I have always watched the boys coming out of the showers after my PE classes to see if anyone has a boner. If I see one who does, I keep an eye on him for a couple of weeks to see if it was a one-time fluke or is a regular thing. If the latter, I can probably safely assume that he is queer.

I'd been watching Melvyn Prouty for two weeks, six successive classes, and he hadn't once failed to emerge from the showers with a boner which he did not have when he went in.

After Friday's class, as he emerged with his prick standing at attention, I beckoned him over and told him "I want to talk to you in my office before you get dressed." He accompanied me to my office and I inconspicuously locked the door after us and sat down behind my desk, leaving him standing there dripping.

"I've been watching you,Prouty." I began. "After every class, you come out of the showers with an erection. The only explanation for that that I can find is that you find seeing the naked bodies of other boys sexually exciting."

Melvyn blushed deep red and hung his head. "Yes, its true."he said sadly. I'm queer. I face the wall, hoping that the other boys won't see it, wait 'til they've all left, and then hurry out."

"Well", I answered, "there's a simple way to avoid getting a boner [I deliberately used the slang word.] in the shower."

Melvyn looked up with an inquiring look on his face.

"After class, but before you hit the shower, go into one of the toilet stalls in the Boys' Room, and jerk off. You won't be able to get a boner again soon and should have time to take your shower without having to worry about it."

Melvyn considered my advice for a moment and then said thoughtfully

"Yeah, that oughta work."

I stood up and faced right so that he could see my pants standing out, and said quietly "It always worked for me."

Melvyn had lost his boner while admitting shamefacedly that he was queer, but now it snapped to attention again. I smiled and beckoned him

over to me. Pointing at the bulge in my pants, I asked him "Does this interest you ?"

In a shaky voice, he replied "Golly, it sure does."

At that point, I really stepped over the line. I unbuttoned my fly, reached in, and brought out my cock and balls. Then I asked very

quietly, "What would you like to do now ?"

Melvyn answered just as quietly, almost in a whisper, "Blow you."

"Be my guest." I replied. Melvyn dropped to his knees before me and took my cock into his mouth. I cautioned him "Wrap your lips over your teeth. Very few men like the feel of teeth on their pricks. It arouses fears that it might be bitten off. " Melvyn laughed and did as I asked.

I let Melvyn do it his own way rather than explain how I like it, but I did tell him that he might fondle my balls or even squeeze them gently, if he wanted to.

It was evident from Melvyn's performance that he was an experienced cocksucker. I asked him "Are you likely to cum when I cum in your mouth ?"

Melvyn managed to say "Mm hmm" around my cock. So, I handed him the tumbler that stood beside the water carafe atop my desk. "Here, cum into this so you don't get jism all over the floor." Melvyn bent his boner down and stuck it into the tumbler.

Melvyn's skillful licking, sucking, stroking and nut-squeezing were rapidly bringing me to an orgasm. I shot four big spurts into his mouth and Melvyn swallowed every one without wasting a drop. I couldn't have done better myself. I think he shot into the tumbler five times,about a tablespoonful each time.

When he had worked the last drops out of my cock with his thumb, I lifted Melvyn to his feet and French-kissed him, tasting my own jism in his mouth. I set the tumbler on the desk for later and, working the last drops of jism out of his prick with my thumb, I licked them off the head of his prick.

After I let him out of the office. I drank his load from the tumbler.

Mmmmm, delicious boycum.

I would not see Melvyn again before Monday because he was a day student, living no more than a mile from the Prosper School. On weekends and during vacations, I often went into the city and hired one of the boys who hung around Journal Square in skin-tight pants,or made out with one of the young men at the "Y".

I was considering this when I returned to my room and sat down in the armchair to read my mail. There was a letter from an old college friend of mine, Monty Evens, who was now coaching basketball in Binghamton. The first page was all about his coaching job and how he hoped to get a college coaching position next year. On the second page, he dropped a bomb in my lap.

"You remember Ben Stanley, don't you ? [God, I should hope so; we were lovers.] Well, I'll bet you didn't know that he was queer. [Naturally not; our friendship was strictly Platonic- LIKE HELL.] Well, Ben was teaching Freshman boys' PE in a high school in Rochester and got caught molesting one of his students.

