PenOff

Up until the time my wife returned to her hometown to visit friends and relatives, while I remained at home to operate our hardware store, I had thought our marriage to be normal in every possible way. We'd been married almost twenty years at that time, the ceremony having been performed a couple of months after we both graduated from college. My MBA and her ABA degrees meant that we had seen lots of each other in shared classes, and it just seemed natural for us to become acquaintances, then friends, then lovers. We had been engaged for almost a year before graduation, and I was sure I knew Kathy quite well, and she probably felt the same about me.

Neither of us had any desire for children, so she continued taking birth-control pills. We had an active sex life, by my standards anyway. Which meant that we fucked whenever we felt like it, and that usually meant once at midweek and once on the weekend. I'm sure that schedule is within the norm for married couples, and it certainly worked for us.

My wife planned to be gone for two weeks on her vacation, and after the first one had passed, I was feeling horny. I decided to look at some porno on the Internet, which I did on occasion. That always sufficed to get me turned on enough that I'd pester Kathy for sex if she were home, or use my trusty right hand if I were by myself.

I normally didn't spend much time on our shared computer at home, since so much of my work time involved working on one of the machines in the store. A computer is just a tool to me, and not a usual source of fun and games. This time, though, was to prove much different.

After the computer had booted, I went to Start-Favorites to find the URL for a Website I'd saved at one time in the past. It was a search engine for sex-oriented locations on the Web, and was my usual starting point. I don't know whether it was inattention or something else, but I accidentally opened the Documents folder instead of the Favorites folder. Being momentarily confused by the list that was then displayed, I stared at it for a few seconds, trying to understand why my bookmarks weren't being displayed.

There was nothing of interest in the Documents list, except for one item in the approximate center. It was entitled, "137PenOff", and was entirely unfamiliar to me. I assumed it was one of our office documents that Kathy had been working on at home, and so clicked it to see what it was.

When the folder opened, several sub-folders were then displayed. These had various titles, with some of them being "Photos", "Videos", and "Stories". I was sure this was nothing work-related, but by then my curiosity was piqued, so I opened the Photos folder.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw dozens of thumbnails displayed on the screen. As I looked closely at the small pictures, I could see that nearly all of them were of naked men! It had never occurred to me that my wife had any interest in such things, but she obviously did. I decided to enlarge one of the thumbnails to see just what it was that she found so interesting.

I double-clicked one of the pictures at random, and waited a few seconds for it to load. Once again, I was astounded at what was displayed before me. The photo was full-frontal of a naked man, which was probably not so unusual. What was unusual about it, though, was that he had a full set of testicles, but no penis! It was beyond me why Kathy had saved such a thing, and I decided to look at a couple more of the thumbnails to see if they were of the same subject.

Thumbnail after thumbnail, when enlarged, was indeed of that same subject. Most of the photos had obviously been manipulated with computer programs, but a few of them seemed to be genuine snapshots taken of men with balls, but no penises. There was one series of shots that showed progressive steps in the surgical removal of a penis, and it was notable because the thing had been heavily tattooed. In the final picture, the man was standing facing the camera. He was holding his severed cock in one hand and playing with his still-intact balls with the other.

I'm not sure at which point I realized my dick was erect. I remembered adjusting it several times so that it would be more comfortable as it filled with blood, but by the time it commanded my attention it was monstrously engorged and throbbing more than it had done in many years. As I gazed at picture after picture, the thing seemed to grow larger with each viewing. I remember that my throat was very tight, and I had to clear it several times. I'm glad the phone didn't ring then, because I'd probably have been unable to speak clearly enough to be understood.

One set of two photographs stands out in my mind, and it was the most exciting of any I'd seen so far. In the first picture, a naked man was standing behind an apparatus that was labelled as a "penis guillotine". His erection was protruding through a hole in the center of the thing, and a large blade was poised above him. In the second photo, the blade was at the bottom of the guillotine, and his severed cock was laying on the floor in front of him.

I know now that the photo had been manipulated to show his penis as removed, but at the time my brain was not thinking rationally. I'll never forget sitting there in front of the computer, staring at that picture, and feeling an intense orgasm take control of my body. Without even being touched, my cock began to spurt its load of boiling cum. That happened with regularity when I was a teenager, but certainly not since then. It was obvious that my brain found something very exciting, stimulating, and arousing in what I was looking at then.

Always before, when I had shot my wad, my excitement cooled and my penis shrank. This time that didn't happen. My heart continued to pound and my cock stayed hard, although probably not as turgid as a few minutes before. As I felt the wetness in my undershorts begin to spread, I continued to open the thumbnails.

I was disappointed to come to the end of the photos that my wife had downloaded, and was quick to open the next folder. It was named "Videos", and contained sub-folders with descriptive titles. The first one contained a file entitled "cutoff.wmv", which I knew would open the Windows Media Viewer. That meant the thing was probably a short movie, and I decided to look at it.

