Tim's Last Orgasm 11: Awakenings And Rude Awakenings

When Tim awoke, a few seconds later in his mind, he was in a fuzzy, surreal world. He was aware of people moving about him, a very distant distorted female voice calling his name, and there was the feeling of movement, warmth and wetness around his thighs as if someone were bathing him. "Hello, Tim," the fuzzy female voice said, "welcome back to the world of the living."

"What... did something go wrong?" he asked. He couldn't possibly have been asleep long enough for anyone to do anything to him, and as the sensations of someone bathing his thighs came into focus, he could feel his erection growing. Still as his mind began to clear and his vision came into focus, he knew he was no longer in the operating room. Panic set in instantly. He knew, he just knew, that something had happened and he hadn't had the surgery. Still, in spite of the panic Tim felt an odd sense of relief that he still had his penis.

"Everything went fine, Tim," the voice said as a pretty Mexican face came into view. "The surgery took a little over four hours, but it's all done."

"But I can feel... I mean..."

"You're having a phantom erection, Tim. That's probably the first of many."

"What... what time is it?" he asked.

"Almost two thirty. Don't try to get up or you'll be sick. Just lie there and relax for a little while."

Tim had no intentions of trying to get up. He was still woozy, but more than that he was experiencing the most pleasurable feelings from his legs and groin that he'd felt for a long time. A nurse was busily washing the blood and antibiotic stains from his skin, at least that part of it that wasn't bandaged. As discreetly as he could, he tentatively ran his hand down to his pubic area and encountered a thick pad of bandages, but even through the thickness of the padding he could feel that there was nothing there. A wave of... of what he wasn't sure passed through him. Was it pleasure? Shock? Remorse? Whatever it was, it was certainly profound! As he continued his explorations he found his balls, under the bandages, then below them the plastic tube of the catheter exiting his body. "Everything meet with your approval?" the nurse said pleasantly.

"Seems to be, Ma'am," Tim said. Even in his semi-conscious state he could feel himself blushing a bright red. "What's that bulge on my leg?"

"That's your drainage bag," the nurse explained. "The doctor put two drainage tubes on either side of the site where your penis was, to drain off excess fluids and blood. He'll tell you how to take care of it, but please remember to save anything that comes out of it."

"I'm still bleeding?" Tim said with a fair degree of apprehension. The phrase "PENIS WAS" was still ringging in his ears.

"That's why he wants you to save anything that comes out of that bag. A small amount of bleeding is normal, but if you bleed too much he'll know right away. Are you in any pain, Tim?"

Tim wasn't - he was still far too drunk to feel much of anything, but he was also elated that he had accomplished his goal. At the same time he felt a sense of loss, almost grief for the body part he had loved so much. Now all he had to do was to get used to it and learn how to live with it all; or perhaps we should say WITHOUT it. He lay in the recovery room on a gurney for a little over an hour, and then he was wheeled into what appeared to be a pretty typical hospital room. "Do I have to stay here tonight?" he questioned as he was helped into the bed, his anxiety level growing again.

"Only if complications develop," the nurse said. "We do not staff the clinic at night unless someone is too sick to go home. You are expecting someone to come for you, right?"

"Yes, Ma'am. He said he would be here around 4."

Tim was suddenly ravenously hungry, but he was told that they had nothing but coffee, water and soft drinks. He settled for a coke, but before it had come he had gone back to sleep. He was awakened a little after 5 by an excruciating tearing sensation in his crotch. "YEOUCH!" he yelped.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Dr. Smith said. "Sorry that pulled a bit, I was just changing your bandages before Carlos takes you back to the hotel. How do you feel, Tim?"

"I was feeling fine, till you ripped the rest of my crotch out," he replied grumpily.

"I guess you're ok," the doctor said with a grin. "It's always a good sign when a patient gets grouchy. Would you like to see my handiwork?"

