you have carried out my suggestion of a
nosegay at last; it quite improves your appearance, but nothing to what my birch
will effect on your naughty bottom, which will soon look like one of those fine
peaches, and now's the time to do it," said he, ringing the bell.
Almost distracted, and ready to faint, I
rushed for the door, but only in time to fall into the arms of strong
Jemima.
"Now for punishment drill; march
on, Jemima, with the culprit, you've got her safe; Mrs. Mansell and Jane, come
on," said he to them, as they appeared in the background.
Resistance was useless. I was soon
carried into a spare room I had never entered; it contained very little
furniture, except the carpet, and one comfortable easy chair; but on the walls
hung several bunches of twigs, and in one corner stood a thing like a
stepladder, but covered with red baize, and fitted with six rings, two halfway
up, two at bottom, and two at the top.
"Tie her to the horse, and get ready for
business," said the
General, as he seated himself in the
chair, to look on at his ease.
"Come, Rosa, dear, don't be troublesome,
and make your grandfather more angry," said Mrs. Mansell, unfastening my
waistband. "Slip off your dress, whilst the girls put the horse in the middle of
the room."
"Oh! No! No! I won't be whipped," I
screamed. "Oh! Sir! Oh! Grandfather, do have mercy," said I, throwing myself on
my knees before the old man.
"Come, come, it's no use showing the
white feather, Rosa, it's for your own good. No more nonsense. Mrs. Mansell, do
your duty, and let us get the painful business over; she isn't one of my stock
if she doesn't show her pluck when it comes to the pinch."
The three women all tried to lift me, but
I kicked, scratched, and bit all round, and, for a moment or two, almost beat
them off in my fury, but my strength was soon exhausted, and Jemima, smarting
from a severe bite, carried me in vengeful triumph to the dreaded machine. Quick
as thought, my hands and feet were secured to the upper and lower rings; the
horse widening towards the ground caused my legs to be well apart when drawn up
closely to the rings at my ankles.
I could hear Sir Eyre chuckle with
delight, as he exclaimed, "By God! she's a vixen, and it must be taken out of
her, she's a Coote all over. Bravo, Rosie! Now get her ready
quickly."
I submitted in sullen despair, whilst my
torn dress and underskirts were turned up and pinned round my shoulders, but
when they began to unloose my drawers, my rage burst out afresh, and turning my
head, I saw the old man, his stern face beaming with pleased animation, whisking
in his right hand a small bunch of fresh birchen twigs. My blood was in a boil,
and my bottom tingled with anticipated strokes, especially when Jemima, pulling
the drawers nearly down to my knees, gave me a smart little slap on the sly, to
let me know what I might soon expect, and I fairly shouted, "You must be a cruel
old beast to let them treat me so."
"Old beast, indeed!" said he, jumping up
in a passion. "We'll see about that, Miss; perhaps you'll be glad to apologize
before long."
I saw him stepping forward. "Oh! Mercy!
Mercy! Sir! I
didn't mean it; they've hurt me so; I
couldn't help what I said."
"This is a really serious case," said he,
apparently addressing the others. "She's idle, violently vicious, and even
insulting to me, her only natural guardian, instead of treating me with proper
respect. There can be no alternative, the only remedy, however painful the scene
may be to us who have to inflict the punishment, is to carry it out, as a matter
of duty, or the girl will be ruined. She has never been under proper control all
her life."
"Oh! Grandfather, punish me any way but
this. I know I can't bear it; it's so dreadfully cruel," I sobbed out through my
tears,
"My child, such crocodile tears have no
effect on me; you must be made to feel the smart. If we let you off now, you
would be laughing at it all, and go on worse than before. Stand aside, Jane, we
can't waste any more time." So saying, he made a flourish with the rod, so as to
make quite an audible "whisk" in the air. I suppose it was only to clear the
way, as it did not touch me; in fact up to this time, he had treated me like a
cat which knows the poor mousey cannot escape, but may be pounced upon at any
time.
I could see the tears in Jane's eyes, but
Jemima had a malicious smile on her face, and Mrs. Mansell looked very grave,
but no time was allowed for reflections; the next instant I felt a smart but not
heavy stroke right across my loins, then another, and another, in rather quick
succession, but not too fast for me to think that perhaps after all it would not
be so dreadful as I feared; so setting my teeth firmly without uttering a word,
I determined to give as little indication as possible of my feelings. All this
and a great deal more flashed through my brain before six strokes had been
administered, my bottom tingled all over, and the blood seemed to rush like
lightning through my veins at every blow, and my face felt as my poor
posteriors.
"Now, you idle puss," said the General,
"you begin to feel the fruits of your conduct. Will you? Will you call me an old
beast again?" giving a harder stroke at each ejaculation.
My courage still sustained my resolution
not to cry out, but only seemed to make him more angry.
"Sulky tempered and obstinate, by Jove!"
he continued;
"we must draw it out of you. Don't think,
Miss, I'm to be beaten by a little wench like you; take that, and that, and
that," whisking me with still greater energy, concluding with a tremendous whack
which drew up the skin to bursting tension, and I felt another like it would
make the blood spurt forth, but he suddenly paused in his fury, as if for want
of breath, but as I now know too well, only to prolong his own exquisite
pleasure.
Thinking all was over, I entreated them
to let me go, but to my sorrow soon found my mistake.
"Not yet, not yet, you bad girl, you're
not half punished for all your biting, scratching, and impudence," exclaimed Sir
Eyre.
Again the hateful birch hissed through
the air, and cut into my bruised flesh, both buttocks and thighs, suffering and
smarting in agony, but he seemed careful at first not to draw the blood;
however, I was not to escape, it was only his deliberate plan of attack, so as
not to exhaust the poor victim too soon.
"Bite, and scratch, and fight against my
orders again, will you? Miss Rosie, you'll know next time what to expect. You
deserve no mercy, the idleness was bad enough, but such murderous conduct is
awful; I believe you would have killed anyone in your passion if you could.
