Choice, The - Part 1

THE CHOICE

At the time my wife and I had that very important conversation, almost a year ago, I had no idea it was that important to our relationship.  There were obviously hidden levels, but my embarrassment at the topic kept me from seeing them.

My wife, Sharon, who teaches biological sciences at our local college, and her best friend Sarah, who teaches psychology classes there, were in the habit of meeting during their free time during the day.  At those times, they'd talk about whatever it is women talk about when there are no men around.  It was during one of those casual meetings they discussed the subject that Sharon brought up that night during our evening meal.

The two women had attended the same college as students, and had become fast friends during that time.  When it came time to choose their workplaces, they decided to seek employment in the same city, in order to continue their association, and both accepted jobs teaching at the secondary level.  When they advanced in their chosen fields, they continued to observe the restriction on location, never accepting a job offer if the other couldn't also find work in the new location.  When the teaching openings were advertised at our local college, it was a golden opportunity, and they jumped at the chance to move up.

When Sharon and I were married, it was a double wedding, since Sarah and Bob chose to be joined at the same time.  We even honeymooned at the same place, and our friendships have not wavered in the years that followed.  It was common for our dinner conversations to make reference to our close friends, and that's why nothing seemed out of the ordinary when my wife began one such conversation by referring to the other woman.

She began, "Sarah and I talked about something interesting during one of our breaks today.  She said she'd read a book recently that discussed the idea of "maleness" and what it means in terms of a man's body and his brain.  She said the author had the theory that a man's concept of self is very heavily tied up in his genitals, which is nothing earth-shaking, I guess.  I'm sure most people would agree with that, don't you?"

I nodded my head, then agreed further by replying, "That's pretty self-evident.  Surely that wouldn't be the basis for an entire book, would it?"

She smiled, then continued, "Actually, the focus of the book was a survey the author had done among more than 1,000 men.  She had formed the theory that a man's behavior was controlled by his testicles, and their hormones, but that his concept of self was based upon his penis.  The main part of the survey was a question asking the men what their choice would be if they were forced to choose to give up either their penis or their testicles.  It's an interesting concept, isn't it?"

To say it was interesting was an understatement, from my point of view.  You see, that particular topic had been at the center of my sexual fantasies for many years, although I was sure my wife had no idea that was so.  I was sure I'd never given her any reason to think I was fascinated with losing something "down there," although this conversation was giving me cause to wonder.

I'm not sure just when my fetish developed, but knew it had been foremost in my fantasies for many years.  When the Internet became widespread several years ago, we'd been among the "early adopters."  My line of work is as a computer consultant, and I'm the owner of a small business that specializes in troubleshooting computer-related problems in homes and businesses.  It didn't take me long to discover the many sexually-oriented Websites that are available, and as I used the Internet more and more, my interests began to center on a particular subject.  That subject, as you've probably guessed, was the removal of a man's equipment, usually by his wife or some other woman.

In terms of the question asked in the book survey, I'd long ago answered it for myself.  I knew that if given that choice, I'd choose to give up my cock, and with no hesitation at all.  Virtually every story I read, every photograph I looked at, and every video I watched, was centered on a man losing his most precious possession: his dick.  In fact, the large majority of my online time was spent in two Yahoo! groups, "Penectomy" and "Castration and Penectomy."  That my wife was now talking about the subject I found so fascinating made it hard for me to concentrate on her words.

As I said, I was sure she had no idea about my fantasy.  We each have our own computers, mine in my home office, and hers in her bedroom.  I felt secure in my ability to hide my special folders, and was confident she'd never discover them, even though we share a broadband connection, and "file and printer sharing" is enabled so she can use my printer if she ever wants to.

Still, it was discomfiting to sit there at our dining table and hear her talking about men being asked to choose between losing their cocks or their balls.  I struggled to wrench my brain out of its fog, and heard her saying, "Sarah said she was going to ask Bob which he'd rather give up.  I told her I'd ask you the same question, and then we'd compare your answers to the survey results."