He was arrested and tried for sodomy and child molestation. [I have never regarded a 14-year-old as a child. Once the balls drop down, childhood is ended.]He got sent on a 10-year vacation to Ossining ["SingSing"]. Unfortunately, once the other prisoners found out why he was there, they beat him to death in the exercise yard." [Oh, MY GOD,NO! Oh, Ben,Ben I still love you. Oh, NO, NO, NO !]

The letter dropped from my nerveless fingers as I dropped back in the chair in a dead faint. When I awoke, I sat there sobbing. I cried my heart out over Ben whom I had loved so dearly.

I don't believe in an afterlife, so I have no hope of ever a seeing Ben again. We hadn't been constantly in touch after graduation because we sort of took each other for granted, each believing that the other would always be there.

The next thought which occurred to my mind was chilling. This could happen to me. In the eyes of the law, I had molested one of my students this very afternoon. The law is so damned inconsistent. The age of consent for boys is 14. Melvyn is 14, so why can't I have sex with him ?

Because I'm not a girl.

I was in just as great danger as Ben had been. Suppose one of the boys tried to blackmail me,or got pissed off at me and talked to the Administration or, worse yet, to his parents. I shuddered. I should confine my sexual adventures to the Journal Square boys. Somebody was paying well to have the police look the other way. Nobody was ever arrested for patronizing them.

But, that wouldn't make me immune to temptation by the beauty of some of the cute boys in my PE classes. No matter how much I dallied with the boys on Journal Square or the young men at the "Y", those cute bubble-butts in my gym classes would get me hot. My fear of being caught, arrested, imprisoned, and murdered by the other prisoners as Ben had been was rapidly growing into full-scale panic.

I ought never have gone into coaching, but there's nothing else that I want or know how to do. I'd have gone into pro football, but, following an automobile accident, I have a whole machine shop full of bolts,plates, rods, and God knows what else in my left leg from the hip to the shin. I'm lucky to be able to walk.

I went over all of this before I chose to major in Physical Education. I knew I was queer and that I'd be tempted. There was an alternative that I almost went for and, if I could have found a surgeon willing to do it,I'd have gone for it. Later, I realized that there is a certain kind of doctor who might be willing, and just barely competent to do what needed to be done.

So, I was back to square one again. Ben's horrible fate made it clear to me that I couldn't hope to go on this way indefinitely . Eventually I was almost sure to be caught. The thought made me frantic.

The kind of doctor I would need could be found in or near the city. And who would be likely to know about him ? A cabbie. Should I do this ? I decided to flip a coin: heads = Yes, tails = No. I flipped a quarter and , when it came to rest, George Washington was on top.

Having decided the matter, I showered, shaved my pubes and thighs, dressed, walked down to the Interurban Transit station, and caught a train into the city. I got off at the City Center station and looked for a cab, not just any cab, though. The driver must be young and street-wise.

The one I sought proved to be a privately owned cab, marked "Tony's Cab Company." The driver appeared to be in his late 20's. He wore no wedding ring and had a street-wise look about him, the kind of person who would know the score. I motioned to him to stop and got in. "Where to, bud ?" he asked.

"I'm looking for the kind of doctor who performs illegal operations on knocked-up broads." I replied. "Do you know of one ?"

"Sure.", he answered.

"Good. Do you know his phone number ?"

"Yep."

"OK. Then drive to the nearest phone booth, call him up and tell him that you have a fare who wants to be castrated, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. Ask if he'll do it and, if so, how much ? "

"Gotcha." replied the driver without batting an eye. He drove about two blocks and pulled up in front of Grucci's Fruit Stand and got out and

dropped a nickel into the pay phone, which,of course, meant it was a local call. In the mean time, I read the driver's name off the sticker on the windshield , Anthony Accornero.

In about a minute , he came back to the cab, leaving the handset dangling by its cord in the phone booth.

"He says yeah and $200; thats twice his usual price, but he says it's a harder operation."

"I agree", I said. "Tell him we'll be there shortly." Anticipating an even higher price, I had brought $300 in my wallet, so I was all set.

