Tim's Last Orgasm 17: Another Letter

Tim's depression began late on Christmas night, when he'd read the email from Carlos. He had forgotten about it for two hours as he and Terry made love, over and over. But as enjoyable as it was, Tim couldn't shake the nagging feeling that his brother was only trying to cheer him up. Their lovemaking had taken both boys further than either of them had ever gone before and Tim had really appreciated his brother's efforts; but it wasn't real and they both knew it. It had been an expression of love, brotherly love, and had gone far beyond what is considered normal for any two siblings and they both knew that too. When the boys awoke in the morning, Tim was an entirely different person from the happy excited teen who had got our of bed the day before.

Before anyone else was up in the house, Terry coerced his brother to take him for a ride in Tim's new car. Their parents and Uncle Jason had stayed up very late talking, and Tim knew without being told what the topic had been. His father had undoubtedly tried unsuccessfully to convince his brother that he should settle down and raise a family like all men should, in his opinion. Jason, on the other hand, would have defended his position, equally unsuccessfully, stating that his lifestyle was certainly not for everyone, but for him it was right. Neither would make any progress, but the argument would have gone on for hours, with their mom trying unsuccessfully to change the subject to something more neutral. Nevertheless it served the purposes of Tim and Terry on this particular morning because neither of them was particularly anxious to face their parents.

"This is a really cool car," Terry said after they had driven in silence for almost fifteen minutes. "An' that stereo is killer!"
"Uh-huh," Tim answered. "Dad filled it up with gas too. He really is a great dad, Terry. He's much better than I deserve."
"Better than you deserve? I dunno why you'd say a thing like that, Tim. You're pretty great too, ya know."
"Ter, I've made a horrible mistake, man! And now I gotta live with it. I hate keeping important things from Mom and Dad, but it'd only be selfish of me to tell them, an' it certainly wouldn't do any good."
"Tim," Terry said after a long pause, "I thought you'd made a horrible mistake too when you first told me what you'd done, but the more I get used to the idea, and the more I think about how happy you've been about it, an' sometimes I think you're even proud of it when you have to get naked in showers and stuff, I don't think you made a mistake at all. I think you did what you do best: you saw what you had to do and you did it."
"You don't understand, Terry. You're not gay. You've gotta be in my position to really understand. I used to get hit on in the showers, especially at the Y. There was always someone there wantin' to get it on with me or gawking at me. But all those guys ever wanted was my cock! Now that I don't have one, they're not interested."

Terry shot his brother a look that would wilt a cactus. Fortunately Tim's eyes were on the road and he didn't see it. "You don't think I'm gay?" Terry challenged. "Even after last night? I dunno how you can say that."
"Last night was great, Terry! But that was another mistake on my part. I shouldn't have let that happen. But I appreciate what you were tryin' to do."
"What do you think I was tryin' to do, Tim?" Terry demanded, anger causing his face to turn scarlet. "You think I was just tryin' to make you feel better because of what Carlos did to you? Is that what you think, Tim?"
"Well, not exactly, but..."

"I made love to you, Tim! Plain and simple! I love you and I hate it when you're hurting! I made love to you because I wanted to! And it makes no difference to me if you've got a dick or not. I wanted to make love to YOU, Tim, not any one part of your body! And if I have my way we'll do it again, that is unless you're gonna tell me honestly you didn't like it."
"I can't tell you I didn't like it, Terry. I loved it! But you're my brother, and..."
"It's not like one of us is gonna get pregnant or something. I don't see what harm it did."
"The harm is that it's gonna confuse you, Terry! I told you, I don't think you're gay at all. You've been getting pretty thick with Marlene, and I can see it in your eyes, man! You can't deny that!"
"I'm not even gonna try and deny it. But that don't mean I can't love my brother too. And I'm not gonna get confused, Tim. Please give me a little credit here. I'm not stupid and I'm not a little kid. I made love with you last night because I wanted to and I love you. Or would you rather be goin' with those guys at the Y who don't even want you any more just ‘cause you don't have a cock? You've already told me what they want."
"Now you're gettin' my point, Terry. I'm gay, and I don't have a choice there. But a gay guy without a cock..."
"A gay guy without a cock is no different than a straight guy without a cock, or a gay or straight guy WITH one! There's lots of boys and girls out there that only want your body, and I doubt those that wanna fuck you don't really care if you have one cock or none, or five! But there's also people out there that will love you whatever shape your body is in. You just gotta decide which it is you want. Or maybe you think Carlos dumped you because you don't have..."

"Carlos didn't DUMP me, Terry! We both knew he didn't think he was gay, and we both agreed to leave our options open. He just figured things out and did what he had to do. I guess I was just wishin' more than I realized that it would turn out different."
"So I don't see the problem. It's too bad about Carlos, but if you kinda knew it might turn out this way, why are you suddenly sayin' you made a big mistake?"
"I dunno, Terry. I don't know how to explain it to you. Maybe people just didn't react the way I thought they would. I only know that I should never have had my dick cut off. Carlos understood why I did it because he sees it all the time so it's no novelty to him. But everyone else thinks I'm just some kinda freak, or I want to be a girl, or all sorts of things that are so far off the mark it's laughable. I just..."
"You think you're gonna live your life alone. Well, I for one don't think so. You're a great guy, Tim! You've always been the best big brother a guy could ever ask for, an' if I think so I'm sure there's lots of other guys out there that think so too. You're gonna find someone, Tim, and maybe sooner than you think!"