She looked at me questioningly, and waited for my response.  Again my mind was in turmoil as I tried to come to terms with what she was asking me, and I struggled to give the appearance of actually thinking about the subject.

Finally I answered, "Well, I think I'd rather keep my hormones so I wouldn't turn into a woman.  That would seem to leave only one logical choice.  I'd give up my penis."  There's no way for me to describe the thrill that shot through my chest as I said those words, and again I struggled to maintain my composure.

Sharon smiled, then said, "Okay.  It'll be interesting to see what Bob's choice will be.  Sarah wouldn't tell me which answer most of the men gave in the survey, because she didn't want me to influence your choice.  If I remember, I'll tell you tomorrow night."

She changed the subject then, and again I struggled to keep up with the conversation.  All the time we talked, my mind was still boiling with what we'd talked about, and how I'd told her I would choose to have my cock cut off.  How I longed to find some way to get us talking about that subject again, but just couldn't think of a casual way to do it.  Uppermost in my mind was the burning question I wanted to ask my wife, and it was, "Would you still want me if I lost my penis?"  The even-more pertinent question was, "Would you like to cut it off me?"  Of course, neither was asked then, and I'm sure you can sympathize with my frustration.

That night I almost attacked my wife in her bed.  We had slept in separate bedrooms for the last five years of our fifteen-year marriage, because I had begun to snore.  Sharon finally could no longer endure the lack of sleep, and we both agreed that separate bedrooms was the only answer.  We still had sex a couple of times a week, though, usually initiated by me going to her room on Saturday and Thursday nights.  Don't ask me why that schedule had come about, because I have no idea.  It's just the way it was for us.

As I said, I was very turned on that night, and wanted sex very badly, even though it was a Tuesday.  Sharon didn't seem surprised, and soon we were coupling.  Oddly enough, she seemed more aroused than usual also, but at the time I was so wrapped up in my own fantasy that I didn't stop to think why that was so.  I suppose that, like most men, I ascribed it to my love-making abilities, rather than any outside influence.

The next day, I was still in a funk as I reviewed our dinner conversation over and over.  I resolved to remind my wife of her promise to tell me about the survey, assuming she didn't remember it on her own.  It would be much better if she'd introduce the subject, and spare me the embarrassment of seeming too eager to talk about something like that.

Again we sat at the table eating dinner, and again I struggled as I tried to hold up my end of the conversation.  Over and over I tried to think of some way to get her to talk about last night's subject, and just as I was ready to blurt out something, she asked, "Do you remember the survey I told you about last night?"

I eagerly nodded my head, not saying anything.

She continued, "Well, today Sarah and I compared our own 'results,' and then she told me what the book's author had found.  Guess what?  You and Bob both made the same choice.  He said he'd give up his penis before his testicles, just like you.  What makes that odd is that according to the book, 85% of the men who answered that question said they'd give up their testicles.  Isn't it strange that you two guys made a different choice?"

She paused then, and waited for me to reply.  I racked my brain trying to come up with something appropriate, and finally said, "I guess that just means we're out of the ordinary.  Surely you and Sarah always knew we were special, didn't you?"

We both laughed at my feeble attempt at humor, and then, to my extreme satisfaction, Sharon continued that line of thought by saying, "There's no question of that.  Otherwise, we'd never have married you guys."

She went on, "There was one thing that wasn't mentioned in the book, though, that I thought was pretty important.  I was wondering if the method of removal would influence a man to answer one way or another.  Surely if a man were given the choice of having his balls crushed by an elephant, and then chewed off by a starving rat, as opposed to having his cock surgically removed in a hospital, he'd choose the latter.  Don't you think so?  Or if his choice were to have his cock slowly roasted while he was suspended over a barbecue pit, and then eaten off him by his wife, as opposed to being castrated in a hospital setting, he'd choose to lose his balls.  Anyway, that's my opinion.  What's yours?"