Bite, scratch, and fight, eh! Bite, will you?" Thus lectured the old man,
getting warmer and warmer in his attack, till the blood fairly trickled down my
poor thighs.
I was in dreadful agony at every cut, and
must have fainted, but his lecturing seemed to sustain me like a cordial;
besides, with the pain I experienced a most pleasurable warmth and excitability
impossible to be described, but which, doubtless, you, my dear, have felt for
yourself when under my discipline.
But all my fortitude could not much
longer suppress my sighs and moans, and at last I felt as if
I must die under the torture, in spite of the exquisite
sensation which mingled with it; notwithstanding my ohs and ahs,
and stifled cries, I would not ask for mercy again; my sole
thoughts ran upon the desire for vengeance, and how I should
like to whip and cut them all in pieces, especially the
General and Jemima, and even poor tearful Jane,
Sir Eyre seemed to forget his age, and
worked away in frightful excitement.
"Damme, won't you cry for mercy? Won't
you apologize, you young hussy," he hissed between his teeth. "She's tougher and
more obstinate than any of the family, a real chip of the old block. But to be
beaten by the young spitfire, Mrs. Mansell, is more than I can bear. There!
there! there!" cried he; and at last the worn-out stump of the rod fell from his
hand, as he sank back quite exhausted in his chair.
"Mrs. Mansell," he gasped, "give her
half-a-dozen good stripes with a new rod to finish her off, and let her know
that although she may exhaust an old man, there are other strong arms that can
dispense justice to her impudent rump."
The housekeeper, in obedience to the
command, takes up a fine fresh birch, and cuts deliberately, counting, in clear
voice, one, two, three, four, five, six (her blows were heavy, but did not seem
to sting so cruelly as those given by Sir Eyre). "There," she says, "Miss Rosa,
I might have laid it on more heavily, but I pitied you this first
time."
Nearly dead, and frightfully cut up,
although victorious, I had to be carried to my room. But what a victory? all
torn and bleeding, as I was, besides the certainty that the old General would
renew his attack the first favourable opportunity.
Poor Jane laughed and cried over my
lacerated posteriors as she tenderly washed me with cold arnica and water, and
she seemed so used to the business that when we retired to rest (for I got her to sleep with me) I
asked her if she had not often attended bruised bottoms before,
"Yes, Miss Rosie," she replied; "but you
must keep the secret and not pretend to know anything. I have been whipped
myself, but not so bad as you were, although it's cruel. We all rather like it
after the first time or two; especially if we are not cut up too much. Next time
you should shout out well for mercy, &c., as it pleases the old man, and he
won't be so furious. He was so bad and exhausted with whipping you, Mrs. Mansell
was going to send for the doctor, but Jemima said a good birching would do him
more good, and draw the blood away from his head; so they pickled him finely,
till he quite came to himself, and begged hard to be let off."
Thus ended my first lesson; and, in
further letters, you
shall hear how I got on with Jane,
continued the contest with the General, my adventures at Mrs. Flaybum's school,
and my own domestic discipline since left to myself.
Believe me, Dear Nellie, Your
affectionate friend ROSA BELINDA COOTE.
(To be continued.)
LADY POKINGHAM; OR THEY ALL DO
IT:
Giving an Account of her Luxurious
Adventures, both before and after her Marriage with Lord
Crim-Con.
INTRODUCTION.
To the Reader,
Very little apology will be needed for
putting in print the following highly erotic and racy narrative of a young
patrician lady, whose adventures I feel assured every genuine lover of
voluptuous reading will derive as much or more pleasure afforded your humble
servant,
The subject of these memoirs was one of
the brightest and most charming of her sex, endued with such exquisite nervous
sensitiveness, in addition to an unusual warmth of constitution that she was
quite unable to resist the seductive influences of God's finest creation; for
God made man in his own image, male and female, created he them; and this was
the first commandment, "Be faithful and multiply, and replenish the earth"—see
Genesis, chap. 1.
The natural instinct of the ancients
instilled in their minds the idea that copulation was the direct and most
acceptable form of worship they could offer to their deities, and I know that
those of my readers who are not bigoted Christians will agree with me, that
there cannot be any great sin in giving way to natural desires, and enjoying, to
the utmost, all those delicious sensations for which a beneficent Creator has so
amply fitted us.
Poor girl, she did not live long, and in
thoroughly enjoying her few briefs years of butterfly life, who can think her
wicked!
The scraps from which my narrative is
compiled were found in a packet she had entrusted to a devoted servitor, who,
after her sudden and premature death at the early age of twenty-three, entered
my service.
As author, I feel the crudeness of my
style may be a little offensive to some, but hope my desire to afford general
pleasure will excuse my defects.
THE AUTHOR,
PART I.
My dear Walter,
How I love you! but alas! you will never
know it till I am gone; little do you think, as you wheel me about in my invalid
chair, how your delicate attentions have won the heart of a poor consumptive on
the verge of the grave. How I long to suck the sweets of love from your lips; to
fondle and caress your lordly priapus, and feel its thrilling motions within me;
but such joys cannot be, the least excitement would be my death, and I can but
sigh as I look at your kind loving face, and admire the fine proportions of my
darling, as evidenced by the large bunch of keys you always seem to have in your
pocket; indeed you look to have a key of keys, whose burning thrusts would
unlock any virgin cabinet.