Tim had very serious doubts that Terry knew what he was talking about, but he decided to drop the subject and appreciate what he had: a pretty great little brother sitting in the passenger's seat of his new car, which in itself was pretty great! And Terry was right about the stereo. When he examined it more closely he realized that his dad, not much on things like audio equipment, had had the standard factory stereo upgraded to the premium sound system. It was great having the good system, but the real benefit was the way it made Tim feel: that his dad had not just gone out and bought a car off the lot. He had put some thought into it, considered what Tim would like, not what he himself would want. But still he couldn't shake his depression.

By the time the two brothers got home, everyone was up and had had their breakfast. "How's the new car?" Uncle Jason asked with a wide smile.
"Awesome!" Tim replied honestly. "Thanks so much, Dad! I never expected..."
"No big deal," his dad said. "Remember, I bought that car for your mom and me as much as for you. It's gonna get you through college, and there'll be no more borrowing your mother's car or mine. Buying that car was an act of self defense."
"No problem, Dad," Tim assured him. "It's a great car and I'll take good care of it, you'll see."

The Chandler family thoroughly enjoyed the holidays and Jason's visit, all except Tim. He became moody and kept to himself a lot. He spent a lot of time at the Y, swimming and working out. It seemed to Jason that his favorite nephew was avoiding him, but no one seemed to know why. Terry knew and tried to reassure his uncle that it was nothing he'd said or done, but Jason wasn't convinced. In his mind Tim was becoming more like his father, which is to say downright disapproving of his lifestyle. Tim was not unpleasant or nasty in any way, he simply wasn't very sociable, and Jason's stories that had always held him spellbound in the past held no interest for him. By the time school started again Tim had got a call from Mr. Nelson, requesting that he work more hours. Tim agreed readily, and then he was almost never home. Now that he had his own transportation he was able to go directly from school to work, and once there he could stay later and still get home in time to do his homework.

Barry Chandler considered the latest development a good one, although he didn't say so to anyone but his wife. He had been quite concerned that his brother would influence his sons negatively, but he'd seemed to have the opposite affect on Tim. And so Tim simply threw himself more and more into his work and school studies, pretty well ignoring all else including his family, his friends, and any activity that required any sort of socializing. His behavior and attitude had hurt his uncle deeply, but Jason kept those feelings to himself. Even the warm hug he received from Tim the day he left for Japan wasn't enough to reassure him that things were ok. It would be a while before Jason learned that Tim's demeanor had nothing to do with him. When he did, it would be under very surprising circumstances.

Less than an hour after Jason had left, the phone rang. "It's for you, honey," their mom said as she handed the phone to Tim.
"I really don't want to talk to anyone," Tim protested.
"You have to now, Dear," Mom said. "I've already told him you're right here." Tim took the receiver reluctantly, expecting it to be Larry or one of his other classmates.

"This is Coach Elliot," a pleasant male voice said when Tim had answered. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I was expecting a call from you by now. Are you ok, Tim?"
"Coach who?" Tim said blankly.
"Todd Elliot," the man repeated. "We met at the Y pool last fall. I was really hoping you'd decided to join the team."

Tim's first reaction was to tell Todd that he couldn't possibly devote long hours in the pool, but something stopped him. Suddenly it occurred to him that this could be his answer. If one were to apply the accepted proposition that one in ten males in at least partly gay, then there should be at least three gay guys on the swim team. Added to that, Tim reasoned, was the fact that gays were usually attracted to good bodies, and everyone knows that swimmers are usually built like Gibraltar. On top of that, Tim presumed, there are all these great bodies almost naked in the pool and totally naked in the shower. Before he had finished his moment's thought, Tim had convinced himself that at least half the team would no doubt be gay.

This was the new Tim! This was the Tim who had decided it was time to move on, to quit crying over what might have been and start working on what will be. This was a very angry Tim; a Tim who would do what he had to do to achieve his goals, both sexual and otherwise. Right now those goals centered around meeting more guys his age - guys with whom he could be intimate. In his anger and frustration, Tim had just expanded the horizons on just what constituted acceptable intimacy. "I'd love to join the team," he heard himself saying. "When can I start?"
"Excellent!" Coach Elliot said. "If you can come tomorrow after school, we can get you started so we can do your time trials as soon as possible. I know the team's important, but I'm a great believer in personal times so I'd like to get some base times as soon as you feel you're up to your present potential. Is that too soon for you?"
"I'll be there," Tim said. He called Mr. Nelson who agreed readily to an adjustment in hours to accommodate what he felt would be really good for Tim: a chance to spend more time with boys his own age.

