Leaving Briscoe

Teresa put her bare feet against the dash and slumped back in the ripped fabric seat of the ancient white Thunderbird. It was a sweltering hot July day here in Frio County, Texas. The air conditioning in the Thunderbird hadn't worked in ages and Teresa's long, curly brown hair whipped wildly around as we sped southward on Interstate 35, all windows open and the radio blasting out some half-rate country music.

Up ahead a small restaurant and gas station appeared. "Lets get something to drink, Chloe" Teresa said, "we've still got plenty of time before visiting hours." I pulled the car off the road into the dusty parking lot. As we walked into the darkened interior of the restaurant, we must have looked a mess. Both of us were wearing jeans with cutoff tee shirt tops that clung to our profusely sweating bodies, Teresa's prominent nipples poking through the thin wet fabric. We took seats at the counter and each of us ordered a beer. As we sat drinking, I noticed a man watching us from the corner of the room over by the pool tables. He was the typical guy from these parts, tanned from working outside, greasy, unkempt hair, wearing the typical texas cowboy clothes. Obviously under the influence, he stumbled over, and steadied himself with one elbow on the counter, just inches away from Teresa, glowering at her. From where I sat I could smell his breath; rotten teeth and whiskey. I felt for the knife in my pocket. My husband had always told me, go for the balls, it's the guy's weakest point. The cowboy remained silent, just looking at Teresa while she drank her beer. She didn't acknowledge his presence, she just kept looking straight ahead. He looked down at her large breasts, then spoke "Wanna fuck?" My muscles tensed, my fists clenched. Teresa remained cool, drinking her beer. "Well, do ya bitch!" the cowboy was getting louder, "do ya wanna fuck a real man?" I felt my hand moving back to my pocket, my fingertips touched the cool plastic handgrip of the knife. "Some nerve you've got comin' in here, big tits, ya wanna fuck?" the cowboy was screaming, "well do yah?" I turned in my seat and looked the cowboy straight in the eye. At that moment, one of the cowboy's buddies spoke up, "For christ sakes Bob, git over here and leave them girls alone." A couple of men escorted the cowboy back to their table, "Sorry ma'am, Bob's got a few problems" one of them said. We finished our beers and got back on the road, heading toward the small town of Dilley.

Travelling west on highway 35 just outside of Dilley, Briscoe Prison came into view, set against the hot, desolate landscape. It's a modern prison, built in the early 1990's, the sharp institutional lines contrasting with the rugged country of southwest Texas. At the entrance I slowed and brought the car to a halt. I made sure I left my knife in the car, although searches of visitors are rare at this medium security prison I wasn't about to take any chances. Teresa and me got out of the car and went into the visitors entrance.

My husband, Martin, had been an inmate at Briscoe for the past two years. Teresa's husband, Duncan has been inside for a bit longer. We sat in the reception area and made small talk while waiting for the men to come out. It was a relaxed atmosphere, a large open room with tables and chairs, with a play area for visitors with children. Teresa and me had first met here just a couple of months ago and had struck up a friendship right away. Every week we shared a ride down here to the prison to see our men. In a little while both men came in, we chatted. Before long visiting time was over for another week and Teresa and me headed home.

It was eleven at night when we arrived back in San Antonio. Teresa lived a half hour outside of the city in a small town. I invited her to stay overnight and finish her drive home the next day, an offer she graciously accepted. After a hot day on the road, I took a shower washing the grime and sweat from my body, put on my robe and lay on my bed watching a late movie on the television. Teresa went into the bathroom, which is just off the bedroom. I heard the shower running. About ten minutes later the shower stopped and Teresa appeared at the doorway, naked, drying off her hair with a towel. She had an evenly tanned body, slender legs leading to her curved hips and a tight round butt. Her mons was clean shaven; wrinkled, dark brown inner lips poked out between the fat, hairless labia majora. Each one of her huge breasts sported a hard nipple surrounded by a perfectly circular light brown areole nearly two inches in diameter. I didn't have another robe so I handed her a blanket instead. She wrapped it around herself and laid down beside me on the bed.