To this day, almost a year later, I can recall clearly the extreme arousal I felt from listening to her descriptions.  The visual image called up by her words was so close to my actual fantasy that I was sure she had seen a particular piece of artwork I'd downloaded and saved in my special folder.  It showed a naked man suspended horizontally over a backyard barbecue unit, with his crotch centered over the red-hot coals.  A woman was sitting at a nearby picnic table, an empty plate in front of her, and a bottle of steak sauce beside it.  She was holding a fork, and gazing hungrily at the man's slowly-roasting cock, which was enormously rampant.  When I masturbated, it was that scene that slowly played over and over in my mind.  It always brought me to completion, even though I'd been using it as jack-off material for over two years at that time.

I really can't recall anything else of our conversation that night, but I'm sure I must have replied in some offhand manner, trying to cover my arousal and embarrassment.  I do remember that our lovemaking that night was some of the most passionate and satisfying in many years.  Again Sharon's excitement seemed to be a match for my own, and again I felt extremely satisfied I was able to give her that sort of arousal, even after all those years of marriage.

We didn't talk again of that subject, even though I longed for us to do so.  I was simply too embarrassed to bring it up, and she seemed to have no further interest in it.  We seemed to slip back to our "usual" schedule for sex, and even though I'd never forget what we'd talked about, it seemed to be of consequence to my wife.

____________________________

There is one other thing I want to include in this story, although I can't come up with a logical reason for it.  Somehow, I feel compelled to tell you about the necklaces Sharon and Sarah wear at all times.

The things are rather ordinary looking, really nothing more than glass pendants hanging on gold chains.  The chains are long enough to allow the jewels to be suspended between their breasts, which are striking and lovely features of both women.  The women bought the matching necklaces right after they first met, and have worn them ever since.  Sharon even wears hers when we make love, and I'm sure her friend does the same thing.

The pendants are teardrop shaped, and have many facets.  When held up to the light, they seem to capture the rays and then send forth a cascade of rainbows, dazzling anyone to sees them.  Sarah, who was trained in the uses of hypnotism as a part of psychotherapy, says the pendants could be employed to focus a subject's attention prior to putting him in a hypnotized state.

I'm not sure I believe it though, since she once tried to hypnotize me by holding the thing  in front of my face, twirling it slowly, and talking softly to me.  The only effect it had was to make me see something deep inside the jewel.  I can't seem to recall just exactly what it was I thought I saw there, but remember that it was interesting to look at.  At any rate, I looked away from the thing after a few seconds, and told Sarah that I guessed I just wasn't a good subject for hypnotism.  I remember she and Sharon both laughed, and then agreed with me.

As I said, I don't know why I have such a strong urge to tell you about the necklaces, but there it is, for what it's worth.

_______________________

It had been our habit for several years to take our annual summer vacation with Bob and Sarah.  We were all good friends, and it was very rare for us to disagree about anything.  I suppose that was why he and I had made similar choices in the informal "survey" our wives had given us.  I guess it's not odd that he and I never did compare our answers, given the reticence most men would feel about discussing such an intensely personal thing with another person.

When the time came for us to make our plans for the vacation trip we took three months ago, there was never any question that the four of us would eventually agree on the same destination.  When we had our twice-a-month dinner get-togethers, one time at their house, and the next at ours, we casually discussed various places we could go.  It seemed that our wives were exerting more influence than usual on our choice, but it wasn't overt enough to seem odd to either of us.  When we finally agreed that we'd drive down to Mexico, to a destination resort on the Baja Peninsula, both Sharon and Sarah seemed very pleased.  Since it didn't matter all that much to either Bob or me, we were happy to be accommodating.  The reservations were made the next day, and we marked the departure date on our calendars.

As soon as the Spring Semester was wrapped up, and the grades turned in to the Registrar, we packed up Bob and Sarah's car with our suitcases, hopped in, and left town, heading south to the land of adventure.  Little did Bob or I know just what that adventure would involve.  However, even if we had known, I'm sure we'd have gone anyway.  I know for sure I would, and I believe he feels the same way.

The trip covered over 1,000 miles, and we took our time, stopping at every tourist trap along the way.  Our nights were spent in our separate motel rooms, and it seemed as if Sharon had developed an insatiable desire for sex.  We had relations every night, and sometimes again early in the morning.  On several occasions, Bob and Sarah were next door to us, and judging by the noises we could hear through the wall, they were as horny as we were.