Tim's fantasies went wild that night, his phantom erection raging painfully, as he gathered his things for tomorrow's first training session. He had already bought a new Speedo, and in fact loved the way he looked in it. There was no hiding the absence of his penis in that skimpy suit, and Tim considered that a benefit, not a liability. He hadn't even considered the possibility that his parents might attend one of his meets, in fact he had come to the point where he was becoming less and less self conscious about his appearance. In that sense, the removal of his male member had indeed been beneficial. He was so turned on by the prospects of his new venture, he was sure tonight was going to be the night he would have that elusive cockless orgasm. He was right, but not in the way he'd expected. Once again, after trying for over an hour, Tim finally went to sleep frustrated; in the morning he had to change his underwear because he had shot a giant load in his sleep.

***************

"Have you heard from Tim lately?" Dr. Smith asked his son.
"Not for over a week," Carlos replied. "He wrote back and said he was ok with it after I told him about Gina and me, but I think it hurt him more than he's letting on. I guess my timing was a little off, but I thought the sooner..."
"That's what I was afraid of," the doctor said. He's still down, isn't he?"
"Maybe a little, Dad. But he'll get over it."

Dr. Smith didn't say much more to his son, but he was deep in thought. Next morning, sitting in his office between patients, he placed a call to Chicago.

******************

School the next day seemed to drag endlessly for Tim. He and his three best friends: Laura, Larry and Terry, all ate together most of the time. Today Tim was more or less his old cheerful self as he related proudly to the group that he had been invited to join the swim team at the Y. "So that's why you were so cheerful last night," Terry said. "Too bad you couldn't tell your own brother! Do you suppose you can get me on the team?"
"I dunno, Ter," Tim said. He did know, he knew that Terry would be welcomed with open arms, but he wanted this venture to be his and his alone. He felt a little guilty for taking such a stand, but he decided to let it ride for a week or two, then if all went well he would add his brother. By that time, he reasoned, if he played his cards right, he would have a lover.

Finally, after what seemed like a month, school was over and Tim hurried to his car. It was snowing rather hard, so Tim drove Terry home, then drove faster than he should have in the slippery conditions to get to the Y on time. Coach Elliot met him at the door, then took him to the locker room to introduce him to the team. Tim was already checking out the room full of hot looking half nude guys as the coach introduced him, saying among other compliments that he thought they would be very pleased when they saw Tim's back stroke. Many of the team approached and shook his hand, telling their names although Tim couldn't remember any of them. His phantom stiffie had kicked into high gear by the time Coach Elliot had left for the pool deck and Tim started to get undressed.

"Hey, Tim," a boy who looked about 17 said as Tim entered the showers, his towel draped over his arm. "My name's Ron, and this queer in the next shower is Dan."
"Hey, Ron, Dan," Tim replied cheerfully as he hung his towel on a hook. His wishful thinking assumed that the term "queer" had been used because Dan was gay, but his rational side knew it was just one of those names teens call each other for no good reason. Suddenly the noisy chatter in the showers fell silent. Tim felt his phantom hardon intensify and his face flush when he realized they were all staring at him.

"You... you sure your name's Tim?" Ron said after an uncomfortable moment of absolute silence.
"Must be," Time answered in a vain attempt to disarm the situation. "That's the name I've been answering to for almost 18 years."
"I woulda thought your name woulda been Dick," Ron observed with a grin.
"Or DickLESS!" said another boy whose name Tim couldn't remember. That comment brought a volley of loud laughter from the entire team.
"My name's Tim," he said angrily, trying not to let his embarrassment show.
"Not any more, DICKLESS," one of the older boys said. Another volley of laughter erupted. They started a chant, repeating Tim's new name over and over: DICKLESS! DICKLESS! DICKLESS!

Tim wanted to turn tail and run. He wanted to deck half a dozen of these sex crazed teenagers. He wanted to sink to the floor and cry as he stood there, seething with anger. Instead he did none of those things. What he did was probably the worst think in the world he could have done, or perhaps the best. "You guys seem awful interested in a guy's equipment," he said loudly. "But don't y'all worry about it, I can perform with the best of you. I don't need a cock to out- perform anybody here!"

The room went completely silent again. Too late, Tim realized that what he'd said could have two possible meanings. It was obvious, at least to Tim, which way his comment had been taken. He tried in vain to think of something to say to recover, something to make it clear that he hadn't been propositioning the whole damned team. There was nothing he could think of that wouldn't simply dig the hole he'd put himself in even deeper. So he steeled himself and headed for a vacant shower head.

In the pool, Tim found himself in an entirely different environment. Coach Elliot was obviously a no-nonsense in-charge coach. He drove his team mercilessly, which was perfectly fine with Tim. The coach was just as obviously a hands-off coach as far as the lockers and showers were concerned. He had to have known at least some of what had happened in the showers, but he had chosen to ignore it and let the boys work it out for themselves. This was also fine with Tim. He wasn't thrilled with the situation he'd put himself in, but he didn't see where the coach coming to his rescue would help very much. All of these things Tim went over in his mind, but the thrill of swimming on the team, knowing he was holding his own with the others his age, seemed to comfort him and he did indeed have a good practice.