It didn't take long, in the dark room lit only by the glow of the television. Teresa snuggled up beside me, I felt the soft warmth of her breast on my bare arm, her gentle breath on my cheek and the smell of her freshly washed hair. I had never thought of Teresa that way before but I was beginning to become aroused. She must have sensed it also, her lips began carressing me behind my right ear, very gently, very softly, her warm, wet tongue first playing with my ear lobe, then working into the ear itself. Shifting slightly I pulled the edge of the blanket covering her over me and felt her hand move underneath my robe cupping my right breast, then moving down, undoing the belt, she opened my robe. Teresa swung her leg over me, mounting me. I felt the stubble of her shaved pubes on my belly, her breasts brushed my face as she began stroking and caressing my forehead, her hands cradling my head. She ran her tongue, soft, warm and wet, down the bridge of my nose, over my eyelids, around my lips then plunged it deep into my open mouth. Our mouths locked, tongues intertwined twisting in passion, arms wrapped tightly around each other, sweating, panting, fast sweet breath. As I lay on my back, Teresa began working downward, kissing and licking my neck, then took my left nipple in her mouth while gently massaging my right breast with her left hand. With my left hand I stroked her head and hair. I was aware of a wetness on my belly where Teresa's pubes were softly rubbing me, and then wetness between my own thighs, my back arched and I orgasmed. She continued downward, kissing my belly, exploring my navel with her tongue. Her fingers stroked my pubic hair, now wet with both our juices, her hands separated my legs and her open mouth covered my vulva. I could feel her tongue wiggling in my vagina, I could feel and hear her sucking as she drank my warm love juice, my sensitive flesh, engorged with excitement expanding into her hungry mouth. The stimulation again brought me to orgasm, twice more, and I lay back, exhausted, covered in sweat.

Ten minutes of rest refreshed me. Teresa lay naked on her back beside me, under the blanket, in a semi-sleep. Rolling over, I took a nipple into my mouth, sucking it, nibbling it, playing with it. The nipple responded by becoming erect almost instantly, Teresa's breathing became faster. Her body was covered in a light dew of salty sweat. As I played with her bountiful breasts, she moved her right hand past me down to her vulva and began to masturbate, both of our bodies picking up the rhythm, moving together, faster and faster. I don't know why I did it, but as she brought her hand, wet with her vaginal juices, by my mouth I stopped her, held her hand lightly by the wrist sucking and licking each of her wet fingers in turn. Teresa had a salty taste, with a slight sweetness, it was the first time I had ever tasted another woman. Quickly I worked my way down to her belly, giving her little love bites, savoring the taste of her sweaty skin. A little roughness now from her pubic stubble, then the hot, wet softness of her swollen labia entered my mouth. She spread her legs. My tongue pushed between the labia and felt for her clitoris, massaging the sensitive organ while Teresa rocked slowly back and forth. I could feel Teresa's clitoris increasing in size, becoming harder, rearing up out of its hiding place, slipping and sliding against my tongue. Faster and faster she rocked, gasping, moaning, shuddering as a massive orgasm engulfed her entire body, arching her back, curling her toes, her hot juice flowing into my mouth, relaxing. I continued probing her, pushing my tongue down her muscular vagina, exploring all the nooks and crannies of her vulva. Another orgasm followed, then another. As a finale, I separated her buttocks with my hands and lightly flicked her tender anus with the tip of my tongue; she let out a surprised squeal. Exhausted and happy we drifted off to sleep.

The next day, Teresa decided to take the opportunity of being in the city to do some research. Her husband, Duncan, was due for parole in another three weeks and she was setting up some counselling sessions for him. Teresa's husband, like my husband had been convicted of sexual stalking. In prison the treatment is spiritual growth sessions, led by the chaplin, and some psychotherapy. Both of our husbands had toyed with the idea of a medical solution, what has become known as chemical castration, but the state considered that to be a "cruel and unusual punishment"; it is not allowed, no matter what the grounds. Duncan had even tried to find a doctor who would surgically castrate him but without any luck. Aside from his wish to become a good citizen there was another factor that made him consider extreme measures. This was Duncan's second run-in with the law, my husband Martin is also a two-time offender, and all of us worried about what would happen if they re-offended. The state has a tough three-strike law for sexual offenders.