Tim did indeed want to see the job that had been done on him, but he was sorry after he'd taken a look. To his untrained eye, the entire area was a mass of blood and scab, bruises and stitches. True, there was no penis there, but the entire area looked to Tim as if it had been blown off with explosives! "Doesn't look like much right now I admit," Dr. Smith said. "Believe me, Tim, I think you're gonna be pleased. It'll look a lot better in a few days, and within two or three weeks most of the bruising will be gone and you will be thrilled. I think this is one of the best jobs we've ever done!"

"If you say so," Tim said. The pain killer had worn off enough now that he was having a fair bit of pain even with no one touching the site. Add to that the fact that the doctor was poking and probing around, washing away some of the bloody mess, and applying some sort of ointment, and Tim was having a great deal of difficulty lying still and not screaming. The doctor noticed that too and ordered the nurse standing and watching to get him another shot.

"I'll be giving you some pills for pain when you leave," he said. "The pain will go down a lot in the next few hours, but there's no sense having you suffer any more than necessary. This shot will last you well into the evening, so I'll just hold off putting your bandages back on until it kicks in. It's better to leave it exposed to the air anyway."

"I appreciate that," Tim answered. His mood was beginning to soften, or perhaps he had just given up trying to get a confrontation going. Dr. Smith had completely ignored his snarls and gripes, and just went about his business as cheerfully as ever. Before Tim's bandages had been reapplied, Carlos arrived pushing an empty wheelchair. "Hey, y'all!" he said cheerfully as he came bouncing into the room, obviously trying to emulate his American buddy.

"We're not done here, Carlos!" Dr. Smith said in a stern voice. "You know better than to come barging in like that!"

"Oh... sorry Dad. I'm really sorry, Tim," Carlos said as it seemed to Tim he almost cowered.

"It's all right," Tim said, and then wondered why he'd said it. He had felt an instant surge of anger at the way Dr. Smith had spoken to his son. Dr. Smith looked at him sharply, then let it pass. "I've got to get used to people seeing me the way I am now, so I might as well get started," Tim offered weakly in an effort to defuse the situation. But Carlos didn't look. He moved himself to the far side of the room and waited while his father applied new bandages to Tim's wounds, his head down.

"Why the wheelchair?" Tim questioned as the doctor worked. "I thought you were gonna help me walk to the hotel?"

"I had to cut deeper than I'd planned," the doctor explained. "I don't think you'll be able to walk that far tonight without a great deal of discomfort."

"I can walk ok," Tim said confidently.

"You're free to try," the doctor said. "But just to make sure, why don't you show us how well you can walk by walking from here over to the wheelchair? Carlos will help you." Tim did. As soon as the doctor had finished with the bandages and emptied his drainage bag, Tim had Carlos help him get into his pants, then gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up shakily. He found he was a lot more steady on his feet than he'd expected, so he took a small step. Searing pains shot up from his groin and Tim yelped.

"It's gonna get progressively worse as that shot wears off," Carlos warned. "You'd better let me get the wheelchair."

"I can walk," Tim repeated stubbornly. It was a principle thing now, and he was still pissed off at Dr. Smith for having yelled at Carlos. He took another step, and screamed. The intense pain caused him to almost crumple to the floor, but his left arm was around Carlos' sturdy shoulders and held him up. "Ok," Tim said weakly after the pain had died down, "I get the point. We'll use the wheelchair."

The nurse attached a large plastic bag to Tim's calf, then attached the tube from his catheter. She showed Tim how to empty the bag by opening the small valve at the bottom, then gave him a large container to measure his urine, plus a smaller container into which he was to drain his drainage bag. "I'll be staying with him for tonight," Carlos volunteered. "I'll bring him back early in the morning to be checked."

"You don't have to do that, Carlos," Tim protested as he shot a quick nervous glance at the doctor.

"It's ok, Tim, I don't mind," Carlos said. Tim was relieved that he wouldn't have to spend the evening alone, and Dr. Smith hadn't seemed to react at all, so Tim accepted the offer. As soon as he was fully dressed, minus his briefs which the doctor instructed Carlos to help him into back at the hotel, Carlos wheeled the chair through the clinic and out the front door.

