My Secret Life

The other reason why I haven't written much here is because I have spent a long time reading a book: Not War and Peace which I have started again and got further with than last time, then came to a stop; Not The Bible though last year I read The Gospels for the first time since I left school; and Not The Complete Plays of William Shakespeare, Nor The Complete Works of Robert Burns; I might have to save those till I am old, like my Aunts – hush, don't tell them I said that, please, or I'll be force-fed unsalted porridge till it's coming down my nose and out my ears!

No, the book I finished last week is My Secret Life by Walter (the pseudonym of the Anonymous author) which is a narrative of his sexual exploits over about 40 years in the middle to late 19th Century, beginning with his participation in mutual masturbation with a group of his school-fellows, the discovery by observation that women are constructed differently from boys and then the forcible seduction of one of his Mother's servants after another – I say forcible seduction, but I should maybe say persistent persuasion, which is then followed by action, heedless of any protests, towards consummation; as he describes his techniques, they seem to consist of asking for a kiss, taking a kiss, questions about garters, outside groping, underskirt groping, always asking for one thing after which he promises to go no further, but he is a man who would promise the Earth and never deliver, because as soon as he takes an inch, he goes for the mile, and it is this constant wearing down of a servant-girl's resistance which, according to him, never fails to get results; and when girls declare that they are now ruined, may be "in the family way," will lose their post, with no character to enable them to find another, he really doesn't care. He's fucked her once, so he will go on fucking her till he tires of her and then will move on to another target – this despite the protestations of love, of adoration, that he glibly makes to any woman who catches his eye.

And after reading the entire eleven volumes of his memoirs, parts of it very difficult for me, there is a considerable degree of honesty in them. Oh, he has no qualms about fucking girls as young as eleven, justifying it to himself in very simple terms: if she is not a virgin, then she is fair game and he will extract as much pleasure from her as he can; and if she is a virgin, then she will surely be fucked by a member of her own class soon enough, so it is better that her first time be with a Gentleman, like himself! He certainly restricts the vast majority of his conquests to girls and women of these "lower classes" and gay women, the term used then for prostitutes. He does not restrict himself to single women, for married women of the lower classes are, to his mind, no different from single, but he has some moral limits when it comes to gentlewomen, particularly if they are married. But that self-denial lasts only until he finds one of them sufficiently attractive and, to his mind, irresistibly attracted to him. When he blithely ignores his self-imposed resolve and quite happily fucks them. He does not consider himself a rapist, describing how, once he has pushed aside a girl or woman's refusals, forced himself on her against her wishes, she will always succumb and take extreme pleasure from the act of conjunction. And as he describes these adventures, he justifies them by his old mantra of "cock and cunt will come together" for his philosophy is that sexual union between man and woman are inevitable, and it is better for all concerned if he is the man.

So once he has fucked a woman, with or without her agreement, he quickly fucks her again. And again. And arranges another meeting which, as he tells it, always occurs. For once a woman's cunt has been stretched by his cock, she is, quite naturally, desirous of further fucking by him. So hat-makers, dress-makers, actresses, shop-keepers, female servants, wives and daughters, all exist for one purpose only, and that is to be fucked and preferably, by him.

Now, he may not be the only single-minded sexual predator of his time, and his activities include countless times with prostitutes, in London and elsewhere, in brothels all over Europe, but his is the most extensive and detailed account of it's kind. It includes much voyeurism – finding or making peep-holes in hotel bedrooms so that he can watch a couple in the next room; watching other customers fuck women in brothels or bawdy houses; it tells of being out for a stroll in Switzerland, seeing a woman working in the fields, accosting her, following her, persuading her to let him into her home or a barn, and fucking her, be she labourer or farmer's wife, it makes no difference. Cock and Cunt Will Come Together. The only true purpose of life.

