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I had taken the option of castration, as the only viable cure for prostate cancer.About four months after the operation, tests indicated that there were no active cancer cells .It was too early to proclaim me cured, but my castration, under these circumstances, was a gain rather than a loss. The amount of medication I was on was reduced, with a further reduction anticipated, with favorable results from the next series of tests. After that, it would be just a matter of having a routine examination and a simple test about every six months. I was fairly fit, my body had adjusted well and I was happy. My scrotal sac, without the weight and bulk of my balls, had shriveled to a small patch of sensuous skin, partially covered by my much reduced but still, highly active and effective penis. It had shrunk into my thickened foreskin and since the area was covered by my thick bush, a casual glance would register a more female appearance. An enlarged clitoris, rather than an atrophied penis. However, when erect and engorged with blood, my penis was about five inches, which had surprised and even delighted, those who knew. Aided by frequent applications of Yam ointment, my nipples had grown to about the same diameter as my little finger, each topping a swollen mound of dark, areola, about two inches across . My breasts had grown to the point of making my nipples protrude more, but were not proportionately large. If I ran, or made any sudden movement, I could feel their weight and would possibly need the support of a bra, should there be further development. Normally, and especially for work, I wore I loose fitting shirt that was not revealing, but under certain circumstances, I wore tighter fitting garments. They helped advertise who I was and what I was about, to those who might be interested. The whole area was abuzz with itinerant workers. European backpackers on a years working visa, drawn to Australia by her blue skies, beautiful beaches and vast, inviting horizons .Asians, from the near north, attracted by the comparatively high wages: Indonesians, Malaysians, some Indians, the ubiquitous Chinese; many New Zealanders and a few North Americans. A mosaic of orchards ,vineyards and small crops on arable land broken up by surrealistic outcrops of granite, huge boulders, twisted eucalypts and crystal clear creeks.Hard working, Italians developed this stern, unyielding, land in the early to middle of the twentieth century. Now, fine wines, fruit, and open handed hospitality is its hallmark. I worked for Joe and Maria Carbonne since I arrived. It was hard and unrelenting, but they were fair and I did not expect payment for nothing. One became hardened and was better off because of it. A lot of Dutch Backpackers started with me, but as soon as they had enough money to go down to the nearby Gold Coast, with its World famous beaches, fleshpots and many other attractions, they were gone. Others moved in. There was a continual turnover. As time passed, Joe gradually gave me more responsibility and asked me to mentor the new people. There was no extra money, but it was a give and take situation that gave me more freedom, flexibility and job satisfaction. In any case, the farmers were not rich. The middlemen- the Multinationals-who control the marketing, make the real money. At the peak of the season, the hotels, hostels and camping grounds were packed with pickers, who were there to work, but had a good time as well. All the pubs were busy .For four months of the year the area was a bustling microcosm of the wider world. I concentrated on the picking and let friendships develop. A couple in their mid forties had a caravan and I said hello to them on my way to the amenities. He was a big sun- bronzed guy who looked like a surf life saver. Johns blue eyes twinkled with good humor and he was always joking. Helen was also friendly, but a little reserved and of a less boisterous nature. She had an almost boyish figure and always wore work-clothes that one associates with cattle. A Cowboy hat, western shirt, boots and a big ornate belt. I assumed that she was a stockwoman a cowgirl. One could have even called her mannish. They worked on a different farm from me. Pickers work long hours to get the crops in, but there are times when it is not so hectic. This day was one of those times. I was sitting at one of the many shaded tables drinking a bottle of beer. The seats on my original pants had worn out from long hours on the bicycle. Subtle though the changes were, I knew that my body shape had changed since my castration. My hips were wider and my waist was so slim. Ladies pants were a far better fit and also suited the way I saw myself. Not a woman, but a different sort of man - a eunuch and they come in all shapes and sizes, with many variations, like everybody else in this world. I was just another variation. I wore long pants and a tight Tee shirt. My breasts pushed my big nipples against the material and the black ladies jeans hugged my almost flat, ball less, crotch. John saw me and came over. He noticed my appearance, made no comment, but his eyes said it all. I told him about my case, my castration, perceived cure and apparent stabilization. Noticed something different about you and so did Helen, but that doesnt matter. We take people as we find them. He said, in a matter of fact tone. In any case, we both think you wear it well and would like to get to know you better. Yes, we seem to have a lot in common, but weve all be flat out working. This has been our first day off and well all be back into it tomorrow. I said, thinking about what I had just heard. I could see Helen over by their caravan. So, come over, Helens waiting over there. He smiled, and his eyes told me all I needed to know. We went inside. Helen gave us both a beer and they sat down on a wide couch. I hesitated for a second and sat in the space between them. This was it. Helen gave my jutting nipples a gentle twitch and said, very nice, verrryyy nice! A bolt of lightening shot down to the base of my cock- to where my balls used to be. I sucked in a long breath through pursed lips. She grinned a mischievous grin and said, I thought you would like that, as she did it again. Have a go, John. I quickly pulled my Tee shirt off and John worked on my nipples. I thought they would explode. As he masturbated my bursting nipples,Helen lost no time in removing my pants . Its turned into Godzilla! She exclaimed as she saw my now erect and hard cock. Ive never seen anything like it. They stripped and my eyes feasted on Johns huge erection and tight, but bulging ball bag. A wave of delirious desire swept through my whole being! I straddled him. My back facing his front and gripped his big, throbbing penis in my thighs and rocked so that it rubbed my shriveled sac. Then, I masturbated both cocks and looking down it appeared as if I had two cocks. His, big and blue veined, under mine which was much smaller and without the huge, heart shaped, head and major arteries. I looked at Helens body as she lay down in front of us. It was snow white with small well shaped breasts and small pink nipples. She smiled as she opened her legs and parted the thick, black pubic hair. An open invitation. I still was masturbating John but had moved slightly to facilitate his fingering of my eager anus. I sank down to where she lay, now, on a couple of pillows for elevation. I entered her dripping pussy , played with her pert, pink paps and adjusted my arse to accommodate John,who was gently knocking on my door. I slowly swallowed his cock with my anus and let him make the running with Helen also feeling his firm and steady thrusts. Suddenly, he quickened his pace and exploded in my anus. Spent , he backed out and I picked up the pace with Helen. She said, Dont worry about John. He likes to watch. Lets change position. We got up and John masturbated me as we both watched Helen insert a double- ended dildo into her vagina and adjusted the straps. She was smiling as she did this, obviously, well rehearsed act, and said, This is what I really like. Are you ready? She need not have asked me, because I was already on my back, my body throbbing in anticipation. She expertly entered my anus .The dildo felt good and hard as any cock could be. It was heaven as she continued pumping and continually masturbating my cock, rubbing its base, my redundant ball bag and obscenely swollen nipples. After what seemed a geological age of ecstasy, she said, Lets do it doggy. She took me from behind. John watched and wanked and when his cock was again rock hard, I performed fellatio. Fucking his urethra with my tongue as Helen continued banging away from the back. John blew his bolt as I softly squeezed has balls and swallowed his cum as if it was ambrosia. John staggered off, no doubt to cum back later. This is what I call fucking. she grinned . It is and for anyone having any, unnatural, qualms regarding homosexuality; this is as heterosexual as you can get. I quipped. A man,a women and nothing in between them. |