This is a strange fancy of mine (the
writing for your perusal a short account of some of my adventures); but one of
the only pleasures left me is to indulge in reveries of the past, and seem to
feel over again the thrilling emotions of voluptuous enjoyments, which are now
denied to me; and I hope the recital of my escapades and follies may afford you
some slight pleasure, and add to the lasting regard with which I hope you will
remember me in years to come. One thing I ask of you, dear Walter, is to fancy
you are enjoying Beatrice Pokingham when you are in the embraces of some future
inamorata. It is a pleasure I have often indulged in myself when in the action
of coition, and heightened my bliss by letting my fancy run riot, and imagined I
was in the arms of someone I particularly wished for, but could not come at. My
income dies with me, so I have no cause to make a will, but you will find notes
for a few hundred pounds enclosed with this outline of my adventures, which is
all I have been able to save. You will
also find a fine lock of dark brown hair,
which I have cut from the abundant chevelure of my Mons Veneris; other friends
and relatives may have the admired curls from my head, your memento is cut from
the sacred spot of love.
I never remember my father, the Marquis
of Pokingham, but have my doubts as to whether I am really entitled to the
honour of claiming him as a parent, as he was a used-up old , man, and from
papers and letters, which passed privately between him and my mother, I know
that he more than suspected he was indebted to his good-looking footman for the
pretty baby girl my mother presented to him; as he says in one note, "that he
could have forgiven everything if the fruits of her intercourse with James had
been a son and heir, so as to keep his hated nephew out of the estates and
title, and wished her to let him cultivate her parsley bed for another crop,
which might perhaps turn out more in accordance with his wishes." The poor old
fellow died soon after writing that note, and my mother, from whom this dreadful
consumption is transmitted to me, also left me an orphan at an early age,
leaving me her jointure of £20,000, and an aristocratic title which that amount
was quite inadequate to properly support.
My guardians were very saving and
careful, as they sent me to school at eight years of age, and only spent about
£150 a year for schooling and necessaries, till they thought it was time for me
to be brought out in the world, so that I benefitted considerably by the
accumulated interest of my money.
The first four years of my school passed
away uneventfully, and during that time I was only in one serious scrape, which
1 will relate, as it led to my first taste of a good birch rod.
Miss Birch was rather an indulgent
schoolmistress, and only had to resort to personal punishment for very serious
offenses, which she considered might materially affect the future character of
her pupils, unless thoroughly cut out of them from the first. I was nearly seven
years old when I had a sudden fancy for making sketches on my slate in school.
One of our governesses, Miss Pennington, was a rather crabbed and severe old
girl of five-and-thirty, and particularly evoked my abilities as a caricaturist,
and the sketches would be slyly passed from one to the other of us, causing
considerable giggling and gross inattention to our lessons. I was infatuated and
conceited with what 1 considered my clever drawings and several
admonitions
and extra tasks as punishment had no
effect in checking my mischievous interruptions, until one afternoon Miss
Birch had fallen asleep at her desk, and old Penn was busy with a class, when
the sudden inspiration seized me to make a couple of very rude sketches; one of
the old girl sitting on a chamber utensil; but the other was a rural idea of her
stooping down, with her clothes up to ease herself, in a field. The first girl I
showed them to almost burst with laughter, and two others were so anxious to see
the cause of her mirth, that they were actually stooping over her shoulder to
look at my slate, when, before I could possibly get to it to rub them off, old
Penn pounced upon it like an eagle, and carried it in triumph to Miss Birch, who
was awakened chagrined by the amused smile which our principal could not repress
at first sight of the indecent caricatures.
"My young lady must smart for this, Miss
Pennington," said Miss Birch, with suddenly assumed gravity; "she has been very
troublesome lately with these impudent drawings, but this is positively obscene;
if she draws one thing she will go to another. Send for Susan to bring my birch
rod! I must punish her whilst my blood is warm, as I am too forgiving, and may
let her off."
I threw myself on my knees, and implored
for mercy, promising "Never, never to do anything of the kind
again."
Miss BIRCH.—"You should have thought of
the consequences before you drew such filthy pictures; the very idea of one of
my young ladies being capable of such productions is horrible to me; these
prurient ideas cannot be allowed to settle in your mind for an instant, if I can
whip them out."
Miss Pennnington, with a grim look of
satisfaction, now took me by the wrist, just as Susan, a stout, strong, fair
servant girl of about twenty, appeared with what looked to me a fearful big
bunch of birch twigs, neatly tied up with red velvet ribbon.
"Now, Lady Beatrice Pokingham," said Miss
Birch, "kneel down, confess your fault, and kiss the rod," taking the bunch from
Susan's hands, and extending it to me as a queen might her sceptre to a
supplicant subject.
Anxious to get over the inevitable, and
make my punishment as light as possible, I knelt down, and with real tears of
penitence begged her to be as lenient as her sense of justice would admit, as I
knew I well deserved what she was going
to inflict, and would take care not to
insult Miss Pennington again, whom I was very sorry to have so caricatured; then
I kissed the rod and resigned myself to my fate.
Miss PENNINGTON, maliciously.—"Ah! Miss
Birch, how quickly the sight of the rod makes hypocritical
repentance."
Miss BIRCH.—"I quite understand all that,
Miss Pennington, but must temper justice with mercy at the proper time; now, you
impudent artist, lift your clothes behind, and expose your own bottom to the
justly merited punishment."
With trembling hands I lifted my skirts,
and was then ordered to open my drawers also; which done, they pinned up my
dress and petticoats as high as my shoulders; then I was laid across a desk, and
Susan stood in front of me, holding both hands, whilst old Penn and the French
governess (who had just entered the schoolroom) each held one of my legs, so
that I was what you might call helplessly spread-eagled.
Miss BIRCH, looking seriously round as
she flourished the rod.—"Now, all you young ladies, let this whipping be a
caution to you; my Lady Beatrice richly deserves this degrading shame, for her
indecent (I ought to call them obscure) sketches. Will you! will you, you
troublesome, impudent little thing, ever do so again? There, there, there, I
hope it will soon do you good. Ah! you may scream; there's a few more to come
yet."
