First and Last Orgasm

Ok, this one is dedicated to the imagination of Bboy, the guy that 
runs the Archive.  Thanks for all your hard work.  I hope I have 
done your idea justice.  This is part 1, I have not yet finnished 
part 2.  I am the author of Queen's Race, this Gay story is a 
streach for me.  Please leave feedback for me.  I takes me a long 
time to write these stories.  Oh, I took a little licence and 
changed some details, there is still room for another to give the 
Idea the form it needs. 

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                      First and Last Orgasm

	Greetings, my name is Jerry, I will never be able to have 
what is considered a normal orgasm again in my life.  I am twenty 
years old; it has been two years since I had a penectomy to remove 
my dick.  Currently, I am struggling with many isues: my sexual 
identity, my decision to remove my penis, and how to explain my 
situation to my friends and family.  I have been a long time reader 
of the Eunuch Archive; in fact, it helped me reach my decision to 
undergo the penectomy in the first place.  Now, I hope that putting 
my feelings into words and posting them on the Archive will help me 
cope with my situation.
	Let me start by telling you about my first orgasm.  I 
jerked off to the thought of loss - the loss of my foreskin.  My 
first orgasm occurred when I was twelve years old and in Seventh 
Grade.  I learned about my male equipment in Human Health and 
Sexuality class that my parents had me signed up for.  The class 
met after school and was a special test program designed to give us 
young kids some knowledge of our sexuality before we began to 
experiment on our own.  The class was voluntary and could only be 
take if your parents signed a special consent form.  Parents were 
warned that we were going to be given graphic details about sex at 
this early age.
	During the fist day of classes, Mr. Fletcher tacked a huge 
poster of the male and female anatomy on the black board.  It was 
then that the majority of us American boys leaned what had been 
taken from us as babies in circumcision.  Mr. Fletcher even had 
slides showing penises with and without foreskins.  An audible gasp 
went out from us guys when we leaned what had been done to us.  The 
girls seemed to be unconcerned, however, some chuckled and 
snickered.  One guy raised his hand and asked if we would be able 
to have sex without a foreskin.  Mr. Fletcher was a bit taken aback 
by the question and said that our parents had no problem with 
intercourse, pointing out that we were here, and that the 
circumcision does not remove a lot of the penis tissue.  More boys 
asked exactly how much was taken from us and if the loss would 
result in a size reduction of our dicks.  Mr. Fletcher, realizing 
our misconceptions, and hoping to avoid the usual rumors, described 
the circumcision operation in great detail.  
As for me, I sat in rapt attention, the though of my penis being 
cut sent a strange feeling over me.  I tingled with excitement as I 
pictured myself, a few days old, naked on a table with a doctor 
standing over me with a scalpel.  Shivers charged through my body 
as Mr. Fletcher described how the foreskin is pulled back, 
stretched out, clamped, crushed and then sliced off newborns.  We 
learned that the head of our penis is now permently exposed and we 
have a small ring scar just below the head from the circumcision.  
Then, in an effort to show how common circumcision is in American 
boys, Mr. Fletcher asked for a show of hands as to who was 
circumcised.  While all of the American boys had been cut, three 
Hispanic boys from Mexico, my close friend Miguel among them, were 
still intact.   I could see some of the girls take note and file 
that bit of information away.  Were they hoping to get a comparison 
of the difference?  I sure wanted to see what I had lost.  I guess 
that is where my fixation with genital modification began.
Later on in the class, I had no interest in the description of 
female anatomy.  I found the description of the vagina 
disgusting.   The thought of entering a vagina with my penis was 
revolting to me.  I was much more interested in my penis and the 
penises of the other boys in my class.  I guess that was the first 
stirrings of my homosexual feelings.
That day when I got home, I went into the bathroom to get a good 
look at my dick.  I droped both my pants and my underpants to the 
floor.  Feeling a tingle of erotic excitement, I touched the head 
of my penis and found how sensitive and tender my head was.  I 
rubbed my head with my thumb and index finger, then I found the 
sensitive area directly underneath the head.  I noticed how 
sensitive my penis was between the bottom of the head to the 
circumcision scar.  Oh, how wonderful that feeling was.  My penis 
began to stiffen from my touch.  Naturally, I began to rub the palm 
of my hand up and down the shaft of my dick, paying special 
attention to the area around my circumcision scar.  My pubic hair 
was just beginning to grow; I had a few wefts of hair just above my 
penis.  I thought of my foreskin being cut off as I jerked myself 
off for the first time.  Within a few minutes my body was 
convulsing with my impending first orgasm.  At that point, I 
stroked from my head to the scar and exploded in my first orgasm.  
I shot several thick strings of my sperm onto the bathroom floor.  
I was also shocked and revolted at what I had done.  I could not 
believe how disgusting and smelly my semen was, in addition to my 
embarrassment at making a mess on the floor.  That was my first 
orgasm; my second orgasm happened later in the night while I was in 
bed and tracing the area of my penis, with my fingers, where my 
circumcision took place.
