Georgy Porgy

Skin touching skin, my skin, that is, touching the skin of a female... was repugnant to me.

I myself was personally involved in the brief chain of events that led up [my mother's] death, I can still remember every single detail as clearly as if it were yesterday. I can switch it on in my memory at any time I like and run it through in front of my eyes exactly as though it were a reel of cinema film; and it never varies.

And sure enough the head of the baby rabbit is now disappearing swiftly into the mother's mouth....
I swing quickly around and the next thing I know I'm looking straight into my own mother's face... and all I see is the mouth, the huge red mouth opening wider and wider.

I would see them eyeing me covertly across the room... whispering to one another, nodding, running their tongues over their lips, sucking at their cigarettes, plotting the best approach, but always whispering... And then slowly as the weeks went by, they began to stalk me.

You see, actually I was mad about women.... I particularly enjoyed the back view of a pair of legs when the feet were in high heels- the wonderful braced up look behind the knees, with the legs themselves very taught as though they were made of strong elastic stretched out almost to breaking point, but not quite.

All rats are suspicious by nature, and when I first put the two sexes together in a box with only a wire between them, neither side made a move. The males stared hard at the females through the fence. The females stared back, waiting for the males to come forward......
I cannot tell you how much good it did me to watch this simple experiment. In one stroke I had laid open the incredibly lavascious, stop-at-nothing nature of the female... I felt suddenly very strong and serence in the knowledge of my own innocence.

What I must actually do now, I told myself, was to weave around me a sort of invisible electric fence constructed entirely out of my own moral fibre.

I arrived at the gates [of the tennis party] on my cycle promptly at six o'clock and pulled up the long drive towards the house. This was the first week of June, and the rhododendrons were massed in great banks of pink and purple all the way along either side.

... the terrace where a group of nine or ten guests were settled comfortably in cane chairs, sipping their drinks. They were mostly women, the usual crowd, all of them dressed in white tennis clothes, and as I strode in among them my own sober black clothing suiting seemed to give me, I thought, just the right amount of separateness for the occasion.

There is a small Georgian summer-house alongside the croquet lawn in Lady Birdwell's garden, and the very next thing I knew, I was sitting inside it on a kind of chaise-longue and Miss Roach was beside me.

The strong arms were around me, pinning me down so that I couldn't move, and the mouth kept getting larger and larger, and then all at once it was right on top of me, huge and wet and cavernous, and the next second- I was inside it.

This isn't such a bad place, and I have made myself as comfortable as I possibly can. It is a small chamber situated in what is almost certainly the primary section of the duodenal loop, just before it begins to run vertically downward in front of the right kidney..... It is a trifle bizarre for a man of conservative tastes like myself. Personally I prefer oak furniture and parquet flooring... There are several other people about, which is rather suprising, but thank God they are every one of them males. For some reason or other, they all wear white coats.