He married, at least twice. Hated his first wife and spent more of his time with prostitutes or prowling the streets for any woman out alone after dark; was devoted to his second, but after a brief period of fidelity, resumed his daily pursuit. He drew his income from investments, received inheritances and legacies from the wills of relatives, so had no need for work, which, after all, is beneath the dignity of a Gentleman. And although at times he declared himself to be short of 'funds' and could not afford the better class of gay woman who frequented The Argyle Rooms and the West End – Oxford Street, Regent Street, Bond Street – he could not deny himself for long and frequented lower class areas and found women (many of them married) who would let him fuck them for a shilling or two, such was their poverty.

I am not going to retell Walter's story, anyone who wants can get the Kindle version from Amazon for a small price, much less than Walter regularly paid for sex. I really want to reflect on the Man, rather than his exploits. For I don't think he was merely a product of his times and the more casual attitude to sex which ran under the prudery of Victorian hypocrisy. I should guess that his attitude to sex is to be found at all times and in all societies – whether put into practice by most men or not.

When I was at my Edinburgh Girls School, there was a joke wich, I am sure, would be found in all schools, girls, boys or co-educational:

"How many times a day does a man think about sex?"

"Once – from when he wakes up in the morning until he wakes up the next morning!"

"And how often does a woman think of sex?"

"Only when she sees a man!"

He writes that in his view, nothing that consenting adults do together is wrong, and he demonstrates that sort of tolerance in his behaviour, although he doesn't limit his own activities to adults. He pays no regard to whatever the 'age of consent' was at the time, pays as much as he can afford for very young girls – particularly if they are virgins, taking extreme delight in deflowering them. He regards the protestations of what he calls 'modest' women, which term applies to any woman who isn't gay, as mere shams, he begs to be allowed to see their legs above their garters, promising not to go further, and if they won't permit them. simply overpowers them – if he can't have them by broken promises, he takes them by force and in his narrative, they all surrender and enjoy what follows. On his single and over-riding belief that every woman wants to be fucked, pretty much all the time, and he is only doing what is natural and what they may not be willing to admit, but they really want.

Under the Offences against the Person Act 1861, the age of consent was 12 (reflecting the common law of the time), it was a felony to have unlawful carnal knowledge of a girl under the age of 10, and it was a misdemeanour to have unlawful carnal knowledge of a girl between the ages of 10 and 12. In 1885, the Age of Consent was raised to 16.

But so far as Walter was concerned, the age of consent was whatever age the child he wanted to fuck might be, and so far as older girls or women were concerned, if he wanted them, they consented. It was his desire that mattered. If he wanted a woman, he believed, she therefore wanted him, no matter that she might say no or put up resistance, for he believed that resistance was all a game which women play to make the man more determined to have his way. Cock and Cunt shall come together and so far as he was able, he put this into practice on a daily basis, and often more than once a day.

I am quite happy to agree that my opinions of Walter are obviously coloured by my own experiences. I was fucked, from the age of 11, by a succession of men whose desires dominated me. I didn't have the knowledge, the understanding, the mental or physical strength to deny them. I was used and abused, I was seduced, exchanged, bought and sold, by countless numbers of men, many of them old enough to be my father or grandfather, simply for their own pleasure – no concern was ever shown for what I wanted. I was a girl therefore I was put on Earth to be fucked, by whoever wanted me, whenever they wanted, and even by their dogs – as happened on quite a number of occasions – for their own amusement. Yes, my own feelings were secondary to their dogs, no that isn't right, not secondary, simply non-existent!