By the time practice was over it was snowing really hard, and Tim's pretty little car was absolutely buried. He thought to take advantage of the opportunity and offer a few of his teammates a ride home, but the five boys he approached all thanked him and said they already had a ride. Tim wondered if they were just avoiding him because of the incident in the shower but finally decided that he was just being paranoid, as usual. Besides, he told himself, if they want to avoid me I really don't give a fuck. I'm enjoying the swims which is really why I'm here, so to hell with them! He knew he was lying to himself, that he really had hoped to at the very least make some friends, but he would simply not allow himself to be discouraged by that one incident.

The team practiced eight times per week: four mornings from 6 AM to 7:30, three afternoons from 3:30 to 5, and Saturday mornings from 6 to 9. Tim found the routine grueling, yet satisfying. The incident in the shower was soon more or less forgotten, except for one thing: Tim had two names now. In the pool he was Tim; in the locker rooms and showers, he was Dickless. To his disappointment, if everyone had interpreted his remark to be a sexual challenge as Tim had thought, no one seemed to be falling over himself to accept the challenge.

It was late February when Tim received the letter that threw him even more deeply into depression. The return address said simply "Boy Scouts of America," the postmark was Chicago. Tim immediately concluded that it must somehow have something to do with his indiscretion over three years ago. Fortunately Terry, who'd got home first that day, had the same thought and put the letter in Tim's room before anyone else saw it. "Aren't you gonna open it?" Terry asked after dinner.
"I'm not sure I've got the courage," Tim replied. "Maybe they're gonna have some sort of investigation or something."
"I doubt it, after all this time," Terry observed. "It's not like they're out to get you, or anyone else for that matter. I'll bet it's nothing, or maybe something good, like an apology or something."
"They're not about to admit they're wrong either," Tim returned, "especially when they don't believe they were wrong."
"Well, if it's something bad you'd better open it so you know what they're up to," Terry advised.
"Yeah, I guess you're right." So with shaking hands and held breath, Tim opened the letter.

Dear Mr. Chandler:

The Boy Scouts of America, Troop 491, requests the honor of your presence at a special Court of Honor on Tuesday, April 7, at 7:00 PM. The purpose of this Court of Honor is to promote Scout Nathan Seymore to the highest rank in Souting: the Eagle Scout.

Mr. Seymore has identified you as a significant contributing influence in his achievement, and has expressed his desire to have you witness this ceremony. Please respond at your earliest convenience.

The letter went on to tell the exact location of the ceremony, that dress was formal, and that there would be a meal following. It was signed by Steve Merrit, Scoutmaster.

"Why me?" Tim questioned. "What did I do?"
"Just what the letter said," Terry said. "You made a very big impression on Nathan. He's still always asking about you."
"You knew about this, didn't you?" Tim asked.
"Yeah, I did," Terry confessed. "I didn't know he was gonna invite you by official Boy Scout letter, but I knew he was gonna invite you. But he really wants you there, Tim. It's really important to him."
"Are you gonna be there?" Tim asked.
"Of course! I'm a member of the troop and Nathan's my patrol leader and a good friend. I wouldn't miss it."

"Nathan is a good friend of yours?" Tim questioned. He tried to hide his jealousy, but it came through loud and clear.
"Nathan is one of the nicest guys I know," Terry answered. "Yeah, he and I have been friends ever since he found out you're my brother. He thinks you walk on water, Tim."

"I can't go," Tim said after considering the matter. "I'm afraid I might start to cry or something stupid like that. I wanted that Eagle badge so bad!"
"Nathan knows that, Tim. That's why you gotta go. I know it means a lot to him. He told me he never really cared that much about scouting till he met you. He said it was just something to pass the time and his mother had more or less made him go, but you inspired him.
"Yeah, I inspired him all right," Tim said bitterly. "I inspired him to almost get himself kicked out of the troop. Some inspiration!"
"He certainly doesn't look at it that way," Terry countered. "Actually he kinda expected that you might not want to go. He said if you're not there he might not accept the badge at all."
"That's crazy!" Tim exclaimed. "He wouldn't..."
"Don't be too sure, big brother. Nathan's 15 now, and he's got a lot more confidence than he used to have, and he's got a mind of his own. He's still pissed at Mr. Merrit for what he did to you. I really think you should go, Tim."

Tim promised to think about it, but a week later he was still doing nothing but thinking about it. Finally one evening just as he was finishing his homework, the phone rang. "It's for you, Tim," his mother said.

Tim, assuming it was Larry, picked up the receiver. "About time you called, shit-for-brains," he said cheerfully. "Did you get that Physics assignment done, or are you waiting for me to do it so you can copy it as usual?"
"Uhhh... Tim?" a somewhat confused voice came back; a voice that Tim did not know. It was the beautiful baritone voice of a young teenager that had changed recently from the soprano of a small boy.
"Yes, this is Tim. Sorry, I thought you were someone else. Who is this?"
"It's... it's Nathan Seymore. Hi, Tim."