Although the clip was quite short, it was even more exciting to me than the photo of the man standing behind the penis guillotine. It began with a naked man tied in a standing spreadeagle to an X-beam, and with his mouth gagged. The camera then moved to a closeup of his crotch and showed another man's hand pull on the victim's flaccid penis, and then place the blades of a pair of large shears around it. As the blades were forced closed, blood began to spurt from the little cock, and then the severed end fell to the floor.

As I ran the clip over and over, I distinctly remember thinking, "I wish he had a hardon. I'll bet I'd be hard if it were me tied there." As I realized that my hand was stroking my cock through my pants, my second climax began. It didn't last nearly as long as the one had a few minutes before, and as it ended, I could feel the beginning of pain in my crotch. Cumming two times in quick succession would be normal for a teenager, but I was in my early forties, and it was something my body didn't like.

Following my second orgasm, I came back to reality. I guiltily closed the files I'd been so enjoying a few moments before, wondering to myself how I could think having my cock cut off would ever be erotic. I changed my undershorts and then settled down to an evening of TV.

_____________________

In less than two hours, I was back in front of the computer. Again I looked at the photos, and then all the videos in their folder. My cock had been hard since before I had even come into the computer room, and as before, it got harder and harder by the minute. I managed to make it through the photos, and even the first video, without cumming in my pants again.

The other videos were not as exciting as the first, but they certainly held my interest. What completely overwhelmed me with lust, though, were the stories. Kathy had downloaded dozens of the things, and as I read them one-by-one, I saw that the recurrent theme dealt with a woman who used one method or another to remove the genitals of a man. In several of the stories, both the balls and the cock were removed, and sometimes it was "just" a castration that was performed.

At some point, I saw a sub-folder named "The Best", and I opened it. The first story dealt with a woman who removed her husband's penis, and then took joy in the fact that he was as horny as ever, but now had no way to satisfy his cravings. The second story had basically the same plot, as did most of the others. Everything from knives, scissors, snips, shears, and guillotines had a featured place as the removal tool of choice. In every case, the cutting was done by the woman, and always with her husband as the willing, and usually very cooperative, "victim".

I don't know how many hours had passed when I came to the final story, which was entitled, "My Story". When I opened that particular file, I saw the author listed as "Kathy", and the special thrill I felt throughout my body is indescribable. As I read, she described our life pretty much as I did in the opening paragraphs, always using our actual names. As the story progressed, it became fantasy, but that didn't make it any less real to me.

She told of how she had placed me in servitude to her pussy, and how I would do anything for her. That part was somewhat of a stretch, but in the context of her story it rang true. She then detailed how I had been gradually introduced to the idea of having my penis removed, with the emphasis always on how exciting it would be for her to do it. As the story neared its end, she had ordered me to build a penis guillotine, and then as I watched, she'd used it to cut several wieners in half.

The final paragraphs told of how I had eagerly stepped up to the guillotine and guided my throbbing member through the center hole. After Kathy strapped me in position, she released the blade and watched it fall. In the story, she detailed how overcome she was with lust as she watched my severed penis fall to the floor. At that moment, she experienced the most intense orgasm of her life.

The final paragraph gave a sketch of our life afterwards, and how the insatiable craving for sex from my balls made me her abject slave. That's where the story ended.

As I had read the final two paragraphs, my penis again began to spurt with no help from me. Again and again I re-read the story, and by the third or fourth time, I was pumping my cock through my pants. As my fourth orgasm in less than six hours racked my body, I cried out from the pain in my crotch.

Luckily, the next day was Sunday, and I was able to sleep late. When I awoke, my cock was more than the usual "morning woodie" that most men have. As I lay there coming awake, memory of my final dream swept over me. As you can probably guess, it was based on my wife's story.

There is simply no way to describe the erotic excitement I felt from knowing it was my own wife who was apparently fixated on removing my penis. She had even authored a very personal story detailing how she wanted to do it to me, and outlining the steps she would follow in achieving her goal. Fear and arousal were warring emotions as I thought over and over of her fantasy. Would it remain a fantasy? Would she actually try to guide me to an acceptance, to the point that I would actively participate in my own unmanning? More to the point, would I accept my role and walk up to the guillotine when the time came?

Those questions raced through my mind as I lay there. At one point, God help me, I even began planning how to build the penis guillotine that was featured in her story. I knew that getting the materials would be no problem, since we owned a hardware store. The only part even remotely non-standard would be the blade, and that could be a large meat cleaver with the handle removed and fastened to a heavy piece of plate metal. I could be secured to the frame of the guillotine with either ropes or canvas straps, both of which were sold in our store. You see what I mean by saying I was already planning.

I tried to stay away from the computer that day, but by mid-afternoon it drew me as would the most powerful magnet. Soon I was again staring at the photos, watching the videos, and reading the stories. This time, however, things were different. Before it had been some anonymous man standing there, or being described. Now it was me. Now it was Kathy doing those things to me. That made all the difference in the world. By the time I had once again opened her personal story, my shorts were already filled with slimy cum.