The bunch of birch seemed to crash on my
bare bottom with awful force; the tender skin smarted, and seemed ready to burst
at every fresh cut. "Ah! ah! oh!!! Oh, heavens! have mercy, madame. Oh! I will
never do anything like it again. Ah—r—re! I can't bear it!" I screamed, kicking
and struggling under every blow, so that at first they could scarcely hold me,
but I was soon exhausted by my own efforts.
Miss BIRCH,—"You can feel it a little,
may it do you good, you bad little girl; if I don't check you now, the whole
establishment would soon be demoralized. Ah! ha! your bottom is getting finely
wealed, but I haven't done yet," cutting away with increasing
fury.
Just then I caught a glimpse of her face,
which was usually pale, but now flushed with excitement, and her eyes sparkled
with unwonted animation. "Ah!" she continued, "young ladies beware of my rod,
when I do have to use it. How do you like it, Lady Beatrice? Let us all know how
nice it is," cutting my bottom and thighs deliberately at each
ejaculation.
LADY BEATRICE.—"Ah! oh! ah—r—r—re! It's
awful! Oh I shall die if you don't have mercy, Miss Birch. Oh! my God, I'm
fearfully punished; I'm cut to pieces; the birch feels as if it was red hot, the
blows burn so!"
Then I felt as if it was all over, and I
must die soon; my cries were succeeded by low sobs, moans, and then hysterical
crying, which gradually got lower and lower, till at last I must have fainted,
as I remembered nothing more till I found myself in bed, and awoke with my poor
posteriors tremendously bruised and sore, and it was nearly a fortnight before I
got rid of all the marks of that severe whipping.
After I was twelve years of age they
reckoned me amongst the big girls, and I got a jolly bedfellow, whom I will call
Alice Marchmont, a beautiful, fair girl, with a plump figure, large sensuous
eyes, and flesh as firm and smooth as ivory. She seemed to take a great fancy to
me, and the second night I slept with her (we had a small room to ourselves) she
kissed and hugged me so lovingly that I felt slightly confused at first, as she
took such liberties with me, my heart was all in a flutter, and although the
light was out, I felt my face covered with burning blushes as her hot kisses on
my lips, and the searching gropings of her hands in the most private parts of my
person, made me all atremble.
"How you shake, dear Beatrice," she
answered. "What are you afraid of? you may feel me all over too; it is so nice.
Put your tongue in my mouth, it is a great inducement to love and I do want to
love you so, dear. Where's your hand? here, put it there; can't you feel the
hair just beginning to grow on my pussey? Yours will come soon. Rub your finger
on my crack, just there," so she initiated me into the art of frigging in the
most tender loving manner.
As you may guess, I was an apt pupil,
although so young. Her touches fired my blood, and the way she sucked my tongue
seemed most delicious. "Ah! Oh! Rub harder, harder —quicker," she gasped, as she
stiffened her limbs out with a kind of spasmodic shudder, and I felt my finger
all wet with something warm and creamy. She covered me with kisses for a moment,
and then lay quite still.
"What is it, Alice? How funny you are,
and you have wetted my finger, you nasty girl," I whispered, laughing. "Go on
tickling me with your fingers, I begin rather to like it."
"So you will, dear, soon, and love me for
teaching you such
a nice game," she replied, renewing her
frigging operations, which gave me great pleasure so that I hardly knew what I
was doing, and a most luscious longing sensation came over me. I begged her to
shove her fingers right up. "Oh! Oh! How nice! Further! Harder!" and almost
fainted with delight as she at last brought down my first maiden
spend.
Next night we repeated our lascivious
amusements, and she produced a thing like a sausage, made of soft kid leather,
and stuffed out as hard as possible, which she asked me to push into her, and
work up and down, whilst she frigged me as before, making me lay on the top of
her, with my tongue in her mouth. It was delightful. I can't express her
raptures, my movements with the instrument seemed to drive her into ecstasies of
pleasure, she almost screamed as she clasped my body to hers, exclaiming, "Ah!
Oh! You dear boy; you kill me with pleasure!" as she spent with extraordinary
profusion all over my busy hand.
As soon as we had recovered our serenity
a little, I asked her what she meant by calling me her dear boy.
"Ah! Beatrice," she replied, "I'm so
sleepy now, but tomorrow night, I will tell you my story, and explain how it is
that my pussey is able to take in that thing, whilst yours cannot at present; it
will enlighten you a little more into the Philosophy of Life, my dear; now give
me a kiss, and let us go to sleep to-night."
ALICE MARCHMONT'S STORY.
You may imagine I was anxious for the
next morning to arrive. We were no sooner in our little sanctum, than I
exclaimed, "Now, Alice, make haste into bed, I'm all impatient to hear your
tale."
"You shall have it dear and my fingers,
too, if you will but let me undress comfortably. I can't jump into bed anyhow; I
must make the inspection of my little private curls first. What do you think of
them, Beatrice? Off with your chemise; I want to compare our pusseys," said she,
throwing off everything, and surveying her beautiful naked figure in the large
cheval glass. I was soon beside her, equally denuded of covering. "What a
delightfully pouting little slit you have, Beatrice," she exclaimed, patting my
Mons Veneris. "We shall make a beautiful contrast, mine is a light blonde, and
yours will be brunette. See my little curly parsley bed is
already
half-an-inch long." She indulged in no
end of exciting tricks, till at last my patience was exhausted, so slipping on
my chemise de nuit, I bounced into bed, saying I believed it was all
fudge about her having a tale to tell and that I would not let her love me
again, till she had satisfied my curiosity.
"What bad manners to doubt my word," she
cried, following me into bed, taking me by surprise, uncovered my bottom, and
inflicted a smart little slapping, as she laughingly continued, "There, let that
be a lesson to you not to doubt a young lady's word in future. Now you shall
have my tale, although it would really serve you right to make you wait till
to-morrow."