"Anything wrong?" Carlos inquired as he helped Tim out of the wheelchair and onto his bed.

"Wrong? What do ya mean wrong?" Tim asked neutrally.

"Well, you didn't say two words all the way back from the clinic. You feeling ok? Havin' much pain?"

"I'm fine," Tim said. "Guess I'm still a little pissed at Dr. Smi... err your father. The way he snapped at you when you came in with that wheelchair..."

"Don't let that bother you," Carlos said with a chuckle. "I'm used to it. He gets really upset when I do somethin' stupid around one o' his patients."

"But you didn't do anything stupid! You just came to get me like you said you would."

"But you were naked and uncovered on the bed, Tim. Barging in on a scene like that is a real no-no far as my dad is concerned. He's a great doctor, Tim, and he won't stand for anything less then the best care for his patients. I deserved to get snapped at!"

Tim eyed his friend closely, that same beautiful smile on his face. "I hardly think it makes any difference, after what happened last night..." he said.

"But my dad doesn't know that, Tim. Far as he's concerned, you're just another patient."

"You mean you didn't tell him? But I thought..."

"I told you, I'm gonna pick my time to tell him that. I've gotta sort out my own feelings before I tell anybody, and I certainly wouldn't have told him before you went into surgery!"

"Well, I just mighta told him, Carlos," Tim said as he remembered the incident in the OR.

Naturally Carlos wanted to hear all about it, and Tim told him. "I didn't say anything, at least not in words," he told him. "But I could feel myself turning red as fire. I wanted to say I was sorry or something, but I was so high at that point I could hardly remember my own name! But all he had to do was put two and two together."

"Forget it, Tim. Even without fooling around, what I had to do to you to prep you was pretty embarrassing. I seriously doubt that my dad thought anything about it. But even if he did, well, that saves me the trouble of telling him, doesn't it?"

Tim used his cell phone to check in with Larry while Carlos used the hotel phone to order something to eat for the two of them. To call Chicago from Cancun with a cell phone is obscenely expensive, so the boys had agreed that Tim would call morning and night, person to person, and ask for himself. That would be his signal to Larry that all was well. Anything else was an automatic signal for Larry to sound the alarm. Of course, when Carlos heard Tim ask for himself, he was immediately curious. Tim had to explain after he was off the phone that he and Larry had devised an elaborate set of signals so that he could call without paying for it. "Yes, this is Timothy Chandler," the voice came from the other end.

"Larry, what the hell are you doing?" Tim demanded when they were connected.

"Come on, man! You don't think I'm gonna stew for another ten days do ya? Did you do it?"

"It... it's done, Larry," Tim said with some trepidation. He suddenly realized that this would be the first of many incidents that he would be telling someone that he no longer had a penis. Predictably there was a long pause. "Larry? You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, Tim. I guess... I mean... I knew why you'd gone down there and all, but I guess I never believed you'd really do it. It's kinda shocking I guess. So how ya doing?"

"I'm fine, Lar. I got a little pain but that's to be expected. Larry, is this... I mean... I hope... Larry, I hope this isn't gonna make a difference between you and me. I mean, I'm still me, Larry. I don't think I could stand it if we... I mean, please don't hate me..."

"I don't hate you, man!" Larry said. "I love you, Tim! I just wish... I mean, I guess I never thought you'd go through with it. It's just a bit of a shock that you've really done it. But you keep callin' ‘cause if you miss a call I'm gonna sound the alarm big time! If you miss a call just once you're gonna see Cancun surrounded by the National Guard! Just hurry up and get home safe, ok?"

"Ok, Larry. I love you too, man! Bye."

Carlos was still eyeing Tim curiously as he broke the connection, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. "Your best friend?" he inquired.

"Yeah," Tim replied.

"Sounds like he's more than a best friend," Carlos suggested.

