|
Dear Dr. Laura, My name is Tom. I have wanted to write you this letter for a while, but you probably won't want to publish it in your newspaper article. I would like an answer though if you can give your opinion on this because I read your article a lot, as does my wife, and we have agreed to follow your advice. We would also like to hear from your readers on the chance that one of them may offer a point of view that we can't think of, no matter how minor. So I would like to encourage you, if you do choose to publish this, to ask your readers to comment on my letter. I am 25 years old and my wife, Heather, and I have been married for 6 years. We eloped a week after we legally could since Heather's parents didn't think that I could support her. Her parents have since come around since I work hard and we have enough for us and our twin sons who will be two next month. She has a job at a convenience mart, and I work doing technical office support at a big local law firm. I swam during high school, so I'm in fairly good shape. I keep in shape now by swimming, lifting and occasionally playing soccer. I've always been told that I am very cute and smart, and the girls have always been good to me. I've got the unruly light brown hair and the green eyes that girls seem to like, and they certainly like me once they get in my pants. All that is over now since I'm married, and I take my wedding vows very seriously. Something has happened in our marriage recently. Being 25, I need a lot of sex, touching, playing and such. I think that is normal, and I get frustrated when Heather ignores me, or worse, outright rejects my advances. When we were younger we had sex all the time. Then when we were trying to get pregnant, she started asking for it several times a day. Boy were those the good times! I almost had too much sex, certainly as much as I could handle. She wanted it in the kitchen, on the back porch, in the bathtub. She even asked me to take her from behind on the roof one night, something about doing it under the stars... Our sex was always lively, at least until the latest changes. She enjoyed every aspect of it, from the chase to the climax. I don't think she was faking any of that, but now I doubt my memories of those occasions. I think, in comparison to other guys, I am very considerate of Heather's needs. I always make sure that she has at least one orgasm before I ever enter her, because she told me once that she likes it like that. I give her oral sex as much as she gives me oral sex, and I bring her to orgasm with my mouth even though she has never done the same for me. I always make sure that I don't put my whole weight on her when I am on top, and I try to change positions so that she doesn't always feel like she has to be under me. We have done quickies, and we have made love all night long. I'm just not sure what she wants now. Now, we sometimes go a whole month without sex, touching or fondling of any type. When we do have sex, it seems like a chore for Heather- one that she wants to finish as soon as possible. Then she rolls over and goes to sleep. Things have changed mostly since the boys came. I often roll over frustrated at night, and she has gone as far as to suggest that I masturbate to a magazine picture or rent a video. I think my wife is beautiful, with the long legs, blond hair and blue eyes of a model. Her cheerleading and dance classes in high school certainly built her body nicely, and she quickly got back to her fighting weight after the boys were born. Because of that, and because I'm an old-fashioned guy, I won't feel right if I do look at a picture in a magazine. Some of my friends suggest that I get a little action with some of the cute girls at work, but I wouldn't feel right about that either. I'm sure none of the girls would refuse me, because they all come on to me all the time with offers for a little office closet party. I am strictly a one-girl kind of guy, and Heather knows that. My mind has been lately turning to other solutions. That is what Heather and I are writing you about. My brothers, Dick and Harry (yes, together we are Tom, Dick and Harry), have both had prostrate cancer at an early age. They are twins, and they are 12 years older than I am. Our Dad had prostrate cancer too, and that is what took him from us when he was 54. Our grandfather also died young, although we don't know why. When Dick and Harry were diagnosed they were concerned that the cancer would spell an end to their sex lives, the doctor was mainly concerned about our family history, but agreed to try and cure the cancer without surgery. He recommended the most radical non-surgical treatment available. Radiation, chemo, and some new cancer drugs were diagnosed. Both cancers went into remission for several months, but then came roaring back stronger than ever. The chemical treatment had taken a lot of fight out of Dick and Harry, so they agreed to a surgical treatment, just to end their suffering. The doctor recommended complete removal of the prostrate as well as an bilateral orchidectomy to ensure that the cancer was fully excised. Of course, Dick and Harry didn't want anything to do with that, but their wives, together with mine, managed to talk them into the radical action to save their lives. The cancers were progressing quickly, so the doctor suggested the surgeries for the following week. Dick tells me that he and his wife made love every night and most of every day in that last week, and that he was so sexually exhausted when he finally reported to the hospital that the surgery was almost a relief. Harry won't tell me about his last week, but I'm sure, knowing my horny brother, that he and his wife had plenty of fun too. The doctor did the two surgeries in birth order on the same day. Dick went under the knife first followed by Harry. By that afternoon they were both in recovery, and the prognosis was excellent. Both of my brothers have fully recovered and the cancer is in full remission. Of course, both of my brothers have no sex life whatsoever. Dick said that he never has to worry about getting horny at an awkward time again. He told me that shortly after his neutering that he didn't really have to worry about an uncontrollable drive anymore, and that his need for sex has faded entirely away since then. And that has me thinking of it myself. What is the difference if the doctor takes off your testicles with a knife, or if your wife removes them with her words? I've had a lot of sex since my puberty at 12. I lost my virginity on my 13th birthday, and haven't looked back since. I've only got the two kids that I know of but I think that is enough for Heather and I. Why keep my balls? They seem to just be a source of frustration to me, and a target of abuse for Heather. My whole family is well blessed in the cock and ball department. We have always been well endowed- even as young boys. Dick and Harry's doctor says that might be part of the cause for our cancer problems- as if cock size and cancer were linked somehow. Yeah, I like to swagger around the Y with them flopping between my legs since they are attention getters, but I'd be a little embarrassed without them there. I'm not sure what I would tell the boys when they get older and ask why their father doesn't have a set of balls. I'm also worried that Heather might someday want sex again, and I won't be able to go back on the surgery once it's done. Once they're gone, they're gone. Dick and Harry are both enthusiastic about the idea. I think they are jealous of my cock and balls. I get a little thrill of power every time I am naked with them. They are smooth under their cocks, but I've still got my full sack. It makes me a little hard sometimes when I'm with them- the little brother, who is more of a man now than they ever will be again. Ironic I think. I've discussed this with Heather. She is very supportive, but I wanted another outside opinion before we decided. I hope you can help us out here. Just imagine, when you write your reply, my floppy sack on your typewriter. I'm ready if you want to hit the key, but I you say "don't cut" then we wont. My balls are in your hands. Tom and Heather |