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 V
I could scarcely sleep that night. Pender seemed to me the most delicious woman I had ever poked. What if excitement had brought back the clap! what if I had clapped her! I had never after the clap had a woman until the doctor said I might. When I awakened, to my joy my prick was as dry as a bone; a woman was what I had wanted to complete my cure. The next minute my prick was stiff as I thought of Pender’s charms.
It was a lovely morning, every available hand in house and farm was sent off to scatter the hay which on the previous night had been heaped up, Mrs. Pender excepted, whose dairy duty kept her at the farm. I caught her in the cow-house to her astonishment, for k could not have been more than six A.M. To rush up to her, and kiss her was instantaneous. She repulsed my wandering hands. “Oh I sir, don’t now, — no never, never again (married women always say that), Missus will be coming, no never, — I’m a married woman, — now pray, — you shant.” I got her back up against a wall, my hand on her fringe, my mouth pressed to hers; how was it possible to resist? At ten paces was the stable, and the friendly hay. What a ballocking I gave her, with the summer sun shining through a window on to us, as we lay together in the early morning.
She sat down to milking with her cunt full of me. “They be all up at the hay”, said she, “but Missus comes every fine morning to the dairy (that was true), she won’t be here for an hour; but if she were, what would I do? my husband will be back, he’ll take break-fast to the fields, to save time, in chance of wet again coming on. Oh! do go.” There was certainly all those chances. Off I went across the rick-yard, round the belt of trees which skirted the house and gardens, so that I seemed to enter from the opposite side to that where Pender sat milking.
“Is my aunt up?” “No sir, she won’t be down till seven o’clock when she goes to the dairy.” I took a book, sat down till the servant disappeared, then running by the path soon to be described, was in two minutes in the farm-yard. Pender was in the dairy, resistance was vain, and with her back up against the dairy wall we fucked. I cut back to the house, and sat outside reading. Soon after aunt appeared.
Said she, “What is the matter, that you are up so early?” (I usually was asleep at that hour.) “I could not sleep, dear aunt.” “It would do you good if you always got up early, come with me to the dairy.” In five minutes aunt and I were there. Lord, how Pender looked when she saw us together!
Aunt took pleasure in her farm. Every morning if well she walked down to it, saw how many eggs had been laid, and if butter-making, etc., went on rightly. Pender attended, whilst aunt with spectacles on was looking at the cream-pans, and asking questions, I looking as if deeply interested in the matter, was pinching Pender’s bum as she stood besides my aunt. “How hot you are Pender”, said my aunt looking at the woman. “It is hot ma’am”, she replied, perspiration streaming down her face. How very uncomfortable she looked.
At breakfast aunt said, “What do you think Walter has been to the dairy with me.” “Lor’!” said my lady cousins, “that is wonderful; he to get up so early!” “Have you had that dairy-maid long, aunt?” “Why don’t you recollect she was housemaid here once?” “No.” Then aunt told the history, which till then I did not know.
At the time of my unsuccessful attempt at a feel, she was engaged to a young man; they quarrelled, he left the village to go for a soldier, came back; again a quarrel, and again off he went. After a time he wrote to say, he meant to marry another girl. Pender was in great grief. Just then a head-man on the estate, about fifty-five years old, offered her marriage, and in a reckless state of mind, she accepted him. Directly afterwards her sweetheart came back, his statement was a false-hood, told to try her. It was too late, and he went to America. “She is a very nice, steady woman”, said aunt, “they lead a quiet life, but I don’t think she is very happy, twenty-three and fifty-five are not a good match.”
Food was sent to some of the farm-laborers at a meadow half-a-mile off. I had the pleasure of seeing my cousins, aunt, and two of the female servants in big straw hats, go off to the field. They thought hay-making good fun. I promised to join them, and directly they were out of sight cut off to Pender, dodged all round the rick-yard to see if I was alone, and found her tranquilly churning butter. The stable still ap- appeared the best place. Thither we went, and for the first time quietly, so to speak, I saw the article, and all its surroundings, which had given me several pleasures; and after fucking her I went to join my aunt, as I had promised her.
I had soon enough of hay-making myself, so laid down in the shade watching the hay-makers (nearly all women). As they moved along in rows, lewd thoughts occupied my mind. One biggish woman attracted my notice by her magnificent white teeth; looking at her short petticoats, and thick legs, lewdness increased to a cock-stand. I stared so as she approached me, that she could not fail to notice it. “It’s hot”, said I. “It be sir.” She stooped with her bum towards me, and lying down as I was, I saw nearly to her knees. “What would I give”, I thought, “to be close up to your bum-cheeks.” Dirty linen, dirty clothes, sweaty flesh, none of those objections occured to me. Then I moved farther up the field to get nearer, for working along the ridges, they had got away from my resting place, and again laid down reading a news-paper. I covered my lap with it, feeling my prick beneath it, then I pulled my prick out (what risk!), and just as she heading the file of women came towards me, and began turning round; I again spoke to her. She stopped, the others went on; I lifted the newspaper; there stood my prick, red-tipped as a berry. She looked at it, at me, and putting one hand up to her mouth as if to stop her laughter, turned and followed on the others with her work. Soon returning she was again facing me, I saw her white teeth as she smiled, and her eyes fixed on me; the other women turned round, she stopped for a moment, off went the news- paper, and she gazed at my doodle for a second or two again. She was further off then, and I saw her speaking to the woman just in front of her, who looked round; I thought she had told, and in a funk left the hay-field.