After a short pause, having settled
ourselves lovingly in bed, she began:
Once upon a time there was a little girl
about ten years old, of the name of Alice, her parents were rich, and lived in a
beautiful house, surrounded by lovely gardens and a fine park, she had a brother
about two years older than herself, but her mama was so fond of her (being an
only daughter), that she never would allow her little girl out of her sight,
unless William, the butler, had charge of her in her rambles about the grounds
and park,
William was a handsome, good-looking man
about thirty, and had been in the family ever since he was a boy. Now Alice, who
was very fond of William, often sat on his knee as he was seated under a tree,
or on a garden seat, when he would read to her fairy tales from her books. Their
intimacy was so great that when they were alone, she would call him "dear old
Willie," and treat him quite as an equal. Alice was quite an inquisitive girl,
and would often put Mr. William to the blush by her curious enquiries about
natural history affairs, and how animals had little ones, why the cock was so
savage to the poor hens, jumping on their backs, and biting their heads with his
sharp beak, &c. "My dear," he would say, "I'm not a hen or a cow; how should
I know? don't ask such silly questions"; but Miss Alice was not so easily put
off, she would reply, "Ah! Willie, you do know, and won't tell me, I insist upon
knowing, &c.," but her efforts to obtain knowledge were quite
fruitless.
This went on for some time till the
little girl was within three or four months of her twelfth birthday, when a
circumstance she had never taken any notice of before aroused her
curiosity. It was that Mr. William, under
pretense of seeing to his duties, was in the habit of secluding himself in his
pantry, or closet, from seven to eight o'clock in the morning for about an hour
before breakfast. If Alice ventured to tap at the door it was fastened inside,
and admittance refused; the keyhole was so closed it was useless to try and look
through that way, but it occurred to my little girl that perhaps she might be
able to get a peep into that place of mystery if she could only get into a
passage which passed behind Mr. William's pantry, and into which she knew it
used to open by a half-glass door, now never used, as the passage was closed by
a locked door at each end. This passage was lighted from the outside by a small
window about four feet from the ground, fastened on the inside simply by a hook,
which Alice, who mounted on a high stool, soon found she could open if she broke
one of the small diamond panes of glass, which she did, and then waiting till
the next morning felt sure she would be able to find out what Willie was always
so busy about, and also that she could get in and out of the window unobserved
by anyone, as it was quite screened from view by a thick shrubbery seldom
entered by anyone.
Up betimes next day she told her
lady's-maid she was going to enjoy the fresh air in the garden before breakfast,
and then hurried off to her place of observation, and scrambled through the
window regardless of dirt and dust, took off her boots as soon as she alighted
in the disused passage, and silently crept up to the glass door, but to her
chagrin found the panes so dirty as to be impervious to sight; however, she was
so far lucky as to find a fine large keyhole quite clear, and two or three
cracks in the woodwork, so that she could see nearly every part of the place,
which was full of light from a skylight overhead. Mr. William was not there, but
soon made his appearance, bringing a great basket of plate, which had been used
the previous day, and for a few minutes was really busy looking in his pantry
book, and counting spoons, forks, &c., but was soon finished, and began to
look at a little book, which he took from a drawer. Just then, Lucy, one of the
prettiest housemaids, a dark beauty of about eighteen, entered the room without
ceremony, saying, "Here's some of your plate off the sideboard. Where's your
eyes, Mr. William, not to gather up all as you ought to do?" William's eyes
seemed to beam with delight as he caught her
round the waist, and gave her a luscious
kiss on her cheek, saying: "Why, I keep them for you, dear, I knew you would
bring the plate"; then showing the book, "What do you think of that position,
dear? How would you like it so?" Although pleased, the girl blushed up to the
roots of her hair as she looked at the picture. The book dropped to the floor,
and William pulled her on to his knee, and tried to put his hand up her clothes.
"Ah! No! No!" she cried, in a low voice; "you know I can't to-day, but perhaps I
can tomorrow; you must be good to-day, sir. Don't stick up your impudent head
like that. There—there—there's a squeeze for you; now I must be off," she said,
putting her hand down into his lap, where it could not be seen what she was
after. In a second or two she jumped up, and in spite of his efforts to detain
her, escaped from the pantry. William, evidently in a great state of excitement,
subsided on to a sofa, muttering, "The little witch, what a devil she is; I
can't help myself, but she will be all right to-morrow." Alice, who was intently
observing everything, was shocked and surprised to see his trousers all
unbuttoned in front, and a great long fleshy-looking thing sticking out,
seemingly hard and stiff, with a ruby-coloured head. Mr, William took hold of it
with one hand, apparently for the purpose of placing it in his breeches, but he
seemed to hesitate, and closing his right hand upon the shaft, rubbed it up and
down. "Ah! What a fool I am to let her excite me so. Oh! Oh! I can't help it; I
must." He seemed to sigh as his hand increased its rapid motion. His face
flushed, and his eyes seemed ready to start from his head, and in a few moments
something spurted from his instrument, the drops falling over his hands and
legs, some even a yard or two over the floor. This seemed to finish his ecstasy.
He sank back quite listless for a few minutes, and then rousing himself, wiped
his hands on a towel, cleared up every drop of the mess, and left the pantry.
Alice was all over in a burning heat from what she had seen but instinctively
felt that the mystery was only half unravelled, and promised herself to be there
and see what William and Lucy would do next day. Mr. William took her for a walk
as usual, and read to her, whilst she sat on his knee, and Alice wondered what
could have become of that great stiff thing which she had seen in the morning.
With the utmost apparent innocence, her hands touched him casu-
ally, where she hoped to feel the
monster, but only resulted in feeling a rather soft kind of bunch in his
pocket.
Another morning arrived to find Alice at
her post behind the disused glass door, and she soon saw Mr. William bring in
his plate, but he put it aside, and seemed all impatient for Lucy's arrival.