"Nathan!" Tim exclaimed. "Man, it's good to hear from you! How are ya?"
"I'm ok, Tim. Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you got the letter about my Eagle Scout Court of Honor."
"Yeah, I got it a few days ago. Congratulations, Nathan. I'm glad you've made it. Somehow I knew you would."
"Thanks, Tim. So, can you come? It's still early enough we can change the date if that's a problem."
"I dunno, Nathan," Tim said, trying to stall. "I'm not sure how Merrit will feel about me being there. I mean..."
"Screw him," Nathan said, the bitterness evident in his voice. "It's my Court of Honor and I said I wanted you to come. He did sign the letter, didn't he?"
"Yeah, he signed it."
"Well, you know Merrit. If he didn't want you there, he wouldn't have signed it at all. Please come, Tim? My parents can't come, and you're the only other person that means that much to me. Please?"
"Well... yeah, I think I can come, Nathan," Tim said reluctantly. He had pretty well decided that he wasn't going, but there was a pleading, a longing in his friend's voice that he remembered from when they had been Scouts together. There was just something about this kid... and now his own parents weren't going to their own son's Eagle Scout ceremony? No question about it, he HAD to go! Nathan seemed really pleased at Tim's answer and said so, at least five times before they hung up.

"What's goin' on, Ter?" Tim demanded when he was off the phone. "Nathan told me that his parents aren't going to his Eagle Scout ceremony. Man, that's a really big deal, and his parents aren't going? What kinda situation is he in anyway?"
"I don't know," Terry replied honestly. "I know his mom is real sick a lot. A bunch of us like to go to the playground and throw a ball around after Scout meetings, and sometimes we stay in the church hall and play floor hockey, but Nathan never does. He always says he has to get right home because his mother is sick. Some of the guys have been sayin' his mom's a drunk, and I'm not even sure he's got a father, ‘cause he never mentions him."
"Strange," Tim observed. He wracked his brain, trying to remember if Nathan had ever mentioned his parents when Tim was in Scouts, but he simply couldn't recall one way or the other. He asked Terry to try to find out what he could without appearing to pry, and Terry promised he'd try, though he wasn't very hopeful that he would learn any more than they already knew.

In his bed, Tim's memories of his scouting days came flooding back. They had been good days... Perhaps he should have fought Merrit's decision. Yes, it would've been all over Tim's world what he had done, but maybe that would've been best in the long run. Maybe if he'd been out back then he would've had some reason to forget about a penectomy. Maybe, if things had been different, he would still have a penis today. Would that have been better or worse?

His thoughts drifted to that night in the tent, the night that had changed his life, at least as a growing boy. He had pangs of remorse for having led the twelve year old down the path of forbidden places, but he also had fond memories of the incident. As the picture formed in his mind, Tim's phantom erection was back and raging. He began stroking his vacant pubic area in the way he'd learned brought him so close to orgasm he could almost feel it! He kept hoping that some day, if he tried long and hard enough, that he would eventually achieve his goal. Tonight wasn't the night though. He literally rubbed himself raw, and the only emission from his body were tears of frustration.

Tim was really beginning to think he had made a gigantic mistake. He wasn't sorry he'd had his cock off, but he was really beginning to wonder if he shouldn't have had everything removed. He was frequently back on the eunuch sites now, trying to get his mind around the idea of being castrated. He didn't want it, but he couldn't live this way. He was getting more and more frustrated, not only with not being able to cum, but perhaps even more because of the frustration of loneliness. True, he still had Larry, Laura and Terry, but none of them was terribly interested in his body. Tim remembered bitterly the number of heads that would turn when he appeared in a bathing suit, or nothing at all. At the time he'd been embarrassed and wished those people would suddenly evaporate; but now he would welcome those ogles. He would give almost anything to have some anxious queer approach him, even just eye him with desire. But such things never seemed to happen any more. No time to think of it now though. His first big swim meet was coming up this Sunday, and for Tim it could not have been more important than the Olympics.

Tim's mood at school continued its downward plunge. He wasn't seeing nearly as much of Larry... he had a girl friend! Laura didn't seem to be around as much either, because she was starting to date other boys. Tim wasn't jealous, at least in the way that one would normally think. He was incredibly envious that their social lives were coming together while his had evidently fallen in total disarray! Even Terry seemed to have found his own way enough that Tim didn't see that much of him any more. Of course between homework and work at the computer store almost every day, swim practice eight times a week, then staying awake for hours every night trying to get his phantom prick to either produce for him or go away, Tim wasn't getting nearly enough sleep. From his friends' perspective, it was Tim who wasn't around that much. Night after night he lay in bed, rubbing his vacant crotch, fingering his balls, thinking this would be the night that he'd go all the way. More often than not he would dig out the picture of his own hard cock, then stare at it while he tried to stimulate himself, even reattaching it in his mind; but it just seemed to take longer each night to reach the point at which he knew he'd come as close as he was going to get.

