The Pearl/Volume 18/How He Lost His Whiskers: An Episode in the Life of Steve Broad

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The Pearl
Printed for the Society of Vice
How He Lost His Whiskers: An Episode in the Life of Steve Broad

You didn't know Steve Broad? More's the pity! A jollier, better-heard and manlier fellow never pissed against a wall.

He was my constant chum from the time we occupied some diggings in Camden Town. Till he went to Australia we were together.

The Siamese Twins, Castor and Pollux, were not more inseparable.

Old Jack Falstaff and Prince Henry and Poins loved each other because "their legs were both of a bigness."

Shall I whisper the secret or one of the secrets of our attachment? Our pricks were both of a length and our arse-holes the same gauge. Don't infer too much from that admission. It was not often that we fucked. There, I will tell you a story that will show you the sort of fellow he was.

Steve had a pal, Alf Nugent, and he and Alf had lived together as chums. Alf occasionally receiving a visit in his lodging from a pretty sister, Lettice, as they called her from Letty Nugent, a charming little blonde with oh! such shoulders; a mouth humid and peachlike and a pair of eyes that would entice the bark off a tree.

It was not long before Steve and Letty struck up an acquaintance. Steve could make love like a Romeo.

Letty was "willing" as Barkis, and the brother Alf was not one to spoil sport, so the three got on charmingly together, Alf often gave a pleasant little party. I was invited. Steve had made my acquaintance in the city, and took me there. I introduced a young girl Kitty Marshall, and Alf brought his inamorata, Nellie Grover. So that the six of us formed a pleasant little gathering and rare fun we had.

Let me sketch for you one of our social meetings after a recherche supper, prepared by the nimble hands of Letty Nugent, who turned out every article as palatable as Ruth Pinch's Steakpie.

The table was cleared of all but wines and fruits, the couches were drawn up to the fire and the six of us would go in for a little fun.

Steve would warble in his rich manly voice a polly song, such as:

There's a thing that bears a well-known name,
Though it is but a little spot;
Its smell sets my heart and my brain in a flame,
And its touch makes my prick grow hot,
'Tis the sweetest thing this world can show,
To praise it can't be wrong;
'Twill set your blood in a fervid glow,
Make your prick grow stiff and long.

'Tis a woman's cunt. Her glorious fan,
Oh, a cunt is the pride of an Englishman.

That cunt will not be treated with shame,
But calls for proper respect;
And though mostly fit for a fucking game,
Yet it sometimes in mourning is decked.
Then beware how you go with the darling then,
Or perhaps sorely punished you'll be;
For cunt won't be the sport of men,
When it wants its privacy.

For caprice is part of cunt's own plan
To enhance its joys to an Englishman.

But when cunt is ready, I give you the tip,
No half-hearted play can it stand;
It likes to be fondled with tongue and with lip,
And shuns not the touch of your hand.
But the glorious Prick sets Miss Cunt in a thrill,
She loves a prick, long, thick, and firm.
And she'll wriggle and pant till you madly fill
Her bang full of glowing sperm.

You may frig and gamahuche and try every plan,
But fair fucking's the pride of an Englishman.

Of course a song like this was well received and quickly followed by a practical illustration.

My little lady, Kitty Marshall, warmly defended gamahuching and so did I; for laying Kitty down on the couch and parting her beautiful legs I displayed to the others a cleft that an angel would think it a new joy to suck. Soon the whole six of us were engaged in an amorous orgy, and Steve, who certainly could boast the most magnificent priapus that ever adorned a man, took pretty little Letty in his arms and gave her what you may call an "Exhibition Fuck." His balls knocked against the entrance of her lovely quim and at last when she wriggled and panted and hugged

him into a spend he poured such a libation into her that we could see it overflow and they mutually lay entranced until we revived them with some glorious wine.

Then we would go in for a game of blindman's buff, all being stripped naked and armed with birch; we would scamper about the room, cutting right and left, and endeavouring to land some smart blows on each other's glowing posteriors, until thoroughly exhausted; we would sit down on our smarting arses for a good story or song.

Apropos of our game of blindman's buff, Alf told us a good story.

A respectable-looking old buck was brought before Mr. Norton, the magistrate, charged with dog stealing or rather enticing ladies' dogs to follow him with the intention of stealing them.

"Well, sir," said Mr. Norton, "what have you to say to this charge?"

"If your honour will allow me to explain it in my own way and give you a little bit of my history I think I can prove it is all a mistake."

"Well," said the magistrate, "go on."

"Well, your honour, a year or two ago I had a little money and wishing to see life I took a walk late at night in the neighbourhood of Haymarket, and got into the company of one of those girls."

"One of what girls?" said Norton.