In the afternoon in the farm-yard, there were people about, and no chance of having Pender. My desire to have her was intense. After dinner I went to the farm, Pender had gone home, so I strolled into the lane which the farm-buildings abutted on.
Between the Hall and farm-yard was a shrubbery path; laurels, hollies and evergreens nearly met over head. It joined a belt of walk and plantation which skirted the lawns, gardens and a small paddock, and hid the farm-yard from the house. It took two or three minutes to walk from the farm to the house. The farm-yard on the other side opened on to a lovely village lane running between fields for a mile or so; on one side the land belonged to my aunt, the other to another proprietor. No one scarcely went along it but farm people. At one end were the two cottages in which I had fucked the two sisters years before; lower down past the farm-gates, were one or two other cottages in which lived farm-labourers, and in one of them the Pender’s. The lane then joined the high-road, which led by a half-a-mile to the front of my aunt’s house, and to the village. The farm-gates were always closed at dark. A great bell which when pulled set a dog barking was the way of getting in, after dark.
Leaving the wicket-gate ajar, I went down the lane, it was darkish, a fine summer night, but no moon. I knew where Pender lived, and by cunt attraction strolled in front of the cottage, though fearing to be seen.
As I left the farm-gate, female hay-makers who had worked till dark, passed, curtsying as they recognized me. I thought of Whiteteeth but saw her not. Turning back from Penders after I had strolled past the cottage, I went up the lane languishing with lust, and leaned against a field-gate. I heard a step, — it was the woman with white teeth.
“Good night.” “Good night sir.” “Come here.” She stopped, came close, I laid hold of her arm, and drew her close to the gate. “Come into the field with me, I will give you five shillings.”
A slight chuckle, the white teeth show. “I dare not.” But as she spoke I had got her back up against the gate, and my hand on her grummit.
“My old man will be waiting me, — I can’t.” Lifting her clothes I tried to impale her as she stood. “No, no, — some one will pass”, said she in a whisper. I put my hand on the latch, the gate opened, and we were in the field; the gate closed with a snap. I led her along by a ditch to a turn in the hedge; she made no resistance, in a minute we were buried in deep grass, my doodle buried in her cunt, we had spoken in whispers, all was silent excepting the insects which chirped in the hot summer’s night.
How delightful these chance pokes are; there was my prick which had not been washed since it had left Pender’s cunt, now wetting to its roots in the cunt of an unknown woman, — and I’d only just recovered from a clap. Not a word had we spoken from the moment we entered the field. We copulated in quietness. My prick did not uncunt, but I moved my arse out- wards, when with tightening grasps, a heave up, and a tightening of her cunt, she whispered, “Go on doing it.”
I could see the white teeth, but indistinctly, there was just sufficient light to see outlines, and anything white, but no colour. “I don’t think I can, I have been doing it all day”, I said.
“You’ve had one of the other women”, said she in a whisper, “if I’d knowed it, you should not have had me”, and with a jerk she uncunted me.
“No,” said I, “it’s a joke.” She raised herself slightly to look me in the face, but it was too dark. “I thought not”, said she; then she caught hold of my prick, fell on her back again, I saw indistinctly a broad expanse of thigh and belly. “Let’s feel, — let’s look.” Wide open were her legs in a minute, I felt a great, cool belly, strong, thick crisp hair, my fingers moved easily up the buttered love-trap, I could not see the opening.
“Hush!” said she, “there is a footstep.” Quiet on the grass we lay; tramp, tramp it came, past, and died away. “I wonder who it be”, said she.
She had kept hold of my prick, and soon our bellies met. When done she hurried me not out of her, seemed to like my indulgence, till she whispered, “I must go, keep here till you can’t hear my footsteps before you come out, we be near the yard, and if I be seen I don’t know what they will say.”
“My old man’s at the “Lion”, but I’ll go straight home.” “Perhaps he’ll have gone home.” “Not he,-they allus sticks at the Public late, when they works late.” And with her cunt reeking, off she went.
I followed, intending to walk round to the front of the Hall. Passing Pender’s house, to my astonishment she was standing at the door. I went up to her. “Oh!” said she, “Fender will be home, I expect him every minute.” She could hear his footsteps a mile off, but she would not let me into the house.