"Ah!" he murmurs. "I'm as stiff as a rolling pin at the very thought of the
saucy darling," but his ideas were cut short by the appearance of Lucy herself,
who care-fully bolted the door inside. Then rushing into his arms, she covered
him with kisses, exclaiming, in a low voice, "Ah! How I have longed for him
these three or four days. What a shame women should be stopped in that way from
enjoying themselves once a month. How is he this morning?" as her hands
nervously unbuttoned Mr. William's trousers, and grasped his ready
truncheon.
"What a hurry you are in, Lucy!" gasped
her lover, as she almost stifled him with her kisses. "Don't spoil it all by
your impatience; I must have my kiss first."
With a gentle effort he reclined her
backwards on a sofa, and raised her clothes till Alice had a full view of a
splendid pair of plump, white legs; but what rivetted her gaze most was the
luscious looking, pouting lips of Lucy's cunny, quite vermilion in colour, and
slightly gaping open, in a most inviting manner, as her legs were wide apart;
her Mons Veneris being covered with a profusion of beautiful curly black
hair.
The butler was down on his knees in a
moment, and glued his lips to her crack, sucking and kissing furiously, to the
infinite delight of the girl, who sighed and wriggled with pleasure; till at
last Mr. William could no longer restrain himself, but getting up upon his knees
between Lucy's legs, he brought his shaft to the charge, and to Alice's
astonishment, fairly ran it right into the gaping crack, till it was all lost in
her belly; they laid still for a few moments, enjoying the conjunction of their
persons till Lucy heaved up her bottom, and the butler responded to it by a
shove, then they commenced a most exciting struggle. Alice could see the manly
shaft as it worked in and out of her sheath, glistening with lubricity, whilst
the lips of her cunny seemed to cling to it each time of withdrawal, as if
afraid of losing such a delightful sugar stick; but this did not last long,
their movements got more and more furious, till at last both seemed to meet in a
spasmodic embrace, as they almost fainted in each
other's arms, and Alice could see a
profusion of creamy moisture oozing from the crack of Lucy, as they both lay in
a kind of lethargy of enjoyment after their battle of love.
Mr. William was the first to break the
silence: "Lucy, will you look in to-morrow, dear; you know that old spy, Mary,
will be back from her holiday in a day or two, and then we shan't often have a
chance."
LUCY,—"Ah; you rogue, I mean to have a
little more now, I don't care if we're caught; I must have it," she said,
squeezing him with her arms and gluing her lips to his, as she threw her
beautiful legs right over his buttocks, and commenced the engagement once more
by rapidly heaving her bottom; in fact, although he was a fine man, the weight
of his body seemed as nothing in her amorous excitement.
The butler's excuses and pleading of
fear, in case he was missed, &c., were all of no avail; she fairly drove him
on, and he was soon as furiously excited as herself, and with a profusion of
sighs, expressions of pleasure, endearment, &c., they soon died away again
into a state of short voluptuous oblivion. However, Mr. William was too nervous
and afraid to let her lay long; he withdrew his instrument from her foaming
cunny, just as it was all slimy and glistening with the mingled juices of their
love; but what a contrast to its former state, as Alice now beheld it much
reduced in size, and already drooping its fiery head.
Lucy jumped up and let down her clothes,
but kneeling on the floor before her lover, she took hold of his limp affair,
and gave it a most luscious sucking, to the great delight of Mr. William, whose
face flushed again with pleasure, and as soon as Lucy had done with her sucking
kiss, Alice saw that his instrument was again stiff and ready for a renewal of
their joys.
LUCY, laughing in a low tone.—"There, my
boy, I'll leave you like that; think of me till to-morrow; I couldn't help
giving the darling a good suck after the exquisite pleasure he had afforded me,
it's like being in heaven for a little while."
With a last kiss on the lips as they
parted, and Mr. William again locked his door, whilst Alice made good her
retreat to prepare herself for breakfast.
It was a fine warm morning in May, and
soon after breakfast Alice, with William for her guardian, set off for a ramble
in the park, her blood was in a boil, and she longed to experi-
ence the joys she was sure Lucy had been
surfeited with; they sauntered down to the lake, and she asked William to give
her a row in the boat; he unlocked the boat-house, and handed her into a nice,
broad, comfortable skiff, well furnished with soft seats and
cushions.
"How nice to be here, in the shade," said
Alice; "come into the boat, Willie, we will sit in it a little while, and you
shall read to me before we have a row."
"Just as you please, Miss Alice," he
replied, with unwonted deference, stepping into the boat, and sitting down in
the stern sheets.
"Ah my head aches a little, let me
recline it in your lap," said Alice, throwing off her hat, and stretching
herself along on a cushion. "Why are you so precise this morning, Willie? You
know I don't like to be called Miss, you can keep that for Lucy." Then noticing
his confusion, "You may blush, sir, I could make you sink into your shoes if you
only knew all I have seen between you and Miss Lucy."
Alice reclined her head in a languid
manner on his lap, looking up and enjoying the confusion she had thrown him
into; then designedly resting one hand on the lump which he seemed to have in
his pocket, as if to support herself a little, she continued: "Do you think,
Willie, I shall ever have as fine legs as Lucy? Don't you think I ought soon to
have long dresses, sir! I'm getting quite bashful about showing my calves so
much," The butler had hard work to recover his composure, the vivid recollection
of the luscious episode with Lucy before breakfast was so fresh in his mind that
Alice's allusions to her, and the soft girlish hand resting on his privates
(even although he thought her as innocent as a lamb) raised an utter of desire
in his feverish blood, which he tried to allay as much as possible, but little
by little the unruly member began to swell, till he was sure she must feel it
throb under her hand. With an effort he slightly shifted himself, so as to
remove her hand lower down on to the thigh, as he answered as gravely as
possible (feeling assured Alice could know nothing): "You're making game of me
this morning. Don't you wish me to read, Alice?"