"A whore."

"Well, sir, your expression is far from elegant, but I understand you."

"Well, your honour, this girl enticed me home and there I found a lot of her companions and a nice little spree we had. At last we proposed a game of blindman's buff, and as I was the only male present it was proposed that we should all strip and then the ladies should be blindfolded and a prize given to the lady that caught me. Oh, it was jolly fun to see the girls running about naked and catching hold of each other and their slipping their hands down to the proper place to feel if it was the man they held; but they kept giving me such jolly slaps on my bottom that I tried to run out of the door when one of the girls picked up my umbrella which stood in the corner and made a lunge at me (the devil must have looked). Oh, the tip of the umbrella entered my fundament as it was turned to her and as she withdrew it the ferule was left behind, and there it is now, and every time I sigh-"

"Every time you what?" asked Mr. Norton.

"Well, every time I fart, if you like, the ferule whistles and the dogs follow me and I can't help it."

Mr. Norton laughed heartily at this explanation, told him not to diet windily, and let him go.

But, however, to return to Steve. He soon got to be really in love with Letty, proposed marriage to her and had the full consent of her brother Alf, and the promised consent of her father; and it was arranged that on the return of Alf and his sister to their country home, Steve should come on a visit and get the old boy's consent.

The old gentleman invited him to get a look at him.

The time came. Alf and Letty went home and Steve was soon to follow.

At last the day arrived and he went.

After picking up his traps, bidding his landlady good-bye, and giving the slavey a farewell grind on the kitchen-dresser, he took himself down to the station, booked for Fairbanks, and was soon seated alone in a first-class carriage.

Alone! Yes, all but a delightful companion - the last number of The Pearl with which and his favourite meerschaum Steve whiled away the time as the stations flew past.

It was a beautiful day but he heeded not the aspect of the country, so thoroughly was he absorbed in the doings of Lady Pokingham and Miss Coote, etc.

All this excited his imagination until he got in a most furious state, not knowing how to ease his torment, and only wishing that he had a companion on the journey, whether male or female, he would have heeded not. He was in such a pitch of excitement that he would have got into a kangaroo, when-

The train stopped at Bellevue, and-

A young lady got on board carrying a rather large bundle which she placed under the seat and then sat down.

Steve's heart bounded as he noticed her light flowing hair, her airy step, and her little figure. But she was closely veiled and as yet he could not see her face, but the

lovely swell of her bosom, the creamy whiteness of the little bit of her throat that was visible convinced him that she was young and lovely.

The train sped on. Modestly the young lady kept her veil down and Steve thrust The Pearl in his pocket and was soon deep in the Times.

Oh, how that veiled face piqued him! Again, again and again he cast his eyes to it over the Times but the veil was still down.

"Does the draught annoy you?" said Steve, pointing to the partly opened window.

"Not at all, thank you," replied a sweet voice behind the veil.

Something in the voice thrilled Steve through. He had heard it before he felt sure, and he was more anxious than ever to see the face it belonged to.

At last as they passed a certain station with a sigh of relief she threw up her veil and turned her face to her hero.

"Good heavens, Kate, is it you?"

"Why, Mr. Broad, who would have thought of seeing you. Oh, I am so glad. You know that odious old lawyer, that wanted to marry me? Well I am positively flying from him and until I passed this station I felt they would pursue me. That is why I kept myself veiled but now I am quite out of my trouble, I think; for I have got a disguise which I shall put on. I tried all I could to get into an empty carriage but the guard assured me there was not one, but now you can help and not hinder me."

Let me tell you now, that Steve and the lady were old friends. They had met the first time at some private theatricals. Steve made love to her in the character of a French Count on the stage, and in his character of an English lover off the stage, he managed to make a first appearance in Kate's delicious cunny. In fact he took her maidenhead and many a delightful love-fuck they had, until Kate went abroad. And now they had met again under such strange circumstances.

"Let me tell you quickly," said Kate, "I am engaged to Paul Jellocombe, you remember him. Well, love, you won't be jealous when I tell you we are going to be married as soon as ever I am of age. I have escaped from home and mean to stay with Paul's folks until a few weeks elapse when I shall be my own mistress. And now for my plan: I have eluded them so far, but for fear they should dispatch a message to the telegraph station and stop me I have brought a disguise, and now, help me on with it, quick. You shall be my lady's-maid."

Before Steve had time to get his breath the charming, volatile girl took off bonnet and cloak, undid her dress, whipped it off around her feet, exposing a lovely pair of white shoulders and two glowing breasts, small for her size, but round, polished as marble.

If Steve's priapus had before been excited it was now delirious.

Jumping from his seat he helped her take off her petticoats, etc., until she came to her drawers.

