Free Teleny or the Reverse of the Medal by Oscar Wilde, Anonymous

hashed scraps, the dregs of the wines which have supplied the banquet that has just glutted us.
    He looked at her with the scorn which a man has for the woman who has just ministered to his pleasure, and who has degraded herself and him. Moreover, as he felt unjust towards her, he hated her, and not himself.
    I felt again that he did not love her, but me, though she had made him for a few moments forget me.
    She seemed to feel his cold glances upon her, for she shivered, and, thinking she was asleep in bed, she tried to cover herself up; and her hand, fumbling for the sheet, pulled up her chemise, only uncovering herself more by that action. She awoke as she did so, and caught Teleny's reproachful glances.
    She looked around, frightened. She tried to cover herself as much as she could; and then, entwining one of her arms round the young man's neck—
    'Do not look at me like that,' she said. 'Am I so loathsome to you? Oh! I see it. You despise me.' And her eyes filled with tears. 'You are right. Why did I yield? Why did I not resist the love that was torturing me? Alas! it was not you; but I who sought you, who made love to you; and now you feel for me nothing but disgust. Tell me, is it so? You love another woman! No!—tell me you don't!'
    'I don't,' said Teleny earnestly.
    'Yes, but swear.'
    'I have already sworn before, or at least offered to do so. What is the use of swearing, if you don't believe me?'
    Though all lust was gone, Teleny felt a heartfelt pity for that handsome young woman who, maddened by love for him, had put into jeopardy her whole existence to throw herself into his arms.
    Who is the man that is not flattered by the love he inspires in a high-born, wealthy, and handsome young woman, who forgets her marriage to enjoy a few moments of bliss in his arms? But then, why do women generally love men who often care so little for them?
    Teleny did his best to comfort her, to tell her over and over again that he cared for no woman, to assure her that he would be eternally faithful to her for her sacrifice; but pity is not love, nor is affection the eagerness of desire.
    Nature was more than satisfied; her beauty had lost all its attraction; they kissed again and again; he languidly passed his hands over all her body, from the nape of the neck to the deep dent between those round hills, which seemed covered with fallen snow, giving her a most delightful sensation as he did so; he caressed her breasts, suckled and bit the tiny protruding nipples, while his fingers were often thrust far within the warm flesh hidden under that mass of jet-black hair. She glowed, she breathed, she shivered with pleasure; but Teleny, though performing his work with masterly skill, remained cold at her side.
    'No, I see that you don't love me; for it is not possible that you—a young man—'
    She did not finish. Teleny felt the sting of her reproaches, but remained passive; for the phallus is not stiffened by taunts.
    She took the lifeless object in her delicate fingers. She rubbed and manipulated it. She even rolled it between her two soft hands. It remained like a piece of dough. She sighed as piteously as Ovid's mistress must have done on a like occasion. She did like this woman did some hundreds of years before. She bent down; she took the tip of that inert piece of flesh between her lips—the pulpy lips which looked like a tiny apricot—so round, sappy, and luscious. Soon it was all in her mouth. She sucked it with as much evident pleasure as if she were a famished baby taking her nurse's breast. As it went in and out, she tickled the prepuce with her expert tongue, touched the tiny lips on her palate.
    The phallus, though somewhat harder, remained always limp and nerveless.
    You know our ignorant forefathers believed in the practice called 'nouer les aiguillettes'— that is rendering the male incapable of performing the pleasant work for which Nature has destined him. We, the enlightened generation, have discarded such gross