Foreskin's Lament A Memoir Novels & Stories

Hoping he'd be able to make me horny. For once. "You said you want us to make this work. Why are you not tearing off my pants?" He whispered. He tried slipping his hand into my shorts but I held his hand. "I... I am on vagina suppository. I took this uhhh ... Herbal tea for body slimming and it messed with my pH balance." I lied skillfully. "Oh." He jumped out of the bed without a second thought. So much for wanting me badly. Forcing a smile and a 'sorry', I sat up.

The scent of Isabel’s perfume clung to him like a second skin. When I observed how dignified he looked, I suddenly remembered the New Year's Eve a decade ago. I recalled the way he had stood in the snow with the sleeves of his padded jacket still damp and how he had confessed so earnestly to me.

Time had a strange way of dulling pain, of smoothing over the raw edges of loss, leaving behind only a lingering ache—an emptiness that, though it had no name, was always there, always present, just beneath the surface. In the years since, Lyra had become one of the most renowned Memory Seekers in Elysium. Her reputation had grown far beyond the borders of the city where she once began her journey. People from all corners of the world sought her out, entrusting her with their deepest secrets, their forgotten pasts, and their hidden truths. And Lyra, with her sharp intuition and tireless resolve, always delivered.

“Do you think you deserve to say her name?” Rachel, looking at him with concern, asked, “Carlson, your forehead… does it hurt?” Carlson smiled reassuringly. “For a werewolf, this kind of wound is nothing.” He wasn’t wrong. Compared to the pain Lena endured before she died, this was nothing more than a bug bite. Rachel’s tears kept falling as she turned to check on Aileen. Aileen’s eyes burned with anger and humiliation as she looked at me. “Katherine, are you satisfied now?”

Closing the door, I leaned against it and took some deep breaths to calm myself down. I couldn’t believe that I manage to survive that bastard. It had been so close. Thinking about his smelly deck made me want to throw up again. I remembered how bad it had looked with its head covered in all that foreskin. Considering the smell, I did not even want to imagine what filth lay beneath that skin.

He said, looking at me with worry in his eyes. “I’m so sorry; shutting my legs was a trauma response, and it wouldn’t happen again. I want to do this with you so you can replace all the bad memories in my head and fill them with good, love-making memories. In fact…..” I said and pulled down my pants myself, and I could swear I just saw his hardened member twitch.

Our job is not that difficult if our Caree is getting along with us, but because the rest of them can't accept their condition, they are hot-headed and the frustration pours out on us. Others are lucky if they get a good client, and I am not one of the lucky ones since my Caree is a single woman. "Alright, I'll just change my clothes. The soup that was spilled on me was quite hot, I think it burned my skin." Caressing the back of my neck, I said goodbye to her and went straight to the locker room. As soon as I took off my pajama, I could see the redness of my thigh, I couldn't help but close my eyes tightly when I tried to touch it. I think I still need to buy some ointment for this, another

My shirt hung open, rags now, exposing my gaunt chest, ribs stark under pale skin, nipples peaked from the chill and his earlier twists. “Stay down,” he growled, voice low and commanding, kicking my pants the rest of the way off with deliberate slowness. His fingers hooked the waistband, peeling the fabric down my calves, savoring every inch of revealed skin. My legs trembled, thighs quivering as cool air hit my balls, tight and aching. He tossed the pants aside, eyes raking over me,vulnerable, exposed, my cock leaking steadily onto the leather, a slick trail marking my desperation. Fuck, the humiliation burned through me, hot shame twisting with the throb in my groin. My father-in-law's fac

Morning light cut through the blinds like accusation. My thighs still bore Corin’s script — faint, raised lines that pulsed with memory each time fabric brushed them. Even in the shower, steam did little to erase the sting. Instead of pain, it was reminder: that I was no longer unclaimed.

After using me like that, he'll cover me with a blanket as if nothing happened. I balled my fist and slowly sat on the bed. I bit my lower lip as pain sting in between my legs. I groaned and pushed myself to stand. Covered with blanket, I went inside the bathroom, limping. Slowly, I started caressing my arm. I swallowed hard and faced the mirror in the bathroom. With trembling hands, I dropped the blanket and squeezed my eyes closed as I saw the reflection of my body in the mirror. There are kiss marks in my chest and arm, down to my stomach and legs.