Those phantom erections were showing up in his dreams now. He could see himself whole again, his beautiful penis having grown to almost 7 inches as he stroked it, showed it off, attracted lovers with it. He hated those dreams, even the images he sometimes formed in his mind when he was awake, because they only served to frustrate him more. His body continued to relieve its physical pressure by producing a wet dream once or twice a month, but they were never accompanied by any sensations of pleasure. Why, he wondered, couldn't he convince his stupid body that it should connect those nerves in his groin that were still there to the ones that had been severed? Why wouldn't his body adapt to its new situation and work with him? He'd often heard that blind people had enhanced hearing and touch; people with one leg either gone or less than whole in some way developed stronger muscles and bones in their good limb. So why the hell couldn't his body simply respond to his manipulations of the parts he had left? And even more important, why couldn't some of the cute guys Tim saw understand that he was still a very sexual person?

"Is everybody ready for tomorrow?" Coach Elliot said when he had the entire team assembled poolside. It was Saturday morning, the end of their last practice before the big meet.
"YEAH!" the team yelled.
"Are we gonna kill ‘em all?"
"YEAH!" the team yelled even louder.
"Great! Now, as always, it's a good night's sleep tonight, pasta for breakfast. You have to be on the pool deck by 7 am, so those of you who are driving down in the morning had better be on the road no later than 4:30. Does everyone know how to get there?"
"I don't," Tim said nervously.
"See me after, Tim, and I'll give you directions," the coach instructed. "Does everyone have a ride?"
"I don't," about five boys replied as they held up their hands. Without being asked, those who had room offered the others a ride. Tim had wanted to take Terry, but Ricky Preston, one of the older boys suggested that he ride with Tim, if Tim didn't mind. "That'll kill two birds with one stone," he said. "I'll get my ride, and I can show Tim where to go." That seemed like a good idea to the coach, and so like it or not, Tim found himself with a passenger. He knew Terry wouldn't be the least impressed with being delegated to the back seat, but there was little choice now.

"Why don't you plan to sleep at my house tonight?" Ricky asked as they made arrangements to meet.
"Your folks won't mind?" Tim asked.
"My folks are away," Ricky replied. "We got the whole house to ourselves." Tim thought that was a good idea, for more reasons than one. He reasoned that if this guy wanted him to spend the night, he was a possible close friend, and Tim was anxious to form friendships on the team. He had never considered the possibility of Ricky as a sex partner, but a friend was a friend. He drove Ricky home and called his parents from Ricky's house.

"I guess it's all right," Tim's dad said when he'd heard the question. "Your mom and I... we were planning to go to the meet. We thought maybe we'd all drive down together."
"You were planning to go to my swim meet?" Tim said as he felt himself blushing. "Dad, there's nothing more boring than a swim meet if you're not swimming. Why would you want to go?"
"Because it's high time we got a little more involved in our sons' lives, that's why! But if you don't want us to go..."
"No, Dad, it's not that. I'd love to have you go. But Ricky..."
"I understand, son. You want to be with your friends, and this is the first time you've got to drive some place on your own. We'll see you there, ok?"

"Problem?" Ricky asked when Tim hung up the phone.
"Not really a problem," Tim replied. My mom and dad are planning to go, and that's a little bit of a surprise."
"Did you tell them how excruciatingly boring a swim meet is for spectators?"
"Yeah, I told ‘em, but they still plan to go. But it's no problem, my dad said he'd meet us there." Tim spent the afternoon with Ricky, just hanging out and doing little of importance. Tim hadn't got to do this very often for the past year or so, and he enjoyed it thoroughly. Still, he was apprehensive about his parents seeing him in a Speedo.

By bedtime, Ricky and Tim were close friends. Tim had helped him work out some problems with his computer, then Ricky, a freshman at a local college, had shown Tim around the campus. After that they had got a takeout pizza and gone back to Ricky's house and watched a movie - the sort of movie one doesn't watch with the family. It wasn't a gay movie, which only served to confirm Tim's assumption that Ricky wasn't gay. "I like to sleep in the nude," Ricky said as they got undressed. "I hope you don't mind."
"It's your home and your bed," Tim said neutrally. Still, for some reason he will never know, Tim had no sexual thoughts toward this guy. He simply stripped to his boxers and crawled into bed. Ricky had two twin beds in his room, so they were technically not sleeping together at all.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Ricky said when they were in bed and the lights were out.
"I guess," Tim answered sleepily. He reserved the right to refuse to answer or to lie, but he didn't express that sentiment.
"I know it's none of my business," Ricky said after he had paused for so long Tim was wondering if he'd changed his mind. "I've been wondering ever since you joined the swim team... I mean... Uhhh... How do you... you know, with no cock and all... How do you satisfy your... well... how do you get off?"