From that moment, I began to think about genital modification.  My 
masturbation sessions would be intense, but filled with shame and 
revulsion at the filthiness of my penis and ejaculation.  I never 
though of girls during these self pleasure sessions.  To me, they 
were just people, I had no sexual feelings for them at all.  My 
friends would talk about girl’s breasts, their pussies, and fucking 
the girls.  I was not interested in the slightest bit; although I 
did play along.  
By the age of fourteen, I assumed that I was gay.  My fixation with 
my penis had become an obsession.  Masturbation had begun to have a 
negative effect on my life.  I was whacking off several times a 
day, and felt sick about it all the time.  I then began to resent 
my penis, blaming the obsession for reducing my drive and 
ambition.  In the Tenth Grade my grades began to slip from solid 
A’s.  I had gone from the top of my class to somewhere in the top 
ten.  In an effort to help me regain the edge, my parents bought me 
a powerful computer with an Internet connection.  That’s when I 
discovered the Eunuch Archive.
I stumbled onto the archive by accident.  When I learned what a 
search engine was, the first words I plugged in related to the 
penis.  I think the archive popped up in a search of “castration” 
or perhaps it was “genital modification”.  However I found it, it 
was an eye opening experience for me.   I could not believe the 
stories of men losing their penises.  Thoughts of getting my penis 
cut off filled my mind as I would masturbate.  I was indifferent to 
my balls.  They just hung in their sack and hurt when fondled.  No, 
it was my penis that I was having an affair with.  The thought of 
losing my penis is what made me excited in some strange sexual 
way.  To lose my dick, what delicious feelings that provoked in 
me.  To have my male member, my pleasure, my tormentor, sliced off; 
that brought me to sexual frenzy.  I knew this was unnatural, but I 
accepted my fate.
As expected, I did not do well in the world of dating.  I avoided 
the student dances; instead studying in my room and jacking off 
several times a day.  My fantasies of losing my penis began to take 
over all of my autoerotic thoughts.  At the same time, I wished to 
be rid of this detestable practice of masturbation.  I felt alone, 
ridiculed by my pears, and resentful of my penis.  I turned to the 
Web in an effort to find help.  What I ended up finding was 
information about real castrations and penectomy.  At the age of 
sixteen, I began to seriously consider the option of going through 
with an operation to remove my penis to be free of its influence on 
my life.  I did not want to have sex with girls, I was not openly 
gay and had never had a sexual encounter with another boy; why 
should I keep this revolting part of my anatomy, I reasoned.  I was 
just too shy to talk to others about my homosexual feelings, nor 
did I want a sexual relationship with another man.  What would stir 
my sexual feelings was seeing my friend’s cocks swing and sway in 
the showers, especially Miguel’s uncut member.  I was very 
confused.  Instead of thinking where to stick my dick, I began to 
plan for my eventual penectomy.
I learned that one could have this operation from my lurking on the 
web.   I was very excited to learn about this possibility though 
some of the posts on the Archive.  Wow!  Although I could not get 
this operation from a doctor in the US, it seemed that doctors in 
Mexico were less inhibited with regulations, they just wanted the 
money.  From my after school jobs, I began to set aside some money 
each week.  By the age of eighteen, my senior year in high school, 
I had enough money for the trip to Mexico and the operation.  
Through my contacts on the Internet, and from phone calls to a 
clinic in Aquapulco, I knew all about what I had to do.
My senior year was very depressing for me.  I was at the top of my 
class, my teachers all thought I was a great student, I worked 
hard, but I had very few friends.  My geeky looks, glasses and 
freckles, had me religated to the nerd section.  I guess my 
homosexual feelings, fixation on my penis, combines with my 
shyness, had made me look like a social freak.  I was alone and 
confused with my thoughts.  This isolation made me even more 
committed to go through with having my penis surgically removed.  
In December, I began to float the idea of my going to Mexico for 
senior spring break.  My parents were apprehensive, to say the 
least, about letting me go to Mexico.  They asked why the beaches 
of California, my home state, were not good enough for me.  I knew 
that over time I could wear them down, so I countered with the 
argument that exposure to a new culture would be good for me.  
Besides, I said, my fried Miguel would go with me, showing me his 
native land and peoples.  I guess that reassured my parents, in 
February they gave their permission.
I had a lot to things to do in a short time to make this trip 
successful, at least successful in my mind.  I could not believe 
that I was conspiring to get my penis removed.  I guess my 
excitement showed as ran around the house talking and planning my 
trip.  My little brother even tried to beg me to take him.  I had 
to put triple passwords on my computer to insure that he did not 
get a look at my files from the Eunuch Archive.  