"Yeah, Carlos, he's so much more than just a best friend you wouldn't believe it. We've been friends forever! He's kinda... well he's not very thrilled that I had the surgery. Why the fuck did I have to go and do it anyway? God, I don't think I can live if I lose Larry! He's always been... well, we have always shared everything! He's more like a brother than a friend. I never thought..."

"Tim," Carlos said as he took both Tim's hands in his, "it's gonna be all right. If he's that good a friend, he'll get over it. I gotta admit when I first saw you in that hospital bed, your crotch all stitched up and your beautiful cock gone, I was shocked even though I knew what I was gonna see and had seen it before. Even though my own father did the cutting, it was still a shock to see it with my own eyes. But like you told Larry, you're still you. Like you told me, you just did what you had to do, an' there's no point in regretting it now ‘cause there's nothing you can do about it. You told me you knew it wasn't gonna be easy, but it's done now so you'd better be looking on the bright side."

"Yeah, you're right, Carlos. I'll be ok. Thanks, man."

Tim did not have a real fun time that first night. When the powerful drug that had been injected began to wear off, his entire crotch seemed to catch fire and burn white hot. The pain pills, which were themselves powerful enough to cause him to become dizzy and disoriented, still were no match for the searing sensation of being ripped apart in his groin. He tried not to let Carlos know, but Carlos had seen patients in his condition before so he knew without being told. Carlos soon had Tim lying naked on his back with the bandages gently removed. The open air, he'd told him, would help alleviate the pain and would dramatically speed the healing process. Tim could feel no difference as the last of the bandages came off, but he trusted his friend so he cooperated.

Every hour on the hour, Carlos applied a moisturizing creme to the entire area. He apologized as he smeared the substance generously all over Tim's crotch because he knew he was causing even more pain; however he explained that the creme contained a topical anaesthetic, an antibiotic, and an agent to prevent the stitches from drying out, which would have caused them to shrink and become even more painful. Tim was astonished at how gentle Carlos was in applying the ointment. "You should be a doctor," he commented. "Your touch is so gentle it feels almost good, in spite of the pain!"

"That's what I'm plannin' to do," Carlos answered. "My dad says I have to learn not to get so emotionally involved though. I don't know if I can do that or not. It just kills me to see someone in pain!"

By morning, Tim was feeling a lot better. He even managed to walk to the bathroom to wash his hands and face, then walk back to his bed where Carlos helped him drain his pee bag and little drainage sac. By 7 AM Tim was back in the wheelchair being pushed up the street to the Sanchez Clinic. They still hadn't eaten, but Carlos promised to take him out for a good breakfast once his father gave the ok.

"You're looking much better than I expected this morning," Dr. Smith said cheerfully as Carlos helped Tim get up on an examination table. Tim noticed that the doctor had only nodded briefly to Carlos, even though the boy had been out all night.

"I'm glad you think so," Tim said with a forced smile. "I feel like I haven't slept for a month."

"The pain should be getting a lot better now," the doctor said.

"Yeah, it is, Doctor. It wasn't that bad really, but your son kept waking me up and smearing grease all over me."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said as he removed the bandages Carlos had so carefully applied only an hour earlier. "That's the price you have to pay for having the best nurse in all of Cancun."

The doctor was obviously in a better mood this morning, or was it just that Tim was feeling better and was a little more receptive to something positive? Whatever the reason, Tim was gratified that Carlos had received a much deserved accolade from the exchange. After a quick examination, then an analysis of the contents of Tim's urine and the red discharge from his drainage bag, the doctor proclaimed him healing nicely. "You may eat anything you feel like," he said. "Just don't overdo it. The longer you can go without filling your intestines with waste that has to come out, the better off you're gonna be."

"No problem, Doctor," Tim replied with a grin - the first grin he'd been able to manage since he'd awakened from his surgery, "I've got no desire to strain that area any time soon."

