yes, if I preferred young, he had two lovely boys, quite young, one thirteen, one fourteen years old, without any hair on them — they were most delicate.

To my annoyance, I awakened in the night with a baudy dream, and spending copiously on my night shirt. They kissed each other, then they rubbed cunts together, till they moaned with pleasure; and then laid silent. Our talk had been of the loosest; all three had been smoking, sitting round the fire, the women with chemises above their knees, letting the warmth of the fire reach their cunts. Now in my dining-room was a sofa, tho not an usual piece of furniture in a dining-room; but I liked to lay there myself and read after dinner at times, so as to avoid the drawing-room and all that was usually in it. in the diligence, and I heard her speak both languages; but though with her for hours, not a word, not a sign of voluptuousness had passed between us, and I had never thought of love till that moment.Then having fucked myself out of my rutting fit, with a kiss I left her, and left the town for Paris, stopping at several towns on the way, and using spyholes whenever there were any, but saw nothing worthy of recording. Sometimes with nursemaids and prostitutes, other times with actresses and even other men’s wives, Walter records everything sexual possible. Walter catches the timbre of their voice with the ear of a musician and their physical form with the eye of an artist. Again we fucked and slept, she awakened, went and listened at her boy's door, pissed in her room, and got into bed with me — I had a night lamp — and we passed a voluptuous but restless night, which left us weak when the morning came; and in one of our burning, lewed caresses, she said she had never had a child, that the boy was her step-child, and had never known his real mother.

I watched all this with intense pleasure, standing on a chair, with my prick out stiff, and feeling it, and longing for a pleasure. Incidents fading into forgetfulness come out quite freshly to me, and I almost seem to be living my youthful life over again. The work itself is enormous, amounting to over one million words, [1] the eleven original volumes amounting to over 4,000 pages. I wonder if today’s socio-sexual scandals have the same basis as Walter’s behaviour: sexual inequality; financial inequality; male impunity; collusion in laying blame on women.We finished the wine, she was heated, I again began talking about her love affair, and now in burning words of lust. Walter" claimed to be a close friend of the barrister in a famous case of the time, which they identify as the case of R v Richard Clarke in 1854. Walter's mantra might have been adopted from Jean-Jaques Rousseau in his Confessions: “My purpose is to display to my kind a portrait in every way true to nature, and the man I shall portray will be myself.

out of the hotel, and fancying there would be no fun for me till night, I thought of going out myself, and in half an hour or so, went up to my room for my great coat. We could hear every movement in each other's room; it was always so in old-fashioned hotels in those days. Dominic read from his audiobook, fully scored, of the greatest erotomaniac of Victorian times, mysterious sex addict ‘Walter’, whose insights into the era outdo Dickens. On I went licking, sucking, tongue probing, now covering her cunt with my saliva, now sucking it up, mixed with her salt effusion. This eleven volume erotic memoir is not the best-written book you will ever read, not the most entertaining, nor the most erotic.She was exquisitely formed, plump to perfection, without an ounce too much fat, and had the loveliest little cunt I ever saw, with a little nutty shaped clitoris, with a mere line of inner lip, and delicately puffed lips covered with bright, chestnut colored, silky, yet crisp hair, which only just covered her mount, and stopped half way down towards the bum hole. By turns racy, turgid, obsessive and perverse, it is one of the dirtiest books you’ll read, yet an extraordinary source of Victorian life and language.