outside our bedroom window. I had Trey's cock in my mouth, my tounge moving up and down his shaft, flicking at the rim of his glans and then caressing the length of it, tounging his slit.

My face was between his splayed legs, my hands caressing his sides. My fingernails lightly traced in their wake, just the way he likes. When I heard him make a sound deep in his throat, I started bobbing my head faster, licking from an acorn of wonderful cock to sliding five inches of it down the length of my tounge. I took it all the way to the back of my throat where I start choking up every time. Back and forth. Slowly at first, then faster.

In our four years together, I've never managed to train my throat to open up so I could take all of Trey's six and a quarter inches. Not that we haven't tried again and again, but the one time I did take his whole length, my gag reflex kicked in and I almost got sick.

But now I was in my rhythm, familiar and comfortable as a favorite soft shirt. I sucked harder now, pulled back, sucked again, and at last began to feel the pulsing of his juice coursing up through his shaft to burst into my mouth. I sucked greedily as a calf at its mother's teat, tasting the warm, salty, thick essence of my man, swirling the liquid in my mouth like a fine wine before swallowing.

As his orgasm subsided, I licked his shaft and head clean with my saliva before opening my mouth and allowing his cock to rest at half staff. Then, as always, I kissed the top of his sensitive glans with pursed lips. I love the way a man's beautiful cock looks.

I moved back up to my side of the bed and snuggled into his muscular body. He turned his face to me. "That was nice," he said. "I have a present for you, too."

"Really?" I said, looking into his hazel eyes.

"Doctor Griggs's office called yesterday before I left work," he said.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I wanted to suprise you," Trey said. "Your appointment's for Tuesday morning."

My mind reeled for a moment. Tuesday. Three days from now. "Oh, baby," I said. "That's wonderful."

He turned full face toward me and I felt his hand on my soft cock. Where his was handsome, mine seemed a mockery of a male organ. Where his was plump, mine seemed shriveled. It was an object from which I felt completely separate and I sometimes wondered why he stayed with me. But then I wasn't considered the master of the strap-on for nothing.

"I thought you'd be pleased." He gave my little marble sack a squeeze. "I'm going to give your balls a bon voyage party," he said. Moving to my groin, he licked my scrotum and then took a testicle into his mouth to suck on like a grape.

Dozens of memories came back into my mind while Trey gave each of my balls his full attention. The first time we met almost five years ago. When we had sex in the autumn leaves in the woods behind our house. The first time I let Trey band me without my guidance. The night he accepted that only an orchidectomy would make me whole, as ironic as that might sound.

Then he moved on to the second ball and I remembered our first appointment with Dr. Grigg. The seperate interviews. The letter of recommendation from my therapist. The hour we and Dr. Grigg spent going over the steps of surgery. The penultimate question, "Are you sure about this?" Followed by, "So why did you wait so long?"

Trey finished bathing my second tiny ball in his mouth and then moved back up to kiss me deeply, looking into my eyes. "I'm not saying I won't miss them," he said, cradling my diminutive balls in a hand. "I will. But it's what you want and it's what will make you happy. Besides, it'll give us new avenues to explore." He reached out with his other hand and touched my cheek. "My little darling eunuch."

It was true. I was already a eunuch in evey way except the remaining physical parts between my legs. By the time I met Trey, I had been clamping the arteries and spermatic cords that led to my testes for seven years. Four years ago my balls were little more than the size of a large white grape each, very soft and pliable to the touch, but still with shape. I was thinking I would never find anyone to love me for who I was. But then I met Trey, who at thirty-two was not only an afficianado of surgically altered males, but had a rare book illustrating the amazing sex an intact male could have with eunuchs and half-eunuchs.

Looking back at a lifetime, it's amazing how tough a testicle is. Years ago, I pierced them with long needles, scraping around the insides of each ball, hoping to shred the fibrous tissue inside. But after a week I still produced sperm in my ejaculate.

I tried squeezing them as flat as I could with a bench vice and managed not to rupture them. Then I became so desperate as to drive 9-penny nails dirctly into each testicle, crucifying them into a wooden board, five nails per ball. They swelled up for a few days, but recovered.

Later, I went a step further and used a butane torch to heat each nail until I couldn't take the burning heat anymore. Again the damned things produced sperm. Banding wasn't effective long-term, but using industrial grade spring clamps targeted at the spermatic cords and arteries on a regular basis helped.

Then, with Trey, we discovered the wonders of chemical castration for me.

My testicles shrank slowly but more noticably than before. My sex drive went from almost nothing to absolutely nothing. The two or three times a year I masturbated I produced no more than a quarter teaspoon of clear ejaculate. This was after twenty-five or thirty minutes of effort with my short, completely limp cock.

My former partner, Kevin, talked a good game about getting an orchie for me. In the end it came down to nothing but empty words and emotional abuse, so I left him. It wasn't until I had given up on love that Trey appeared and rescued me.

Back from my reverie, Trey's hand moved from my face to my waist. Our mirror images never failed to satisfy me. Where Trey was hard, I was soft, Where he was flat and muscled, I was curvy. I was, indeed, his little eunuch. He stood three inches taller than I did which was perfect when we danced. And when I had to tip my head up in order to kiss him, I could melt.