Tim wanted to discard the wheelchair, so he walked out of the clinic in spite of Carlos' protests. Every step he took hurt like hell, but he had to get moving if he was going to start his research project any time soon. The two boys walked to a nearby diner and had a hearty breakfast, which tasted like a real feast to Tim, then they went back to the hotel. Once in his room, Tim was again ordered to strip from the waist down and Carlos again removed his bandages. He sat up for an hour or so, going over some of the documents that the clinic staff had gathered for him. There was some new information, but not as much as Tim had hoped. "No problem," Carlos said. "Soon as you're ready, I got a whole bunch of historians at the university willing to talk to you."

"How'd you do that?" Tim wanted to know.

"It helps to have a father on the faculty," Carlos answered. "My dad teaches part time, and he knows most of the professors." Tim decided he didn't want to know what Dr. Smith taught. He was obviously something of an authority on surgery such as Tim had just had, and if this was what the man taught the fact would be well known, and the men he was planning to interview would know why he was here. That was a little too much publicity too soon to suit Tim.

By the third day, Tim was feeling well enough to begin his interviews. He spent two days at a local university, getting advice on locations to visit, what to look for, and what questions to ask. He learned a lot about the ancient Maya, in fact far more than he wanted to know. He learned to his horror that human sacrifice was a very large part of the Maya culture, much as it had been in Aztec society. He had known about the bloodletting ceremonies, but they were trivial and negligible because the victims usually performed the act upon themselves and almost always survived. The total and complete sacrifices, on the other hand, were both involuntary and usually brutal. To further traumatize the young researcher, he learned that the preferred victims of these sacrificial ceremonies were children or teenage boys!

For reasons he did not understand, Tim's active imagination soon had him dreaming about the things he'd learned, and several times a night he awoke from a nightmare in which he had been held in front of an altar while his body was dismembered. He was so traumatized that he decided on another course of action. The libraries were full of valuable information, so he busied himself studying the arts and crafts of the Maya, hoping to find links to the Aztecs. There again he ended up being very frustrated. There were links and similarities, but he discovered that there had been a lot of trading between the two nations, which could well explain all his theories. He was discouraged, but he persevered anyway. Carlos had almost never left his side during his recovery, until after the seventh day Tim insisted that he go home for the night lest his parents think he'd been permanently abducted. Tomorrow was to be Tim's last day at the clinic. He would have his stitches and his catheter removed; he'd already had the drainage tubes taken out two days ago.

Carlos had been completely clinical the entire time of Tim's recovery, and it was getting on Tim's nerves. Finally Tim decided, as he waited in the clinic for his final appointment, that he would bring matters to a head today. He suffered another slight embarrassment as he was ushered to a treatment room. "You're walking very well, considering the surgery you had last week," the nurse said loudly as they left the waiting room. In Tim's mind, everyone in the room knew exactly what he'd had done, and the nurse's comment had served to confirm any doubts anyone might have.

One consolation was that Tim had been lying on an examination table with his crotch exposed so much during the past ten days that he didn't give it a second thought any more. Without being told, he slipped out of his sneakers and dropped his pants, then climbed on the table and removed his briefs. "You're well trained," Dr. Smith quipped as he walked into the room.

"I should be," Tim shot back. "It seems that no one here is interested in any other part of my body."

The doctor removed the bandages, much smaller now than they had been the first day or two, then did the ‘Hmmmm...,' ‘Uh-huh,' and ‘Ah yes' routine that all doctors seem to do. Tim chuckled to himself as he wondered if it was a technique they all learned in medical school. "You're healing very well, Tim," the doctor remarked. "Is there any pain now?"

"No, sir," Tim replied happily, "none at all, except when I forget and spread my legs too far apart of take an extra long step."

"Good," the doctor said. "We have one more less than pleasant task, and then we can declare you ready to go. I'm going to remove the sutures now, which if you feel at all will only tickle. Then we have to remove that catheter, and after all this time you might have some slight incontinence. If so it should clear up in a few days."