Tony returned and drove off and then asked me, "So, why do you want your balls cut off ?"

"I said, 'NO QUESTIONS ASKED .' "

"That was to him, not me." Tony reminded me.

"To keep me out of trouble. I'm a boys' gym teacher and, ..........." I let my voice trail off.

"Ain't that kinda a drastic way to solve the problem ?"

"No. A friend of mine got in that kind of trouble, got sent to Sing Sing, and got beaten to death there."

"Oh, shit" commented Tony. "Why don't ya just quit yer job and do somethin' else?"

"It's all I know and all I ever wanted to do except play pro football, and I can't do that because my left leg got all smashed up in a car accident. I can't run; I even walk with a limp."

"Well, shit, you oughta have some fun before you git yer balls cut off."

If I do, I might not be able to bring myself to have it done."

"Do ya want me t'wait fer ya 'til the operation's over ?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I'll tell ya what, fer a blowjob, I'll shut the meter off."

"You've got it."

"Y'see, I swing both ways. I've got boyfriends and girlfriends. An asshole's just as hot as a cunt and it don't make no difference what kind of a head a mouth's in."

"Now, that's not true ! If you've had both, then you know damn' well that queers give better blowjobs than broads."

"Wellllll,...............yeah."

"You know why, don't you ?"

"Nope"

"We enjoy it and they don't."

There was no further conversation while Tony drove out into the suburbs. The house he was seeking was at the left side of the end of a dead-end street, so there waas nothing beyond it.

It was after sunset, but Tony hadn't turned his lights on yet when he pulled into the driveway on the right side of a 2-story house and shut off both the ignition and the meter. Then he said "Git in the front beside me.

I did while Tony unbuttoned his fly and dragged out a great thick whang about the size of a small Hebrew National salami. The length wasn't really exceptional, about seven inches, but it was easily 1½ inches thick.

I decided that,if this was to be my last blowjob,it would be my best. Though Tony's cock was uncircumcised, the glans was fully exposed and clean,no nasty smegma to deal with. Wrapping my lips over my teeth,

I swept my tongue back-and-forth about the corona of the glans, meanwhile stroking the shaft from his fly to my lips with my right hand.

Then I engulfed as much of the shaft as I could accomodate in my mouth, swirling my tongue about the shaft. Tony began to tremble and muttered "Holy shit,you sure know how to do this." With my mouth filled with his great salami, all I could nanage to say in reply was "Mm hm."

I felt Tony's prick become hotter, harder, and bigger in my mouth,

indicating that he was approaching an orgasm. It was too soon. I relaxed my mouth and slowed my sucking and licking. I reached down into his pants through his fly and brought out his balls which I gently fondled.

As I felt Tony relax from the level of excitement to which I'd brought him, I resumed my efforts.

Four times, I brought him to the brink of an orgasm, only to let him slip back. Then he said "If you don't let me come this time, my balls'll

explode." I licked the glans,pumped the shaft,and gently squeezed his balls. Suddenly, his balls jumped up out of my hand and he started spurting.

He gave me six great wads of gism which I was hard pressed to swallow

without wasting any or getting any on his pants. Finally,his balls dropped down and I knew that he was done coming. I worked the last drops out of his cock by running my thumb along the urethra.

"My God," I exclaimed. You must have been saving up for six months !"

"Are you kidding ? I jerked off this morning."

"Lordy ! You're a walking, talking gism factory."

With that, I got out and went upon the porch. In the growing darkness, I could just make out the block letters on the note pasted to the door to the upstairs apartment: "RING BELL AND COME UP." I rang the bell and immediately the downstairs light came on.

At the top of the stairs I met a man who said "I am Dr. Rosenblum."

Dr. Rosenblum was a short man with steel-wool grey hair and a hooked nose, with a slight Yiddish accent. He was wearing a white lab coat.

"I'm the man Tony phoned about." I replied.

"I hope that you will excuse the crassness of bringing up money first,but I must be sure that you can pay for the operation."

"Of course,"I said, taking out my wallet. I showed him that I had over $200 and then counted out five $20 bills and handed them to him. "Here, this is a security deposit."I told him.