"Stop sir, that will do," said Kate, "I don't want any further undressing. No! No! Don't be foolish. I can allow no liberties. Quick, I know this line well, you have only just time to turn me into a middy before we get to the next station."

Stooping as she spoke she undid the bundle at her feet and quick as her nimble fingers could move and with Steve's assistance, she was soon dressed as a middy. Her light hair was tucked cleverly up, a short crisp wig assumed. Her cap stuck jauntily on her head. She looked as smart and trim a middy as ever saluted the quarter-deck.

The transformation was no sooner completed than the train stopped at a station, and they both jumped out for refreshments.

The rollicking girl, her walk, her gait, showed her well fitted to play her part. She was indeed no mean actress.

As soon as they were back in the carriage, which Steve adroitly secured for themselves by puffing a tremendous cloud of smoke in the eyes of an old lady who would have entered, Steve took the middy on his knee.

"Well, Kate, love, this is quite an adventure and I tell you, it is a long way to the next station, and as it has been one of the great ambitions of my life to fuck a midshipman this is too good an opportunity to let it pass."

Kate offered no resistance. Thrusting his hand into the bosom of her jacket he first felt her round and polished breasts, pinched her nipples and fired her with his wanton touches and the hot burning kisses he printed on her lips. Then unbuttoning his trousers he allowed his splendid staff d'amour to display itself before her.

"Oh, Steve, how it has grown since I saw it last," said Kate mischievously as she took it in her hand.

"Yes," said Steve, who could not resist a pun, "I have heard him groan for a taste of your darling cunny. Come, let me feel how it is getting on?"

As he spoke he slid his hand into her trousers and felt her cunt, moist and mossy, tickled her clitoris, and roused all her warming passions.

As the train sped on they abandoned themselves to all that their impassioned natures could suggest.

Steve knelt down on the floor of the carriage and opening wide Kate's legs he pressed his hot lips to her creamy cunt, and gamahuched her, until she spent in delirious pleasure.

And then when all his feelings were working up to such a pitch of excitement that he could no longer contain himself, he laid her supple form over the seat and getting into her from behind he thrust his prick to the very hilt in her reeking cunt. One, two, three thrusts and as he clasped her to him with a convulsive thrill he poured out his manly balm in an ecstasy of enjoyment.

"Hi, hi! Stop that you infernal scoundrels! Oh, you dirty rascals!"

In a sudden bewildered start of alarm they looked round to see a red, round, indignant face, ornamented with a bristly white moustache arid surmounted by a tuft of white hair that made the upper part of the head look like an infuriated cockatoo.

His face was peeping on them through a window in their compartment, which being concealed by a curtain the same colour as the carriage they had not noticed.

The passenger in the next compartment, reaching something from the back over his head, was prompted to draw the curtain and his restless, listless curiosity was rewarded by seeing Steve ram his hungry prick into Kate's writhing cunt, but as the old boy thought, into the arse.

In a minute Steve and Kate arranged their costume, and were sitting down whilst the passenger continued to glare at them muttering subdued imprecations and swearing he would charge them at the next station.

Without turning his head Steve whispered to Kate to get out at the next station, to bolt through for the highroad and leave him to detain the old boy until he could join her.

Quick as thought, as they neared the station, Steve bolted out, using a railway key he always carried. He locked the compartment in which the old man was alone and he and Kate dashed through the station before the fat old duffer could cause them to be stopped.

Quickly as they could they made for the country and had a parting rural fuck which they thoroughly enjoyed.

There is really something delightful in rural out of doors, al fresco fuck, the music of the birds, the babbling of the nearby stream, the fresh air fanning your face, and invigorating your frame, seem to me to always give great zest and vigour to the performance. I know for myself the thrusts I give are more vigorous, the sperm I spend is more copious and the thrill always more delightful when I have a glorious country-fuck in the open air.

"Good-bye, I am sure it will not be long before I see you again," said Kate. "And married or not, remember, there is always a loving, dear, affectionate little cunny to welcome you whenever you see me."

"Farewell," said Steve, "and be sure my prick will always stand your true friend."

So they parted.

A hearty welcome awaited Steve at the hands of Alf Nugent and his charming sister Letty.

They were alone in the house, their father being expected shortly, so they made him quite free.

After a jolly meal for which his long walk had given him an appetite, Alf said: "Now let me show you our private boudoir."

Following him, Steve soon found himself in a most tastefully furnished little room. A pianoforte stood in one corner, other musical instruments were about the room, splendid pictures of voluptuous scenes adorned the walls and a glorious couch that seemed fit for a seraph to recline on stood the chief object of attention.