Tim, who had been watching everything the doctor was doing, decided that removing his catheter was something he didn't have to see. He put his head back on the pillow and looked straight up at the ceiling as he felt the tube begin to slide down his urethra. To his surprise, the passage didn't seem nearly as sensitive as it had been when it was inside his penis, so pulling out the rubber tube was, as he told the doctor, "a piece of cake." The doctor applied a thin coating of ointment to the entire area, then showed Tim how to keep his new opening clean. "You'll have to do this for the rest of your life," the doctor said. "It shouldn't be that big a deal though, women learn to do it when they're a lot younger than you are now. We killed the hair follicles in the area because hair around there would make it nearly impossible to keep it clean. If any hair should start growing, you should keep it shaved or have it removed with electrolysis."

"What will I do if my bladder control doesn't come back?" Tim inquired nervously.

"You should know by the time you leave for home how much of a problem that's gonna be," the doctor replied. "If it does turn out to be a problem, you'll either have to stay and let me deal with it or see a urologist back home."

"I can't do either of those!" Tim stated flatly.

"You'll have to," the doctor said just as flatly. "Your only other choice will be to wear some sort of diaper. But let's wait to see if we have a problem before we worry about it."

Tim shuddered as he considered the possibility of wearing a diaper for the next year until he was 18 and could go to a urologist on his own. Nevertheless he still considered the result worth everything that he'd gone through and might go through in the future. He fondled his vacant pubic area and felt a thrill as he felt nothing but the stubble of his hair starting to grow back, his scrotum and testicles still there, still intact and working. "I love it," he said to the doctor, almost in tears. "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, Tim," the doctor said. "You've been an excellent patient."

"We can thank Carlos for that," Tim said. "That reminds me, thank you so much for assigning him to take care of me. I wasn't expecting that."

Doctor Smith looked at Tim sharply. "Is that what he told you?" he questioned. "Did he say he'd been assigned to stay with you?"

"Unhhh... well, no, I guess he didn't tell me that, I just kinda assumed it. I mean, he was with me so much, and I know he works for you here at the clinic..."

"I didn't assign him at all since your surgery, Tim," the doctor said, his eyes still boring into Tim's. "In fact we had something of a disagreement, because he took the entire time off, much to my objections. He said he would run emergency errands for me, but other than that he wasn't working until you were gone. He said you needed him and he wasn't about to let a friend down."

Tim felt truly humbled at the doctor's revelation. Not only had Carlos defied his father's wishes and attended to him faithfully, he had foregone almost two weeks' salary, which Tim knew was important to Carlos. Tim also remembered times, several of them, when he had been in more pain than he'd planned on and he'd been less than kind to his Mexican friend. Now he realized just how much of a friend he had!

"Put these on," the doctor instructed, bringing Tim out of his reverie. "At the end of the day you'll know how much of an incontinence problem you've got."

"Training panties?" Tim questioned.

"Not exactly," the doctor replied. "They are made for incontinent adults, adolescent bedwetters, anyone with a wetting problem, and they will provide support for your testicles so they won't tend to pull on the incisions. They're made to be similar to briefs, as close as possible and still have absorbent properties. Believe me, it'll be better than peeing your pants because you've still got a long day ahead of you, and I want you to be as active as possible. It they're dry when you take them off tonight, then we'll know you're not going to have a problem."

Tim slipped the panties up his legs and into place. He never would have admitted it to anyone, but they felt good! He could feel the inner absorbent padding next to his still tender crotch, and he was reassured that if he did wet himself, the urine would be contained and not embarrass him. The support to his balls was also a welcome relief from the slight pulling sensation that the doctor assured him would go away in a few days. Until then, he said, it would be important to wear something supportive at all times. Finally Tim removed the legs from his zip-off pants and was again dressed, for the first time in almost two weeks, in shorts and a T-shirt. "Carlos is waiting for you in the waiting room," the nurse said when he was dressed.

"About time," Tim quipped. He felt so incredibly good! The worst was over, he just knew it! Or was it?