After three days on the road, we passed through the border checkpoint and entered Tijuana.  We had planned to spend a couple of days there, and had an enjoyable time seeing the sights and eating the local food.  We did some gambling in casinos, and even went to a triple-X movie one night.  I'm not sure who chose the movie, but I know that I found it to be very engrossing.  The theme was S&M, and was very much FemDom in nature.  As we sat there, watching men being punished by their mistresses and wives, my cock was hard all the time.  Judging by the way Bob tried to hide his crotch when we left the theater, his reaction was the equal of mine.

Again we had wild sex that night and the next morning.  As we drove south again, the mood in the car seemed to be more subdued than usual, and I ascribed it to fatigue from all the work the four of us had done the night before.

After a short drive, we reached Ensanada and headed east.  Out destination was located several miles inland from the west coast, and it was mid-afternoon when we arrived.  Sharon had been our "navigator" since crossing the border, as she was the one who had made the reservations, and had the map sent by the resort.  It's a good thing she had that map, because the place was off the main highway, and required lots of turning onto smaller and smaller roads.

We did finally arrive though, and found the place to be surrounded by a rather imposing chain-link fence, with several strands of barbed wire running along the top.  The top wires were leaning inward, which was odd, since it implied their purpose was to keep something (or someone) in, rather than out.  We arrived at the entrance then, and as Sharon spoke to the guard there, I had other things to think about.

The man found our names on his clipboard, and the gate was opened to allow us to enter.  After a short drive, we arrived at a large building with an ornate entryway.  Before the car had even pulled to a stop, two uniformed attendants met us, thanking us for coming and begging to be allowed to carry our suitcases.  It was obvious the gate guard had called ahead, since the two men addressed us by title and last name.

We were soon checked in and settled in our respective rooms.  Since the dinner hour was much later here than in the States, we had time on our hands, so decided to spend it becoming familiar with the place.

We were just coming out of our respective rooms when a lovely young Hispanic woman walked up the hallway toward us.  She introduced herself as Carmelita, and then directed all her attention to Sharon and Sarah, almost as if we men were of no importance.  At one point, she asked Bob and I to remain where we were, and then took our wives by their elbows and escorted them a short distance away.  As the women talked, they glanced several times at us, and usually the young woman would nod her head before again resuming the conversation.  I assumed that the women were planning some sort of surprise for us, and wondered what it would be.

Our wives then looked our way and motioned us to join them.  After we had done so, Sharon said, "Carmelita has suggested we go to the bar and have a drink before dinner.  Is that okay with you guys?"  Bob and I nodded our heads, then followed the three women down the hallway and into the bar.

There was no bartender there, which was odd.  However, Carmelita did the honors herself, and after asking each of us our pleasure, went behind the bar while we seated ourselves at a table beside a window that overlooked the grounds.  We idly watched a few couples walking around outside, and chatted about things we'd seen on the drive.  Sarah referred to the movie we'd seen the night before by saying, "That was a good movie, wasn't it?  Did you like it as much as Bob?  He seemed to think it was pretty exciting."

The two women laughed softly at our obvious embarrassment, and then nodded their heads as we mumbled something about the movie being "interesting."  Just then Carmelita arrived with our drinks, and we sat listening to her speak in her lovely accent as she described her employment at the resort, and saying how exciting it was to be a part of what was done there.

By the time I had swallowed about half my drink, I realized I was sitting silently, gazing raptly at my wife.  I slowly turned my head to Bob, and saw he was looking at Sarah in exactly the same way.  The sound of my name made me turn to look at Sarah, and I saw she had taken her pendant out of her blouse and was slowly twirling it.  The dim overhead lights seemed to be multiplied by many times as they flashed brilliantly from each facet.  I remember feeling very drunk at that time, and my arms and legs were almost asleep with fatigue.

Sarah then said, as if from a great distance, "They're ready.  Let's take them to the preparation room now."