Memoirs of my Melancholy Whores

Their ribald laughter and coarse remarks when I requested nervously only a hand manipulation of my male member made me cringe with shame. Nevertheless, many of these debauched creatures will do almost anything for money and, after seeing the earnest expression of my countenance, would lead me to some dark, fetid alley where, with skilful hands, they would assuage the burning flesh of my loins. I suffer such unspeakable anguish each time I have to resort to whores to relieve my lustful desires and, each time, leave them with a feeling of degradation and loathing for my affliction.' He sat in brooding melancholy unable to say any more and afraid to look at me for what he might see in the expression on my face. He had no need to worry on that score, for I only felt a great sympathy for him. There was no resentment in my mind at Lionel's revulsion of certain parts of the female body. I remembered a similar feeling in myself when hair first began to appear above my giny, but it didn't bother me unduly. Stroking the hairs gave me the same pleasant sensation as I got when I ran my hand over the back of a pussy cat ...»