It's difficult for me to remember, because the number of men – and dogs – who fucked me, whether in my vagina, anus or mouth (and all three at the same time is again too many for me to count) must certainly be in the thousands, between the ages of 11 and 16. There were some, those who owned me, whom I belonged to, literally, who fucked me regularly and often and shared me with their friends. And there were others who borrowed or rented me and fucked me on multiple occasions, in a single night or weekend. And then, when I was one of a group of girls who worked the streets and clubs and pubs around Byres Road in Glasgow, there were lots of one-offs, but also regulars who would come, several times a week, and pick the same girl to fuck, either in an alley, in their own cars, or the van belonging to the same guy as we belonged to. I remember writing earlier that I (we) were treated like living sex-dolls, merely articles for men to use, sub-human, with no rights, no feelings, no purpose beyond serving the sexual needs of complete strangers. Just like the girls and women Walter used whenever he felt the urge, which was almost every time he saw a girl or woman: walking home from her work, or in the same compartment of a train, or a fellow guest in a hotel, or a chambermaid – any female servant in his own or other homes was in his eyes desperate for fucking and he was just the fellow to give her it; women out on the street, in daylight or after dark, in fact, almost every woman he ever met, anywhere, any time, any place.
I know I can't accuse every single man on the planet of having the same thoughts in his head as Walter, and even less off acting on them without compunction, as he did. We regularly hear on the news or in papers about women in India being gang-raped when they are going to work, college, or school, even riding in a bus. And we are told that the number of actual rapes in the UK is considerably higher than the reported number. Rape Crises claim that "approximately 85,000 women and 12,000 men are raped in England and Wales alone every year; that's roughly 11 rapes (of adults alone) every hour."

All I can say with certainty is that my experiences with men, from my 11th birthday until my 16th - the period during which I was exploited, used, abused, and swapped, loaned, owned, rented out and sold on – were that a considerable number of what would be viewed as 'ordinary' men, not monsters, murderers, or maniacs, so far as I could judge, were more than happy to willingly exploit my vulnerability for their own pleasure. whether they paid for me or not; some were 'gentle' if that word can be fairly used to describe men who will fuck a vulnerable child, others were rough and cared absolutely nothing for the person they were fucking; I have said that to me, it felt as if I could have been a sex doll (that description only coming to my mind when I was older and had learned the existence of such things) or some other such object which could be cast away, or, as in the novel Portnoy's Complaint, by Philip Roth, in which the protagonist masturbates with the aid of a slice of liver from the family fridge, eaten!

Since I escaped that life of being, not a sex worker, but a sex toy, I have never been with another man and nor do any men feature in my desires or dreams. I defined myself as a Lesbian and have found my sexual needs more than enough met with other women – without, and only write this because I have been asked the question by several men over the years, the use of dildos or 'strap-ons', and have never penetrated myself with anything resembling a penis. But that is only me. Whatever other women choose to use for their own pleasures, whether alone or with partners, is entirely up to them. But the fact that the question has been put to me – both directly or through social media, mainly Facebook Messenger – is an indication that many men seem to feel that have the right to enquire closely about a woman's sexual behaviour than, I imagine, another man's. Or maybe that is what they talk about at Football, Rugby or Cricket matches, in the Pub or riding in a bus or train, standing in the Pub or sitting in a Cinema. Maybe they turn to the stranger beside them and ask him: "Do you prefer to fuck or be fucked? Do you use a Dildo up your Arse? – Does your girlfriend or wife fuck you with a Strap-on?" Maybe that is what men talk about when women aren't present, or even in the company of their wives or girl-friends. I don't know. and as I would never dream of asking that of a male friend, neighbour, the boy-friend or husband of a woman friend, or a man sitting beside me on a plane or train, I don't suppose I will ever know. Or want to.
I am happy, contented and fulfilled in my own sexual life. I can't seem to find the 'Miss Right' who is supposedly just round the corner and waiting to meet me, and I do believe that is probably because of the nature of the abuse I suffered in childhood, but I do have close and supportive friends and family, and I have no trouble in meeting and having good and active sexual relationships with other women. I just haven't so far been able to form that long-term special bond which is supposed to be everyone's dream of stability and satisfaction. Maybe I will in time, maybe I won't. But for now, I have no complaints. Unlike young Portnoy, I don't need to fuck myself with the family dinner, so that is good enough for me.