Duncan's counsellor was an associate professor at the university. After seeing him, she stopped by the library. It was in the university library she found a small book "Chinese Eunuchs: The Structure of Intimate Politics", written in 1970 by Taisuke Mitamura. It not only detailed the life of eunuchs in the Imperial Court, it detailed the making of a eunuch. Until this time Teresa had not given much thought to the technique of castration. She told me that Duncan's quest for a doctor to perform the operation had piqued her interest and she, read and re-read the book, each time, she confessed to me, with a heightened sense of excitment. She described to me in detail how a eunuch was made and how very few complications arose even with the crude surgical techniques used at that time.

The next week's visit came and went without incident, Teresa stayed at my apartment after the trip. After her shower Teresa came into the bedroom carrying her knapsack. Rummaging around in the bottom she pulled out a plain white plastic bag. "See what I got" she said, pulling out a belt and a dildo, shaped and colored to resemble a very large, very realistic penis. The belt had a soft padded attachment, complete with plastic stimulating knobs, which she positioned over her mons and clitoris, then snapped on the dildo. She placed me on my hands and knees, I felt her soft warm tongue gently stroke my vulva paying special attention to my engorged clitoris and labia. After a few minutes I was wet enough for Teresa to mount me and ram the dildo home. Thrusting in and out she brought me to orgasm several times. Lying on my belly relaxing, Teresa reached back in her white plastic bag and produced a bottle of lubricant. "I'm already really wet" I said, "We don't need that." She just smiled and took the top off the bottle. I felt a couple of cold drops of liquid run between my butt cheeks and a moment later Teresa's warm finger spreading the lube around my anus. Kneeling with a leg on either side of my hip she began to penetrate me from behind, I felt the firm soft dildo nudge at my anus, my sphincter contracting at the unusual feeling. Using her fingers, Teresa patiently worked it open and the first tiny bit of the dildo entered my anus. Keeping a steady pressure up, Teresa gradually pushed the entire dildo into my anus. Working it slowly in and out felt different but still very satisfying. Pulling out the dildo, she lifted me into a doggy style position on the bed. The next thing I felt was her well lubricated middle and index fingers pushing past my now relaxed anal sphincter deep inside of me, pushing and probing my female parts. "I can feel your uterus, Chloe" she said as her other hand gently pushed up on my belly while her fingers manipulated me inside. She moved the hand from my belly and began to softly stroke my clitoris and labia, while the thumb of her other hand slipped into my vagina. Sensitive, swollen flesh from our earlier sex play quickly brought me to powerful, multiple orgasms, my pelvic muscles grabbing ahold of Teresa's fingers with such force I was afraid I might cause her injury.

Afterwards, I didn't have too much energy left but I was determined to give Teresa some good loving too. She had gone to the bathroom to wash up and to clean off the dildo, returning she laid down beside me on her belly, stroking my hair and face, watching me. Gently, I turned and began to kiss the small of her back sucking, biting, using my tongue. I worked down ever so slowly covering every inch, her skin was warm, soft and sweet. By the time I got to her buttocks, she was fully arroused. Kissing the warm, fragrant flesh I separated her buttocks and began to work my way down to her anus. My lips touched it first, kissing it deeply, sucking the pouting muscular orifice. Just like she did the week before, Teresa reacted with an excited squeal. Firmly, I began to push my tongue inside of her, the anus contracted, resisting, I kept pushing and all at once it relaxed, my tongue penetrated deep into Teresa's rectum, her most initimate, private place. She later told me that I was the first to go there, no other man or woman, not even her husband Duncan pleasured her there. That night I was able to bring Teresa to orgasm five times, both of us exhausted, we slept. As usual, Teresa left for home the next day.