"Can I go swimming?" he asked as he was about to leave.

"By all means," the doctor replied. "Actually that's a very good idea, especially if you go in salt water. But please don't exert yourself. Swim easily and slowly, or just soak in the water. And when you come out be sure to put on more ointment until the scars begin to fade. I want you to keep that area moist at all times." Then with that final piece of advice, Tim and Carlos were walking the short distance back to Tim's hotel.

"So, you're all healed," Carlos said with a smile when they were back in the hotel room.

"Yeah, but we gotta talk," Tim said. "Your father told me that you weren't assigned to take care of me at all, that you took the time off. Why, Carlos?" Carlos' face flushed.

"I... I dunno, I just thought you could use my help. I mean, with all the traveling around you wanted to do, all that research and all, and you just recovering from surgery..."

"I appreciate it, Carlos. I mean, I could never have done it without you. But I know you're saving like mad for college, and you've lost two weeks salary, and had a fight with your father in the bargain. He said you've never done anything like that before, so why this time?"

"I thought... I mean... Dammit, Tim, I thought you knew. I love you! I wanted to spend the time with you! In only two days you're gonna be gone, and I'm gonna miss you like crazy!" Before either boy knew what was happening, they were locked in a tight embrace, their lips touching in a long, lingering kiss. This was the first sign of intimacy Carlos had shown since Tim's first night in Cancun, and Tim could feel his friend's excitement pushing against his still tender crotch.

Tim could feel something in his own groin that was remarkably like an erection growing, which of course he knew couldn't happen; nevertheless the feeling was there and very pronounced. "I... I don't know if this is such a good idea," he said when they finally broke their kiss.

"I don't know why not," Carlos said in a pleading voice. "I just want to express my love for you. What could be wrong with that?" he took Tim's right hand and guided it to his raging erection. Tim grasped it, and for the first time since his surgery he felt a deep remorse, realizing that he no longer had what he was holding. Carlos pulled him over to the bed, and very soon they were both lying naked and embracing, kissing, groping.

Tim knew, had known long before his surgery, that he would have to find new ways to satisfy his sexual cravings; but he had never dreamed the need would come to fruition so soon! As he lay on his hotel room bed with Carlos, he had a deep, urgent need to satisfy his lover and himself. He had read many stories of people who could have orgasms without the benefit of penile stimulation, and somewhere deep in his subconscious was the idea that he would be one of these individuals. Right now, though, that was not what was in his mind. What was most important right now was something he had thought of many times, but had only done once in his life. Before either boy knew it, without benefit of discussion or permission, Tim had Carlos' throbbing member in his mouth, and Carlos was writhing on the bed like someone in excruciating pain.

Carlos came quick and hard, almost violent as he filled Tim's mouth to overflowing with his Mexican boy seed. Tim was taken by surprise at the sudden invasion of his mouth by the pungent flavor, the quantity of the orgasm; but he quickly recovered as he discovered that he liked what had happened, liked the taste and the sensation. "Ohhhh man!" Carlos moaned as the storm subsided. "I never felt anything like that in my entire life!"

"Does that mean I might get to do it again?" Tim said as he wiped his chin. He was feeling an urgent need to cum himself, but that need was temporarily abated by the satisfaction that he'd given Carlos so much pleasure. Carlos didn't answer Tim's question, but began caressing his empty crotch after pulling him up on the bed so they could kiss again. "I'm gonna try to get you off," he whispered. "You must be almost outta your mind by now."

"It's ok," Tim said back. It wasn't ok, it wasn't even close to being ok! But Tim didn't want to cause any feelings of guilt in Carlos, and he had come close a couple of times and was confident that, given enough of this intense lovemaking and stimulation he would indeed have an orgasm. He was sadly mistaken. He seemed to come to the edge several times, but he couldn't seem to get over the pinnacle. "It's just gonna take time," he told Carlos as well as himself. "I'm just not used to not having a cock to stimulate me."

Next: XII Farewell To Mexico