Opposite to Pender’s was also a field-gate, I persuaded her to come out and stand there with me; the hedge hid anyone coming along the lane. “At the first sound of a footstep”, said I, “I will go into the field, and you can cross to your house.” I was longing for the woman, but scarcely thought I could do it after my day’s fucking. The idea of putting my prick still wet with Whiteteeth’s juices, into Pender’s quim, stimulated me; my cock stood (in those days if it stood it was sure of doing duty). I closed up to her whispering love, and frigging her, she gradually getting be-sides herself with pleasure. At length up went my prick into her, and after a quarter of an hour’s lamming, finished.
Meeting her husband in the lane might have cause suspicion, so into the field I went, intending to wait till he passed, laid down, fell asleep, awaking when it was broad daylight. I then waited two hours, walked round to the Hall, waited in the front till the door was opened, then went up to my room, and to bed. The servant saw me go in, and I imagine thought I had been out in the grounds without her knowing it, — certainly it never was known that I had been out all night.
I went to bed to rumple it, then down to breakfast, all the time thinking of some lie as an excuse for being out all night. “You were tired, and went to bed early I expect”, said aunt. “Yes,” said I. My limbs were aching from exposure to night-air, as I spoke.
Three days had made a great change in me. My prolonged abstinence from women, and now my recovery, my taking more to animal food, wine, and my usual mode of living, the quiet life I was leading, all my physical forces at their highest. My cock stood from morning till night, not a woman passed me, young or old, without my desiring them. I thought of nothing else, and to this perhaps is due the variety of poking I got. Luck usually falls to those who look out for it.
I have said there was a shrubbery round the grounds connecting with that from the Hall to the farm; quite on the other side of the Hall were the stables, and the gardener’s house. None of the stablemen or gardeners were on the farm-side. The servants of the Hall slipped down to the farm to gossip, but it was not allowed. The only person who regularly traversed the shrubbery was Mrs. Pender, who twice a day took milk, and dairy produce to the Hall.
Half-way down this shrubbery-path was a path connecting with that which went quite round the grounds. Cunningly contrived, and leading out of it was one to a large privy, usual in such grounds as my aunt’s. A large octagonal house covered with ivy, with a door and two glass windows, a house devoted to shitting, but large enough to hold a dozen people.
One or two days after I had had Whiteteeth and Pender, I dodged about after the latter, but there were people about. I went off to the hay-making, but there were only men carting hay; so I went sniffing about the servants in the house, but nothing came of that. In the afternoon I went to the farm-yard, and prowled about to find some chance, and place to get Pender, and went up into the big loft in the barn over the cart-shed. Why I went up there I don’t know, and had not been there a minute before I heard a scuffle, and a kiss. “I shant, now — you saucy boy”, said a female voice. Another kiss, and a scuffle. “I must go to the house”, said the female. I peeped: it was a nursemaid, and my aunt’s page. The girl ran off, leaving the page. They did not see me.
My aunt’s male in-door servants consisted but of a middle-aged butler who had been in her service many years, a slow, solemn man, a widower, and a page taken on when small, who had recently grown rapidly, and was a heavy, stupid, gawky lad, between fifteen and sixteen years old, too big for his place. My aunt, although always intending to dismiss him, kept him on out of kindness, but at length had said, “Page must go, I shall not give him a new suit, it will be waste of money.” He looked stupid as an owl, and as if an idea about cunt would never have entered his mind.
This boy stood still reflecting, then unbuttoned his trowsers, pulled out a stiff, big prick, and after pulling the prepuce down once or twice, buttoned it up again; stood still, again unbuttoned, sat down on some straw, reflected, and then frigged himself. After wiping his fingers on the straw he went off, leaving me wondering at his lust, the size of his doodle, and the quantity of spunk he shot. “That lumpish boy to do that!” forgetting what I did, when only a little older than him.
“Hullo! what are you doing here?” said a voice. — it was Pender’s. He made no reply. “You’d better be off to the Hall, you’ve no business here.” “I was fetching the nurse-maid.” “Well she’s no business here; you cut, they will be ringing for you.” When the voices ceased I descended, and went to the Hall.
The head farm-man had recently died, he, his wife and daughter, had lived in the cottage in the farm-yard. Pender’s husband had taken his place, but still lived in his cottage in the lane. The woman whose husband had died attended to things in general, the daughter assisted in the dairy, and worked very often up at the Hall. A pretty girl of a common, rustic style of beauty, and about sixteen years old; she used to curtsy to me when she met me, but I had never cast my eyes at her. As I skulked out through the rick-yard into the shrubbery-walk leading to the Hall I met her, stopped, and had a chat, a joke, and finished by a kiss, which she took in very bad part, and wiped away with her hand, as if I was quite disgusting. She was an only child, her name Molly.
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.