"And now," said Alf, "before my father comes home, and he will not be long, he has only some slight business in the town, let us see if you are in good form. Letty is dying for a fuck and I shall have great pleasure in seeing you operate."

Steve was quite reinvigorated. It took but a little time for them to undress the lovely girl and lay her at full length on the soft spring-couch.

In a few moments Steve was on her, and his prick buried to the hilt in her luscious cunt.

"Go to it, Steve," said Alf. "Give it to her. The young hussey has some good stuff to spend, I know, for she sucked my prick three times yesterday. There now, you are getting slow but I'll warm you up, I warrant," and suiting the action to the word, Alf seized a birch from a corner and laid it smartly across Steve's arse.

This quickened his strokes and soon a shiver shook their bodies and Letty and he melted in a glorious spend.

"Oh, poor Alf, look at his prick," said Letty.

And turning around as he slid off her, Steve certainly noticed the stiffness of Alf's prick and it was in a most painful state of excitement.

Whilst Steve readjusted his clothes, Letty dropped quietly to her knees, and taking Alf's prick between her ruby lips, soon sucked it into a state of quiescence whilst Steve looked on highly amused at the look of gratified pleasure which soon spread over Alf's countenance.

"Hark!" said Alf, "what is that! A carriage, as sure as I live, it must be father. Look, Steve, from the window, who is it?"

Steve looked out.

"It is an old gentleman coming up the garden walk, Alf. Is that your father?" Alf peered out.


"Then for heaven's sake don't let him see me, I must disguise myself. I cannot stop now to tell you how, but something must be done to destroy my identity or I am done for. Quick, Letty, you go down and meet your father; Alf and I will join you presently!"

Letty soon disappeared, though burning with curiosity. She was docile and did as she was bidden.

"Now, Alf," said Steve, "your guv'nor saw me in the railway carriage fucking a lovely girl, but as I was having her backwards and she was disguised as a sailor - a tale hangs to it but I can't tell you now - I expect he thought I was doing a bit of backdoor work and as he may be a particular old boy he must not know me again."

Steve was a young man of decision. Although it cost him a sigh, his beautiful whiskers were, soon sacrificed. His tact and skill soon changed his whole appearance and when he descended to join Letty and Mr. Nugent, but for a sign from

Alf, Letty would not have known him. Much less did Mr. Nugent recognize the bold flicker of the railway.

That's how Steve lost his whiskers.

A curious sequel hangs to the story. After dinner, when the gentlemen were alone, the old gentleman began:

"A very curious circumstance happened to me this morning when in a railway- train. I happened accidentally to look through the window of the compartment and saw a young man actually in the act of indecency with a midshipman; the rascals escaped by locking me in the carriage. However, in the carriage he had left, the young villain dropped a book. I took charge of it; as I had no spectacles I did not look close at it but as it doubtless contains some clue to the rascal, look at it for me."

Steve saw in a moment it was The Pearl; but knowing no clue to his identity was in it, he just glanced at it, handed it back, advising old Nugent to look at it more closely in the privacy of his chamber.

The old chap retired presently for his afternoon nap, taking the book with him, and soon after they heard peals of laughter from his room. Then he was heard walking up and down and soon his voice was heard calling Patty, his favourite servant.

Alf and Steve peeped through the keyhole after she had entered the room and saw him reading passages from the book. Then taking her in his arms he laid her on the bed, and raising his shirt-tail, he displayed his prick, stalwart and strong. In a few moments it was lodged in her creamy cunt. And both Steve and Alf were convinced that the old boy knew the way there.

In the evening old Nugent called Letty and Steve, joined their hands and said: "Bless you my children! A delightful little work I have been reading today has put fucking in such a beautiful light that I at once give you my consent to commence it as soon as possible. I have quite altered my opinion about that young fellow I saw and am convinced that to give his prick a treat is the first duty of every man at all times. I propose now that your nuptials shall be celebrated by a glorious fucking tournament."

This was done. Happiness was the lot of them all that evening.

Old Nugent never found out Steve's escapade. He died soon after and left them a heap of money, and so amorous was the old boy to the last that they had to send for the servant to toss him off, before they could get the lid on the coffin.

Kate married and is quite happy and I long to see Steve and have another laugh with him over: "How he lost his whiskers."


The ladies in America have taken to dabbling on the Stock Exchange.

The following telegrams passed between two lady friends and rather puzzled the telegraph officials.

"Dear Louise, a bull here has a large concern for which he is anxious to find an opening. Can you accommodate him?"

The reply was:

"I cannot at present as my monthly settlements are on, but if the bull can keep it standing for a week, I have no doubt I can find a vacancy for it."

Q.- When is a newly married lady like the Victory at Trafalgar? A.- When her cock-pit is full of bloody semen.