As for my friend Miguel, we had stayed close from our middle school 
days.  At lunch the following week, I asked him about taking spring 
break in Mexico.  He was very excited that I was going to see his 
home country, then became a little shocked when I asked him to 
accompany me.  His main obstacle was money, but I assured him that 
we would live on the cheep at some beach in Aquapulco.  To sweeten 
the deal, I offered to pay for his travel expenses, since he would 
be acting as my guide and interpreter.  With a handshake, we sealed 
the deal.  My mind was spinning at the thought that my fantasy was 
so close to coming true.  Spring break was in four weeks, each 
night I would jerk off several times at the thought I would soon 
lose my penis.  Oh how intense my ejaculations were.  My mind and 
body knew that my sexual function would soon be lost, each squirt 
of sperm brought me closer to final liberation.  My body tingled 
with sheer excitement.  Although, I did have some misgivings about 
undergoing such a permanent act, sometimes the thought of what I 
was going to have done terrified me.  On the other hand, all the 
planning and scheming stiffened, in a manner of speaking, my 
resolve.  Sometimes in the shower, I would look down at my dick and 
say, “soon little man you are going to be sniped off.”  Then I 
would mimic scissors motion to the base of my penis with my index 
and forefinger.  That act alone would sometimes get me off.  I was 
happy to see my sperm wash down the drain.  
Faster than I realized, school closed for spring vacation in 
March.  The weather had just begun to feel warm and spring like.  
How ironic, I thought, that nature was gong about its sexual 
release in the spring, while I was seeing to it that I would no 
longer have my penis.  I had made all the arrangements for my 
penectomy with the clinic in Aquapulco over a payphone down the 
street from me.  Everything was set and in motion, I would have my 
penis cut off the day after I arrived in the city, then it would 
take five full days for me to heal enough to travel back home, 
which coenciede with the length of  vacation exactly.  Somehow, I 
would have to get the stitches taken out of my wound, but, I 
figured I could have that done at an emergency room.  I would give 
a false name and be out of there before too many questions could be 
asked, and hey, what was done would be already done.  Nope, no 
worries on the medical front.  I had researched the operation, 
checked out the pictures on the internet, and made all my plans.  
Oh, how sexual erotic the pictures of those guys without their 
penises looked.  No protrusion sticking between my legs, no more 
torment and control from my penis, no more useless sexual tool.  
I would no longer be able to pee standing up, in fact, my urethra 
would be positioned further down between my legs to keep me from 
making a mess when I pissed.  After a lot of thought, I decided to 
keep my balls.  I figured that that would make me a half eunuch. 
Going  completely nullo was a bit extreme for me.  I guessed that 
by removing my penis, the root of my sexual fixation,  I would be 
free of sexual thoughts and torment.  I did not know how wrong that 
assumption was.	
    Instead, my two great fears were getting caught before I could 
go through with my plans, and keeping what I had done a secret to 
my family.  My little brother was quite a bug and snoop.  As for 
Miguel, I figured he would have to know, but I could keep it from 
him until after my operation.  I had faith that my friend would 
help me after the operation and that he would respect my wishes to 
keep my actions a secret.
     Miguel and I left for Mexico on a Saturday.  We would go by 
train, since I could not afford airfare for the both of us.  The 
night before the trip I could not sleep, I must have jerked my dick 
at least a dozen times.  I could not keep my hands off my prick, by 
the time I finally dozed off, I was squerting a few wattery drops 
of semen.  I figured that I had run myself dry and clear of sperm.  
My little brother woke me in the morning by jumping on my bed.  
What a little brat, if he got close to me after I was cut, he might 
find my secret.  
    Anyway, Miguel and I boarded the train under the hot California 
sun.  The sky was bright and full of light.  I had a feeling of 
going to heaven, everything seemed to be coming togeather for me.  
During the eight hour ride to Aquapulco, Miguel and I got to know 
eachother better than ever.  We talked of our excitement of this 
trip, and bonded in a way that we never had before.  Somehow, a 
sexual tension began to develop between us.  The conversation 
developed sexual overtones when Miguel asked if I would be 
intrested in going to a nude beach with him.  At first I was 
shocked at the idea, my shy side was getting gittery, but deep 
down, I wanted to show off my cock before it was cut.  Miguel made 
a refrence to my circumcized dick, in fact, he said, “the girls are 
going to wonder where the rest of you is.”  We laughed and I 
responded by saying, “well, I’m going to be the most nude guy on 
the beach with my head exposed for all to see.”  We laughed at the 
the thought of our different pricks, inside I was thrilled that I 
would get the chance to see Miguel in all his glory and I did 
wonder what the Mexicans would think of my cut dick.  My other 
thought drifted into thinking what it would be like to show up on 
that sort of beach without a dick at all.  I imagined walking up to 
people with just my pee hole and balls hanging between my legs.  
When the guys and girls would shift there eyes to evaluate my 
equipment, something that I assumed would always happen on those 
beaches, I would be sure to catch the expression on their faces 
when they realized what I was.  Oh, that delicious thought stayed 
with my all the way to Aquapulco.  My fate awaited my arival.