Time passes quickly and Teresa went to pick up Duncan after he had been released on parole. She stopped by my apartment after dropping him off for a session with his counsellor. Duncan, it seemed, was becoming depressed. Teresa said he was slipping back into his old ways and she was worried what he might do. Gradually our talk turned to the subject of castration. I'm not sure who said it first, but we began seriously talking about that option. Teresa thought she might be able to find a foreign doctor to do it, but with Duncan on parole, he couldn't leave the country. As I looked at her our eyes locked. "Don't some men try to castrate themselves?" I asked. She replied that it was common with depression and the type of problem that Duncan had. "You've studied castration" I said, "Why don't you castrate Duncan yourself? It can't be very difficult and if something does go wrong, just tell the paramedics that he did it in a fit of desperation." Teresa thought for a minute, "That's a good idea. The chinese rarely lost anyone, they were brutal and didn't have a very good knowledge of anatomy. I'll talk to Duncan." Then she left to pick up Duncan.

Later that day, in the afternoon I stopped by a yard sale a few blocks from my apartment. Bored, I walked among the clutter on the lawn. Near some chairs and tables, I noticed a small, gray, table about three feet high, a foot wide and three feet long made of heavy metal. The owner said it was a stand for an old line printer used in his office many years ago. I paid the ten dollar price and took it back to my apartment. At the apartment I took out my husband's tool box. Before going to prison he had worked as a mechanic and handyman; his tool collection was impressive. I used a compass to draw a one and a half inch circle in the center of the table top then began to cut it out using a drill and hacksaw. By early evening I had a neat hole through the table, the edges rounded off with a file and fine sandpaper, my castration stool was finished! At a nearby kitchen specialty store I purchased a knife intended for chopping herbs and vegetables, it had two handles, one on either side.

Three days later Teresa was back in the city, taking Duncan to his counselling sessions. She dropped by and told me that Duncan was enthusiastic about her doing his castration; it was the only thing he had to keep him going as his counselling wasn't doing much good and his parole officer was giving him a hard time about it. I showed Teresa my castration stool and the knife I had purchased. She hugged me and told me that for the next two weeks Duncan would not be attending his sessions since his counsellor was going out of town to a conference. If she was going to go ahead with her plans it would have to be in the next couple of days.

The next day, early in the morning I got the call. "This is Teresa, can we do what we talked about this evening?" she asked. "Sure" I replied, "Everything is ready, have you discussed this with Duncan?" She said she had and we agreed to meet around seven.

At a few minutes to seven, the buzzer sounded and I let Teresa and Duncan into the apartment. Duncan had taken a couple of the happy pills his doctor had prescribed for him and was in good spirits. Teresa took him into the bathroom, gave him a towel and soap and started the shower. After fifteen minutes, the shower stopped and Teresa and me entered the bathroom. Duncan was naked, his body fit from working out in the prison gym with an impressive penis that was five inches long and thick, even when flaccid. His testicles were large and hung low from the heat of the shower. While he sat on the edge of the tub, Teresa gently shaved his scrotum and perineum with a disposable razor. I had brought the castration stool in and placed it near the center of the bathroom, under it a large bowl, to the side some pressure dressing, disinfectant and the knife which I had sterilized with boiling water. Teresa had explained to Duncan that she couldn't use any anaesthetic, it was difficult to obtain without a doctor's order. Duncan understood this and only asked for one thing; he wanted one last blow job before he lost his testicles.