I knew what was next from the way his hand touched me. I rolled over onto my stomach and raised myself onto my knees. I felt Trey behind me, touching first my hips and then massaging my ass. I felt his cock harden as it rubbed up against me, then finding its target between my cheeks.

With just the least prodding, his glans entered me, slipping past my rim and pausing for a brief moment. Then I feel more length and he began pumping in and out, feeding my hungry hole an inch at a time. The muscles inside me contracted to pull his cock further into me even as he pulls back to extend my pleasure. My muscles pull him inward, he pulls back.

It's a beautiful rhythm.

At last I felt him buck behind me and a shiver of pleasure coursed through my body as I know I have left my man completely satisfied.

We exhausted an entire section of his eunuch book that weekend.

Tuesday morning, and I was ready to take on the world. Trey and I arrived at the Griggs Surgery Center. We entered into the prep room. I disrobed and put on a white hospital gown. Dr. Griggs' nurse, Becki, came in with a wheelchair. "It's procedure," she said, and asked, "You shaved this morning?"

"Actually," I say, "I've been clean for years planning this. Electrolysis." I got into the chair.

"Ouch," she said. "You're a better person than I am. I don't know if I could stand the pain."

"Never having stubble any more is worth a little pain, I think," I said. She laughed. "Not to mention a great time saver."

Trey wheeled me alongside Becki as we made our way down the hallway. "The operating theater's smaller than at any of the hospitals, but it's adequate." We stopped before a door I can only describe as "medical green." It's supposed to be calming. It makes me queasy. "I'll be right back," she said.

Trey reached out to touch my hand, giving it a little squeeze. "I have the camera right here," he said. "We'll have this moment forever."

Becki returned, opening the door with the hands-free button. We went through the door and into a room no more than 12 feet by 15 feet. A surgical table awaited beneath a cluster of four round medical lights and a tray of glistening instruments.

I made my way from the wheelchair to the table. My gown was pulled up toward my stomach and I was then draped in green sheets, with only the scrotum exposed. Becki wiped the exposed skin with cold betadine.

Dr. Griggs arrived, nodding to Becki. He looked at me and I could see the smile lines around his eyes. "Don't worry," he said. "You'll be asleep in less than three minutes, I guarantee it." I felt a needle press into my skin. "Count backward from a hundred," the doctor said. I began reciting, "One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight..."

I don't think I made it past ninety-two.

Trey filmed the surgery from beginning to end. To sum it up briefly, the first incision was from below the testicles and the knife cut in an upward movement. A cautery pen was then used to draw a line directly up the center of the scrotum.

When the scrotum was split, the first testicle was pulled out. Aside from the blood on it, it appeared white-gray in color, surrounded by a thin membrane. The membrane around the testicle was cut free with the pen as Nurse Becki held the forceps, keeping the ball pulled taut.

A hole was punched -- not cut through, but punched through -- the skin surrounding the arteries and cords. Dr. Griggs sutured off where he would be cutting these free, while Becki continued holding onto the testicle with a forceps.

The testicle was then clamped off completely with a larger forceps, the arteries and cords clamped with slightly smaller forceps, and the testicle itself cut free with the cautery pen.

At last, the freed testicle was placed in a green plastic cup and set aside. The second testicle was pulled free of the scrotum and lifted clear with the aid of another forceps.

With the second testicle freed, my scrotum looked something like a steel porcupine with all of the forceps clamped against arteries and cords.

Finally, with all of the interior sutures complete, it was time to sew up the flaps of the scrotum. Trey pulled back for a grace shot to end the filming and included Dr. Griggs, a second nurse and nurse Becki around the table, along with the instrument cart. Nurse Becki looked directly into the camera and winked mischieveously.

Two hours later I woke up in a recovery room. The first thing I saw was Trey, gazing at me. "That was so awesome," he said. "You won't believe the video. How do you feel?"

"Okay," I said. "I don't feel anything yet. That's the good part." Then I asked, "So everything turned out okay?"

"Just wait a day and you can see for yourself. I think it'll look terrific once all of the swelling goes down."

We went home four hours later where gently, very gently, I recuperated. True to his word, I was amazed at how quickly the surgery itself went and Trey's artful documentary style cmera work was admirable. The objects I had spent most of my life reviling were excised with no greater difficulty than an appendectomy. Once the swelling went down and I was able to touch myself, I felt an inner peace I had never known as a teenager or an adult.

Now when we have sex, Trey enjoys pressing up against me with his hard cock, nestling it up against the scrotal sac where my balls once took up residence. He pushes up against my tiny, soft penis, where I can feel his cock rub up against mine. It's an electric experience and one that never fails to take my breath away.

After having watched Dr. Griggs remove my testicles, Trey is more than ready for my own next modification, which he says he will do for me as I watch. We're going to split my glans in half, then quarter it, and then remove each quarter a piece at a time until we have completed our own do-it-yourself glansectomy. Then we'll go back to Dr. Griggs for removal of the rest of the shaft of my penis, so I will be a true nullo at last.

I can't wait.