dfather, and now I had done
it. I wrote Fred all about it, he said the old beggar was a doctor, and
it was very unfortunate; he wondered if he really did see any signs in
my face, or whether it was a bounce; that I was not to be a fool, and
give in, and still say I hadn't, but had better leave off frigging.

From that time my godfather was always at my heels, he waited for me at
the schooldoor, spent my half-holidays with me, sat with me and my
aunt of an evening till bed-time, made me ride and drive out with him,
stopped giving me pocket-money altogether, and no one else did; so that
I was not very happy.

The pleasure of frigging, now I had tasted it (and not before), opened
my eyes more fully to the mystery of the sexes, I seemed at once to
understand why women and men got together, and yet was full of wonder
about it. Spunking seemed a nasty business, the smell of cunt an
extraordinary thing in a woman, whose odour generally to me was so
sweet and intoxicating. I read novels harder than ever, liked being near
females and to look at them more than ever, and whether young or old,
common or gentle, was always looking at them and thinking that they had
cunts which had a strong odour, and wondering if they had been fucked; I
used to stare at aunt and cousins, and wonder the same. It seemed to me
scarcely possible, that the sweet, well dressed, smooth-spoken ladies
who came to our house, could let men put the spunk up their cunts. Then
came the wonder if, and how, women spent; what pleasure they had in
fucking, and so on; in all ways was I wondering about copulation, the
oddity of the gruelly, close smelling sperm being ejected into the hole
between a woman's thighs so astonished me. I often thought the whole
business must be a dream of mine; then that there could be no doubt
about it. Among other doubts, was whether the servant's quim, which had
made by fingers smell, was diseased, or not. Fear of detection perhaps
kept me from frigging, but I was weak and growing fast, and have no
recollection of much desire, though mad to better understand a cunt. It
does not dwell in my mind now that I had a desire to fuck one, but to
see it, and above all, to smell it; the recollection of its aroma seems
to have had a strange effect on me. I did not like it much, yet yearned
to smell it again. Watching my opportunity one day, I managed to feel
the servant; it was dusk, she stood with her back up against the wall,
and felt my prick w