Every night of the following week I stared fixedly at the monitor, seeing myself standing there dickless, or tied to the X-beam, or approaching the guillotine with its high-raised blade. My crotch was in constant pain from the overwork it was subjected to, but that didn't stop me. Somehow, it seemed to inflame me all the more, strange as that may seem.

As the time approached for my wife to return, I began to dread more and more a return to a "normal" existence. How could I sit across the table from her, or lay beside her in bed, without blurting out, "I know you want to cut off my cock. Please do it to me. Please!" I began to rack my brain for some way to bring up such a topic, without admitting that I'd found her very personal files on the computer.

As it turned out, she did the introducing of the topic, and with no help from me. She later confessed that she'd been thinking of that very subject for a long time by then, and something that occurred on her vacation proved to be the very thing to open the door a tiny crack.

I picked Kathy up at the airport in the early afternoon on Saturday. We chatted normally on the ride toward home, she telling me about all the news from home, and about what was happening in the lives of our mutual acquaintances. We stopped at a restaurant for either a late lunch or an early dinner, and then drove home.

Despite all the orgasms I'd had in the past week, my cock was hard by the time we arrived at our house. I couldn't glance at her hands without imagining them on the keyboard writing her oh-so-erotic story, or fantasizing about them holding a knife or a pair of shears. As we walked arm-in-arm to the door, I imagined both of us nude, and with her escorting me to the guillotine, my monstrously erect organ pointing the way.

We watched the evening news on TV, and sipped glasses of wine while she idly discussed her trip. Every now and then, I'd pull her to me and kiss her, after which she'd say, "Looks like somebody's horny. I was gone only two weeks. Surely you can take that much of a separation." I would agree that I was indeed horny, and she would always say, "Maybe I'll have to take care of your little problem after awhile."

The sentence just about caused me to lose all control, because it was one she'd written in her story at the point she was preparing her husband (me!) to accept his eventual penectomy. It was all I could do to keep from blurting out the words she'd put in my mouth at that time, "I'm ready. Please take it off me." However, I held my tongue, even though in my mind the words were said.

As we were thinking about going to bed, she told me one last news item from her hometown, and I know now that she'd been saving it until just the right moment. She said, "Do you remember my cousin Roxy, the nurse?" I nodded as I recalled the woman from past meetings, and she continued, "I don't know if I told you that her husband, Hank, had cancer about a year ago."

I said she hadn't told me that, to my knowledge, and she went on, "It was in his penis, if you can imagine such a horrible thing. Roxy said by the time it was caught, nearly all the thing had to be surgically removed. Isn't that awful?"

I probably murmured something in agreement, although in my thoughts my reaction was somewhat less subdued. I finally managed to ask, "Had it spread to his testicles, too?" She replied, "No. Thank goodness they caught it in time, so he still has those." She appeared introspective then, as if trying to decide whether to say anything further. Finally she said quietly, "It's a funny thing about that. Roxy said that he's more caring and attentive to her now than he ever was before. She thinks he's also a much better lover. I wonder why that would be?"

After clearing my throat a couple of times, I finally said, "Well, a man's testicles are supposedly the source of the hormones that control his sex drive. I'm sure those hormones are still being produced, even though his penis isn't there to give him any release. He's probably very horny all the time, and that's what's making him a better lover."

She asked softly, "I wonder if it always works that way? Do you suppose if any other man had his penis removed, he'd become a better lover?" As she said that, she placed a hand on my raging hardon, and kissed me passionately. The kiss went on and on, and I struggled to keep from cumming. I finally had to resort to thinking of the items I'd need to order on Monday to replenish the inventory in the store! Whatever, it worked, and I didn't lose control.

When we broke the kiss, she looked dreamily at me and asked, "What do you think? Would it work that way in other men?"

I nodded my head and said in a husky whisper that I was sure it would work that way. She then looked directly at me and asked, "Do you think it'd work that way with you?"

My brain was in overdrive from the confusion her question produced in me. I wanted to blurt out, "Yes! I'd be a better lover if you cut off my cock! Please do it to me!" What I finally said was, "Maybe. All men are different, but I'd think that particular thing would be pretty universal." She smiled lazily at me, and said softly, "That's what I thought, too."

She then stood and pulled me to my feet. Grabbing my hardon through my pants, she laughed and said, "Now let's go to bed and maybe you can convince me to let you keep it." I joined in her laughter, and we walked to the bedroom. All the way there, and all during our lovemaking session, my every thought was on pleasing this wonderful creature who had given me such a wonderful fantasy. Even after I had climaxed twice in the half hour of our sex play, the fantasy continued. As I drifted off to sleep, I continued to plan how to construct the thing we would need someday. Now that the ice had been broken, so to speak, I knew that the fantasy would become more and more real to us, until maybe someday it would enter the realm of reality.