Both of us helped Duncan into a seated position on the castration stool. Teresa took a piece of gauze saturated in disinfectant and cleaned his scrotum, penis and the insides of both thighs. As she held him from behind I worked his testicles through the hole in the stool, first his left then his right, pouring a bit of disinfectant around to create a sterile field. Down on my hands and knees, I grasped his scrotum from below and worked the testicles down. The cold metal had made his scrotum contract a bit, so I warmed it with my hair dryer, all the time massaging and stretching the skin. By pulling downward, his testicles hung about five inches under the stool. Teresa had already begun to fellate Duncan, taking his glans in her mouth. She worked it back and forth, his eyes closed, he grasped the stool behind him with his hands to support himself. I saw the veins of his penis buldge, it became thick and hard as she pushed more and more of its increasing length into her mouth. I could her the wet suction of her mouth, she opened it and ran her tongue down and around the shaft then plunged the entire length into her mouth, her lips meeting the thick base of his penis, her nose tickled by his pubic hair. With one hand I gave her the knife, which she held under the stool one hand on each handle, Duncan's erect penis in her mouth. Faster and faster Teresa fellated Duncan while I kept his scrotum under tension, massaging his testicles downward. He arched his back and began to rock slightly on his hips, signalling his impending orgasm. Teresa released his penis from her mouth, supporting his dark purple swollen glans on her outstretched tongue which she moved skillfully around under the glans. Duncan groaned and a jet of semen shot out of his penis onto Teresa's tongue and into her open mouth. At that instant she tightened her grip on the knife and pulled it forward, severing Duncan's scrotum. Duncan gasped. I felt the tension give way and then felt sticky, liquid warmth. Looking down at my hand I saw it held Duncan's scrotum and was covered with his fresh bright red blood. Dropping it into the bowl, Teresa and me helped Duncan onto a matress pad on the floor of the bathroon where we inspected then carefully dressed his wound. The sharp knife had worked well, a nice sharp dissection without any loose scraps of skin. Duncan was wrapped in a blanket and put into bed. Meanwhile I took the bowl containing his scrotum out to the kitchen.

I was examining the contents of the bowl when Teresa walked in. The scrotum had shrunken quite a bit and was covered in blood so I rinsed it in water under the tap. Placing my thumbs in the severed neck of the scrotum, I used my fingers to force the testicles out where I could see them. Each was covered with a tough, white layer of tissue and was attached to the inside of the scrotum by a white cord. Using my teeth to bite through the cord, I freed each testicle and placed them on a plate, handing the now empty scrotum to Teresa. Each testicle was a bit over one and a quarter inches long and about three-quarters of an inch in diameter. I placed the plate in my microwave oven, set the timer for thirty-five seconds and pressed the start button. As we watched through the window on the microwave, the testicles began to swell up almost immediately. At twenty-six seconds, the first one split open releasing a burst of steam, followed an instant later by the second. We took out the plate, shelled each testicle out of its tough white covering. Teresa and I consumed one each. The texture was somewhat like that of liver, firm but slightly granular, the taste sort of meaty musky sweet.

That night, as Duncan slept beside us, Teresa and I had passionate sex. I'm not sure if it was just the intensity of what we had just done, or if it had something to do with the hormones in testicles we had consumed but our sex had a raw wild heat that neither of us had ever experienced before. We finally dozed off as the sun rose in the eastern sky.

Duncan and Teresa stayed at my apartment for a couple of days while he recuperated from his ordeal. None problems we had feared had occurred, the wound was clean and healed quickly and without incident. I cleaned off the stool and knife, placed them in the back of the closet. My husband, Martin, was due for parole in one week.

When I went to pick up Martin from Briscoe, Teresa and Duncan came along. It was early in the afternoon so we went through San Antonio to the small town where Teresa and Duncan lived. All of us sat around in the backyard, drinking beer and celebrating. During the afternoon, Duncan told Martin what had taken place. At first Martin was taken aback, but after a little while he became used to what had happened to Duncan.

A few days after his parole, Martin told me he wanted to be castrated like Duncan. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to prison, especially with the three-strike law hanging over his head. What was worrying him too was the judge that sentenced him had not forced the state to provide the same counselling that Duncan had, leaving Martin entirely to his own devices. Martin had made his decision, he wanted it all off.