"Thank you. It is a pleasure dealing with an honest man. I intend to perform the operation under local anaesthesia which is safer and will leave you feeling much better afterward."

I followed Dr. Rosenblum into the operating room and undressed. He was pleased that I had shaved my pubes and thighs."Thank you.You have saved me both time and effort in preparing the operation site."

I stretched out on the operating table and was secured by various restraints, as he explained, to prevent possible injury from sudden involuntary movements. He disinfected the operation site and then injected Novocaine into several places on my scrotum and, after a few minutes, through it into my spermatic cords.

I chose not to watch the operation, so I looked up at the ceiling. However, I could still hear what he was doing, especially the "snip, snip" of the surgical scissors as they cut my spermatic cords and separated the source of my manhood from my body.

He asked if I wanted my testicles preserved in formalin, but I assured him that, once disconnected from my body, they were of no use or interest to me. When I sat up, I saw that the incisions had been very neatly sewn with white silk sutures,which he reminded me must be removed after two weeks.

Dr. Rosenblum had noticed all of the scars on my left leg and I explained about my accident. "Well then,"he commented, "many of the warnings I was going to give you are unnecessary.

You are not likely to go dancing, running, jumping, playing golf, tennis, not to mention baseball, football, or basketball. However, I shall warn you against heavy lifting, anything over 15 pounds, horseback, bicycle,or motorcycle riding for the next three weeks."

I paid him the balance of $100, shook hands with him, and left . Inasmuch as the Novocaine hadn't worn off yet, I was in no pain. When I got back to the cab, Tony asked me the same question as before: "Where to, bud ?"

I answered "The YMCA. I hope I can get a room for the weekend. This time,though,I'm not looking for sex."

"Aw, there'll be lot of disappointed guys there." said Tony with a wink.

Tony charged me ten bucks for the round trip. I had no trouble getting a room, and , after dining on a chef's salad and a cup of unsweetened tea at the cafeteria, I hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob and turned in.

I spent most of the weekend in bed except for meals in the cafeteria. Sunday evening, I took the train back to Brookdale and a cab to Proctor Academy, though I usually walked the mile-and-a half to the campus.

On Monday morning, I found a notice from the Headmaster's office in my faculty mailbox to the effect that Melvyn Prouty had undergone surgery on Sunday and would be out of school for two weeks. I was surprised and puzzled by that inasmuch as he had seemed to be in excellent health on Friday.

I, myself, took it easy for those two weeks as Dr. Rosenblum had suggested, and returned to his office on Friday evening to have the stitches removed.

We discussed diet and exercise and he advised me to avoid fats, sweets, and starches and to concentrate mainly on lean meats, poultry, fish, vegetables and fresh fruit. This was not significantly different from my usual diet. I told him that I intended to commence a body-building program next week.

On the following Monday, Melvyn Prouty returned to class. I had not been watching the boys come out of the shower room because it no lomger made any difference to me if they had boners. However,I noticed that Melvyn didn't take a shower.

He put his street clothes on over his gym clothes and hurried out of the locker room. On Wednesday, I noticed that there was something flopping about loosely in his shorts, and I asked him if he was wearing an athletic supporter. He said "No, sir." and I asked him why not. He asked to discuss that with me privately, and I told him to see me in my office after class.

He came in in his street clothes and I asked him "Well, Prouty, why aren't you wearing an athletic supporter ?" His reply startled me.

"Because I don't have anything to support, sir. I've been castrated."

"My God ! How did that happen ?"

"My father caught me in the act with a younger boy and immediately hauled me off to a surgeon. He told me that he'd suspected for some time that I was 'unnatural'. I guess he accomplished his purpose. I've lost interest in sex."

"Did the doctor tell you to avoid fattening foods ?"

"Yes, but he said that, even so,I'd become weak and grow tits."

"Boys lose their balls in athletic accidents, too, y'know. That's happened to students of mine. Inasmuch as we are not set up to offer a bodybuilding program here, I always urge them to go to a commercial gym like Silver's Gym in the city and enroll in one.

You should speak to your father about that. There's no point in being a weakling and looking like a bizarre caricature of a woman. Tell him your Phys. Ed coach advised you to."

After Melvyn left, I made preparations to take my own advice.