MY SECRET LIFE
wonder to me now is, that I did not frig myself incessantly; and can only acount for it on the grounds, that though my imagination was very ripe, my body was not. The fact of hair under the arms of women had a secret charm for me about that time. I don’t recollect thinking much about it before, though it had astonished me when I first saw it; and why it came to my imagination so much now, do not know, but it did. I have told of the woman under whose arms I first saw hair.
One afternoon after my father’s death, and that of my godfather, Fred was with me, we went to the house of a friend, and were to return home about nine o’clock. It was dark, we saw a woman standing by a wall. “She is a whore,” said Fred, “and will let us feel her if we pay her.” “You go and ask her.” “No, you.” “I don’t like to.” “How much money have you got?” We ascertained what we had, and after a little hesitation, walked on, passed her, then turned round and stopped. “What are you staring at, kiddy,” said the woman. I was timid, and walked away, Fred stopped with her. “Wattie, come here,” said he in a half whisper. I walked back. “How much have you got?” the woman said. We both gave her money. “You’ll let us both feel?” said Fred. “Why of course, have you felt a woman before?” Both of us said we had, feeling bolder. “Was it a woman about here?” “No.” “Did you both feel the same woman?” “No.” Give me another shilling then, you shall both feel my cunt well, I've such a lot of hair on it.” We gave what he had, and then she walked off without letting us. “I’ll tell your mothers, if you come after me,” she cried out.
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