ALICE, excitedly, with an unusual flush
on her face.—"You naughty man, you shall tell me what I
want to know this Time: How do babies come? What is the
parsley bed, the nurses and doctors say they come out of?
Is it not a curly lot
of hair at the bottom of the woman's
belly? I know that's what Lucy's got, and I've seen you kiss it,
sir!"
(To be continued.)
A PROLOGUE.
Spoke by Miss Bella de Lancy, on her
retiring from the Stage to open a Fashionable Bawdy
House.
(Written by S. Johnson,
LL.D.)
When cunt first triumphed (as the learned
suppose)
O'er failing pricks, Immortal Dildo
rose,
From fucks unnumbered, still erect he
drew,
Exhausted cunts, and then demanded
new;
Dame Nature saw him spurn her bounded
reign,
And panting pricks toiled after him in
vain;
The laxest folds, the deepest depths he
filled;
The juiciest drained; the toughest hymens
drilled.
The fair lay gasping with distended
limbs,
And unremitting cockstands stormed their
quims.
Then Frigging came, instructed from the
school,
And scorned the aid of India-rubber
tool.
With restless finger, fired the dormant
blood,
Till Clitoris rose, sly, peeping thro'
her hood.
Gently was worked this titillating
art,
It broke no hymen, and scarce stretched
the part;
Yet lured its votaries to a sudden
doom,
And stamped Consumption's flush on
Beauty's bloom.
Sweet Gamahuche found softer ways to
fame,
It asked not Dildo's art, nor Frigging's
flame.
Tongue, not prick, now probes the central
hole,
And mouth, not cunt, becomes prick's
destined goal.
It always found a sympathetic
friend;
And pleased limp pricks, and those who
could not spend,
No tedious wait, for laboured stand,
delays
The hot and pouting cunt, which tongue
allays.
The taste was luscious, tho' the smell
was strong;
The fuck was easy, and would last so
long;
Til wearied tongues found gamahuching
cloy,
And pricks, and cunts, grew callous to
the joy.
Then dulled by frigging, by mock pricks
enlarged,
Her noble duties Cunt but ill
discharged.
Her nymphæ drooped, her devil's bite grew
weak,
And twice two pricks might flounder in
her creek;
Till all the edge was taken off the
bliss,
And Cunt's sole occupation was to
piss.
Forced from her former joys, with scoft
and brunt,
She saw great Arsehole lay the ghost
Cunt
Exulting buggers hailed the joyful
day,
And piles and hœmerrids confirmed his
sway.
But who lust's future fancies can
explore,
And mark the whimsies that remain in
store?
Perhaps it shall be deemed a lover's
treat,
To suck the flowering quims of mares in
heat;
Perhaps, where beauty held unequalled
sway,
A Cochin fowl shall rival Mabel
Grey;
Nobles be rained by the Hyaena's
smile,
And Seals get short engagements from th'
Argyle.
Hard is her lot, that here by Fortune
placed,
Must watch the wild vicissitudes of
taste;
Catch every whim, learn every bawdy
trick,
And chase the new born bubbles of the
prick;
Ah, let not Censure term our fate, our
choice,
The Bawd but echoes back the public
voice;
The Brothers laws, the Brothel's patrons
give,
And those that live to please, must
please to live;
Then purge these growing follies from
your hearts,
And turn to female arms, and female
arts;
'Tis yours this night, to bid the reign
begin,
Of all the good old-fashioned ways to
sin;
Clean, wholesome girls, with lip, tongue,
cunt, and hand,
Shall raise, keep up, put in, take down a
stand;
Your bottoms shall by lily hands be
bled,
And birches blossom under every
bed.
THE ORIGIN SPECIES.
Air.—"Deny
Down."
When Adam and Eve were first put into
Eden,
They never once thought of that pleasant
thing—breeding
Though they had not a rag to cover their
front,
Adam sported his prick, and Eve sported
her cunt.
Deny down.
Adam's prick was so thick and so
long—such a teaser; Eve's cunt was so hairy and fat—such a breezer; Adam's thing
was just formed any maiden to please, And his bollocks hung down very near to
his knees.
Deny down.
Eve played with his balls, and thought it
no harm:
He fingered her quim and ne'er felt alarm;
He tickled her bubbies, she
rubbed up his yard,
And yet for a fuck, why they felt no regard.
Derry down.
But when Mrs. Eve did taste of the fruit,
It was then that her eyes first beheld Adam's root;
Then he ate an apple, and
after he had done't,
Why then he first found out the value of
cunt.
Derry down.
Then they say they made fig leaves,
that's fiddle-de-dee.
He wanted a quim, and quite ready was she;
They gazed on
their privates with mutual delight,
And she soon found a hole to put jock out
of sight!
Derry down.
Then Adam soon laid Mrs. Eve on the
grass,
He pop't in his prick, she heaved up her
arse;
He wriggled, she wiggled, they both stuck
to one tether
And she tickled his balls, till they both
came together!
Derry down.
Since then, all her children are filled
with desire, And the women a stiff-standing prick all require!
And no son of Adam will e'er take
affront,
For where is the man that can live
without cunt.
Derry down.
THE WANTON LASS.
Air.—"Derry Down."
There was a lass they called bonny Bet,
With a jolly fat arse, and a cunt black as jet;
Her quim had long itched, and
she wanted, I vow,
A jolly good fucking, but couldn't tell how.
Derry down.
She thought of a plan that might serve as
the same,
That herself she might shag without any
shame;
So a carrot she got, with a point rather
blunt,
And she ramm'd it and jamm'd it three
parts up her cunt.
Derry down.
She liked it so well that she oft used to
do it,
Till at length the poor girl had occasion to rue it;
For one day, when
amusing herself with this whim,
The carrot it snapped, and part stuck in her quim.
Derry down.
She went almost mad with vexation at
this,
Indeed it was time, the poor girl couldn't piss.