"That's an easy one," Tim answered with a chuckle. "I don't."
"You don't? At all?" That said with surprise.
"I still have wet dreams," Tim explained. "I guess that's what keeps my balls from exploding."
"Don't you miss it?"
"Yeah, of course I do."
"So you've tried?"
"Of course I have! I try all the time, but it just doesn't work."
"What have you done? I mean, how do you try to get off?"
"Now that IS personal!" Tim replied.
"Yeah, you're right, I shouldn't have asked. Sorry." Now both boys were very embarrassed, so neither said any more. Soon they were fast asleep.

The two hour ride to the meet was uneventful. By the time the boys arrived they were fast friends and each other's rooting section. Tim was swimming in five different events, including a 200 meter Individual Medley relay. Being the backstroker, he was particularly nervous because he was to swim the first relay. The remainder of the event depended on what kind of a start Tim got. "You'll be fine, Tim," Ricky assured him. "I've watched you swim, and you'll do great!"

Just before his first event, Tim noticed his parents in the gallery. After a lot of soul searching, he had decided to just be himself and let the chips fall where they may. He glanced down at his groin and tried to tell himself that he didn't look any different, but the lie just didn't work. They were sure to notice, he thought to himself, and his nerves took another stab at his consciousness. Tim would never know of the exchange that went on in the stands that day.

"He is so handsome in that skimpy bathing suit!" Virginia Chandler said to her husband. "We've got to get to more of the boys' sporting things. They're turning into men right before our eyes."
"Yeah, you're right, Honey," Barry answered absently. He would never have admitted it in a thousand years, but Barry Chandler was preoccupied with, of all things, the crotches of the boys on Tim's swim team. With every one that he looked at, there was the very clear and predominant outline of an ample penis; every one, that is, except his own son's. Without being too obvious, he peered closely every time Tim faced him, trying to see some sign that there was anything but a vague bulge in his groin, but that's all he could see: a vague bulge that seemed to him to be too low to be a penis.

Barry got another good look, along with everyone else present, as Tim began his first event. As they did their best to beat each other swimming on their backs, the other five swimmers had very obvious protrusions high and dry, the only water touching them being the odd ripple as they swam on their backs. But Tim had no such protrusion. Could it possibly be that at 17, almost 18, his penis had not yet developed? Barry tried to remember the first time he had noticed that his penis had grown, but he couldn't. But he knew without any doubt that it had been long before his seventeenth birthday! Barry made a mental note to ask Tim about it, but how on earth would he do that? How could he ask his son such a question without embarrassing them both?

"Look at Tim!" Virginia said as she nudged her husband so hard she almost knocked him out of his seat. Tim was standing on the pool deck, both fists in the air in triumph, his lean muscular body stretched impressively.
"Yeah, I know," Barry said when he'd recovered. "He's a handsome boy."
"Not that,!" Virginia said with disgust. "Look at his bathing suit! Look at the other boys. They are all displaying all their... err.... their privates, as if they were peacocks on parade or something. It's disgusting! But look at Tim. He doesn't have himself on display for all the world to see. It's almost impossible to tell if he has any of that male genitalia at all! Isn't that just like him? He's such a good boy!"
"But Ginnie," Barry argued.
"Yes, I know. Now's when you're going to tell me that it's a male thing, that a male shouldn't be ashamed of his... his parts. I don't think Tim's ashamed, he's just modest, like he should be. He's showing his breeding, his upbringing, not his... his... the part of him that's not supposed to be shown. I'm so proud of him!"

Barry wasn't convinced, but his wife was right. Tim was almost an adult now, and he was assured that if there was a problem that needed his help, Tim would tell him. He'd learned that lesson very well when he was eight years old, hadn't he? Just relax, you stupid idiot, Barry told himself. Just relax and enjoy being the father of two pretty great kids. So maybe his penis is so small he can conceal it. Big deal! It isn't bothering him, so why should it bother me? And when the time comes, size doesn't matter, does it?

Tim did do great as Ricky had predicted, finishing his part of the relay in first place. Unfortunately the freestyle swimmer was a little longer than he should be getting off the block, so the team had to settle for a second. All the same the entire team made a good showing at the meet, securing an overall third place. "You did your part," Coach Elliot said to Tim. "You improved your personal best in all events, and that's all I expect from any swimmer. If everyone does that, the rest will fall into place."

Tim was pleased with his own performance, but even more so because he seemed to have been accepted by the entire team. They cheered him in the water just like the others, and congratulated him when he did well. He was still "Dickless" in the showers and locker rooms, but Tim noticed a distinct difference in the tone. It was just a nickname now, and Tim discovered he really didn't mind as long as those who used the term were also his comrades.

The other teams who shared the showers at the meet were a different story. There were gawks and giggles, questions and less than kind comments. "Just ignore ‘em," Ricky counseled. "They're just jealous because they know you're gonna be one of our better swimmers." Tim took the advice because there was little else he could do anyway, and he soon found over time that his tormentors were not long getting over their mirth. The curiosity lived on, the questions persisted, but Tim held his stance that he just didn't want to talk about it.