It was Friday. I called Teresa and we decided to operate on Martin the next day, Saturday, using the same procedure that we had used for Duncan. Late in the afternoon, Teresa and Duncan arrived at our apartment. I had already arranged the necessary equipment in the bathroom. Duncan preferred not to take any part, leaving it up to Teresa and myself. Around seven o'clock Martin undressed and took a shower. Like Duncan, working out in the prison gym had put plenty of muscle on his lean frame. His penis was long, about average thickness, his scrotum and testicles hung low in the hot, moist air after the shower. I shaved his shaft and scrotum with a disposable razor, saving the coarse, curly strands of hair in a small bowl. We helped Martin onto the castration stool; I gently forced his testicles through the hole, then with Teresa pulling from below on his scrotum to hold it out of the way, I forced his limp penis through. Gently massaging and pulling, we managed to get all of his genitals through the hole, hanging below the stool. Now he was leaning forward with his hands in front of him grasping the edges of the stool. I took his glans between my thumb and forefinger, squeezing and rubbing it, bringing him to an erection. The erection helped to lock his genitals in place giving a better chance at a good cut. I leaned under the stool and took his glans in my mouth, fellating him, getting his erection rock hard. It took a few minutes until I felt him start to orgasm, he began to rock slightly, but with the erection and scrotum through the small hole in the stool, it was impossible for him to come. Teresa handed me the knife and I went in front of him, placing the sharp edge of the blade against the rear of his scrotum. Teresa had both her hands around his scrotum and penis, pulling them down. As I looked Martin in the eyes, I slid the knife smoothly forward, Teresa let out a surprised squeal, Martin sat upright, the severed stump of his penis shooting out a hot jet of semen and blood. Quickly, we cleaned and bandaged his wound and put him on the bed.

As with Duncan's testicles, Teresa and I microwaved and ate them. Teresa took Martin's penis and put it in a Tupperware container in the fridge. Duncan was looking after Martin in the bedroom, Teresa and I decided to spend the night on the foldout bed in the livingroom. Like before, the intensity of the situation increased our sexual appetite, made our orgasms more lush, long and intense. Around midnight, Teresa took me by the hand and lead me into the kitchen. She took out the container with Martin's penis in it. Using a metal skewer she made a small hole down the middle, full length of each of the cavernous corpus, then enlarged it with a small, thin knife she had brought along. During all of this she didn't remove any tissue, just made a hole. From a paper bag she produced a couple of pieces of hard pepperoni sausage about one-half inch in diameter. She dipped the rounded end of the sausage in a bit of olive oil and then forced it into the left cavernous corpus. As it moved down the shaft, the corpus

expanded to erect size. She repeated this on the right side and then used a smaller diameter hard sausage to expand and stiffen the urethra. After trimming off the ends of the sausage, Martin's disembodied penis was once again fully erect. She rubbed the outside with a light coating of olive oil then placed the penis on a microwave tray and put it in the oven, set it for forty-five seconds and hit the start button. During the cooking process, steam rose from the penis, fat dripped from the ends of the sausage. At the end of cooking, the penis was still the same size but now heated all the way through. Teresa picked up the penis and with some thick tough thread and a large sewing needle, attached it to a plastic disk that fit her dildo belt. By the time she finished it had cooled enough that we could proceed. First I strapped on the belt and fucked my friend Teresa with Martin's penis. The warm, oiled organ slid neatly in and out of her tight, wet vagina. Both of us orgasmed several times. After a short rest, it was my turn to receive. Teresa strapped on the penis and penetrated me. It felt like Martin, I recognized the shape and feel, but I felt Teresa too, her warmth and passion. Again we orgasmed again and again, finally falling together, our hot, sweaty bodies, arms and hair intermingling. The penis was just inches from my face, I took the warm flesh into my mouth, savoring it for the last time before I bit off the glans. A trickle of fat and juice ran out the severed end. Detaching the penis from the harness, I held it up so Teresa could take a bite. Bite by bite we consumed Martin's penis, lying there in the dark living room, silent, except for our breathing and chewing.