The lass was in torture,
no rest had poor Bet,
So at last an old doctor she was forced to
get.
Derry down.
The doctor he came, and she told him the
case,
Then with spectacles on, and a very long face,
He bid her turn up, though
she scarcely was able,
And pull up her petticoats over her navel.
Derry down.
Her clouts she held up, round her belly
so plump,
And he gave her fat arse such a hell of a thump,
That he made her cry
out, tho' he did it so neat,
And away flew the carrot bang into the
street.
Deny down.
Now a sweep passing by, he saw it come
down,
Picked it up and he ate it, and said with a frown,
By God! it's not right,
it's a damned shame, I say,
That people should throw buttered carrots
away.
Deny down.
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.
A Parody on
Moore's Melody.
There is not in this wide world a valley
so sweet,
As that vale where the thighs of a pretty girl meet:
Oh, the last ray
of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my
heart.
Yet it is not that Nature has shed o'er
the scene,
The purest of red, the most delicate skin,
'Tis not the sweet smell
of the genial hill;
Ah, no! it is something more exquisite still.
'Tis because the last favours of woman
are there,
Which make every part of her body more
dear.
We feel how the charms of Nature
improve,
When we bathe in the spendings of her
whom we love.
LOVE.
Nature, everywhere the same,
Imparts to
man a lustful flame;
In Russian snow or Indian fire, All men
alike indulge desire, All alike, feel passion's heat, All alike, enjoyment
greet, So that wheresoe'er you go, Still the same voluptuous glow Throbs through
every purple vein, Thirsts enjoyment to obtain; 'Mongst the dark, or with the
fair, Woman is empress everywhere.
THE PLEASURES OF LOVE.
Pressed in the arms of him I so adored,
The keeper of my charms, my pride, my lord! By day experiencing each sweet
delight, And meeting endless transports every night When on our downy bed we
fondly lay, Heating each other by our am'rous play; Till Nature, yielding to the
luscious game, Would fierce desire and quenchless lust inflame! Oh! then we
join'd in love's most warm embrace, And pressed soft kisses on our every grace!
Around my form his pliant limbs entwined, Love's seat of bliss to him I then
resigned! We pant, we throb, we both convulsive start! Heavens! then what
passions thro' our fibres dart! We heave, we wriggle, bite, laugh, tremble,
sigh! We taste Elysian bliss—we fondle—die.
THE RIVAL TOASTS.
An English and an American vessel of war
being in port together, Captain Balls, of the former, invited the officers
of
the Yankee frigate to dine in board of
his ship, but stipulated, in order to avoid any unpleasantness, that no
offensive or personal toasts should be proposed, to which the Americans
cheerfully assented. However, after dinner, during dessert, when the
conversation happened to turn warmly upon the respective merits of the two
nations, a Yankee officer suddenly stood up, and said he wished to propose a
toast, which he should take as a personal offense if anyone refused to drink
it.
Captain B. mildly expressed a hope that
it was nothing offensive, but consented to drink to whatever it might be, with
the proviso that, if he thought fit to do so, he should propose another
afterwards.
Then shouted the American, exultingly:
"Here's to the glorious American flag: Stars to enlighten all nations, and
Stripes to flog them."
Captain B. drained a bumper to the
American's toast; then turning to the old ship's steward, standing behind his
chair, said quietly: "You can beat that, can't you, Jack?"
"Ay! Aye! Sir! If you fill me a
stiff'un."
The Captain mixed him a good swig of hot
and strong. Then handing the steward the glass, he thundered out: "Silence for
Jack's toast, and any gentleman here present, refusing to drink to it, I shall
not take it as a personal offense, but at once order the gunner's mate to give
him three dozen. Now then, Jack."
Jack, with a grim smile, and bowing to
the Yankee officer, said: "Then here's to the ramping, roaring British Lion, who
on the stars, and wipes his arse on the stripes."
NURSERY RHYMES.
There was a young man of
Bombay,
Who fashioned a cunt out of clay;
But the
heat of his prick
Turned it into a brick,
And chafed all his foreskin
away.
There was a young man of Peru,
Who had
nothing whatever to do;
So he took out his carrot
And buggered his parrot,
And sent the
result to the Zoo.
There was a young girl of Ostend,
Who her
maidenhead tried to defend,
But a Chasseur d'Afrique
Inserted his prick,
And taught
that ex-maid how to spend.
There was a young man of Calcutta,
Who
tried to write "Cunt" on a shutter.
When he got to C-U,
A pious Hindoo Knocked him arse over head
in the gutter.
There was a young man of
Ostend,
Whose wife caught him fucking her
friend;
"It's no use, my duck,
Interrupting our fuck,
For I'm damned if
I draw till I spend."
There was a young man of Wood Green, Who
tried to fart "God Save the Queen."
When he reached the
soprano,
He shot his guano,
And his breeches
weren't fit to be seen.
There was a young man of Dundee,
Who one
night went out on the spree;
He wound up his clock
With the tip of his cock,
And buggered
himself with the key.
There was a young lady of Troy,
Who
invented a new kind of joy:
She sugared her thing
Both outside and in,
And then had it
sucked by a boy.
There was a young man of Santander,
Who
tried hard to bugger a gander;
But the virtuous bird
Plugged his arse with a turd,
And refused
to such low tastes to pander.
There was a young lady of
Hitchin,
Who was skrotching her cunt in the
kitchen;
Her father said "Rose,
It's the crabs, I suppose."
"You're right, pa, the buggers are itching."
There was an old person of Sark,
Who buggered a pig in the dark;
The swine, in surprise,
Murmured "God blast your eyes,
Do you
take me for Boulton or Park?"
AMEN.
Oh! cunt is a kingdom, and prick is its
lord;
A whore is a slave, and her mistress a
bawd;
Her quim is her freehold, which brings in
her rent;
Where you pay when you enter, and leave
when you've spent.