After the meet, Tim and Ricky were invited by his parents to a meal at a local fast food joint. Tim was uncomfortable during the meal, but he had no idea why. Ricky charmed Tim's parents unbelievably, so as time passed Tim began to have a good time as well. Still he was ill at ease, but fortunately the meal of fried chicken and French fries was soon over and they were on their way home.

"Good meet," Ricky said idly as they began the long drive home.
"Yeah," Tim agreed. "I'm happy with my performance. I just hope the coach doesn't expect me to improve that much every meet."
"Don't worry, Dickless," Ricky said with a grin. "He understands you'll level off as you get into shape. You sure did better than most of us in our first meet."
"Best of all for me is the team seems to have got tired of teasing me."
"They're a good bunch of guys, Tim, but they gotta give the new guy a hard time. You know how that works." Tim agreed that he knew exactly how that works, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"I know you don't like to talk about it, but I just have to ask," Ricky said after they had driven about 20 minutes in silence. "How long has it been since you got off?"
"I don't mind, really," Tim replied. "I guess I'm just a little choosy who I talk with about it. I had a wet dream last week, but the last time I had a real orgasm was the night before my surgery, last July 18."
"Last July? Damn, you must be goin' almost outta your mind!" Ricky exclaimed.
"There are times," Tim admitted.
"Bet I could get you off," Ricky observed.

Tim felt a wave of... of what he didn't know wash down over his body. Had he just been propositioned? Had Ricky just made an offer out of kindness, or did he find Tim attractive? A simple challenge perhaps? Or maybe he was just offering to show his new friend some technique that Tim didn't know about? It wasn't that Tim didn't find Ricky attractive because he did. Ricky was a little taller than Tim, a year older, and solid everywhere! Tim knew when he forced himself to think about it that he would cheerfully die for a romp in the hay with Ricky, but he had concluded from the start that he wasn't the least inclined. Maybe, Tim thought, he was just teasing? "Lots of people have tried," he said at last.
"Males or females?" Ricky asked as offhandedly as if he was asking Tim what time it is.
"Well..." Tim stammered, trying think of a way to reply without committing himself, yet keep the door open.
"Only reason I ask is that it's been my experience half the females in the world don't know how to get a guy off," Ricky observed. "When I want a REAL sexual experience, I'll take a guy any time."

Tim could not believe how casually Ricky had just admitted that he was interested in guys, actually preferred them. He felt his phantom hardon spring to life with an almost blinding speed. "Unless I'm mistaken, I'd say I just got propositioned," Tim said nervously. "I guess that means you're gay?"
"Let's just say I got an open mind," Ricky replied. "And I find you very attractive, Tim. You've got a killer body, and one of the cutest butts I've ever seen. I'm hoping you're not one of those guys who are turned off by the prospect of gay sex, because if you are I've just made a giant mistake and you're gonna hate me and miss out on a lifetime of pleasure, given your situation."

Ok, so this guy had just admitted... admitted what? Not that he was gay exactly, but he had certainly stated very clearly that he was not adverse to a little gay sex. Fine, Tim thought, if Ricky can do that, so can I! Tim was still on a bit of an emotional high after the swim meet, but as that elation wore off he felt the old depression that was so much a part of his life these days returning. He was still very angry over the Carlos situation; he wasn't angry AT Carlos, in fact they had exchanged several emails after their breakup and were still good friends. No, he was just plain MAD! He was mad at himself for... well, for not being able to give Carlos whatever it was he needed to keep their relationship going. He was totally pissed at himself for having such rigid standards as to what constituted acceptable sexual activity. And he was mad at life in general for having dealt him what he considered to be a rather difficult hand. So as his little red car sped along the Interstate, Tim made a decision.

"I'm not sure exactly what you just said about your sexuality," Tim said, his heart pounding almost out of his chest, his phantom erection screaming at him for relief. "But if I heard you correctly, you said that you are at least partly gay. I've got no problem with that, Ricky. In fact I'm gay too."
"So you wouldn't be offended if I invited you to stop off at my house for a couple hours when we get home?"
"I... I wouldn't be offended at all," Tim answered shakily. "But what about your parents?"
"They won't be home till 9 or 10. We should have lots of time to have some fun."
"Just what do you consider fun?"
"All sorts of things, Tim. The fact you don't have a dick kinda rules out some of the things I'd like to do, but you still got a prostate, don't you?"

There was no doubt in Tim's mind now, he had just been offered a chance to be penetrated anally. He told Ricky that he had never done that, that he had always found the whole idea rather disgusting. Ricky simply responded that he didn't know what he was missing, that in his position it was only a matter of time until he would yield to anything that promised to get him off. Then he shared that he had never buggered a virgin and promised to be extra careful and gentle. Tim knew that stopping off at Ricky's house was a loud and clear acceptance of the offer, yet with pounding chest and ragged breathing, he pulled the little car into the driveway and shut it down.

Next: XVIII Nathan's Surprise