{ASSTR 09 version 07} Jillie Chopcock, Circumciser from Hell {Big Billie}
(circ F/MMM, spank M/F)
Jillie Chopcock, Circumciser from Hell
By Big Billie
© Big Billie 2008. Not to be distributed or sold for monetary gain.
Author's Statement: Big Billie is opposed to circumcision and spanking
except for consenting adults. However, circumcision and spanking
sexually excite him, so he writes about them.
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Author’s Prologue
For an account of my experience of, and attitudes towards, circumcision,
please see the Prologue to ASSTR 08.
The weekly download logs are currently showing my circumcision stories
scoring more hits than those about spanking, and this Jillie Chopcock story
is often the most visited on the site. I would welcome your views on this.
The story is about a spiteful and vindictive female circumciser. I find it
sexually stimulating to write about her, but please note that her attitude to
circumcision is the opposite of mine.
The early parts of this story can be skipped if required. They give an
analysis of some of the basic facts about circumcision from the point of
view of the (anti?) heroine, a character who is sexually turned on by it, and
who enjoys performing the surgery. The medical facts, however, are
accurate to the best of my knowledge, and I hope that readers find them
enlightening and educational.
Remember that my two main motives in writing this story are:
1. To sexually excite readers, including myself; and
2. To end neonatal and other unnecessary circumcisions, especially in
the USA where they are currently depressingly common.
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When my best friend, Maggie Phillips, asked me to circumcise her
husband as a punishment for his adultery it had a profound effect on my
life. There was I, Miss Jillian Hayes, in my early twenties, a trainee surgeon
who had never before operated on a man's tool. I will never forget that
lunchtime in the pub when Maggie first broached the subject.
I have always been stimulated by piercings (especially of belly buttons
and of female labia), as well as by brandings and tattoos. I also like tribal
scars on the faces of black guys. But male circumcision really turns me on
because the scar is in a much more intimate, embarrassing and amusing
place. On balance, I think, it is safest and best if as many men as possible
get their cocks chopped at birth. Chop while the cock holder is too young to
protest is my rule. An advantage of this is that the cock of a neonate is so
small that it is impossible, under normal surgical conditions, to do a precise
job. It is very easy, for example, even if you are not trying to, to chop off a
lot more than the medical textbooks recommend. This is particularly likely
if, like many circumcisers, you are not trained as a surgeon. Moreover, the
resulting scar, as it grows bigger, tends to become ugly, pitted and
pockmarked. Frequently there are one or more holes in the scar, little
"stitch tunnels" and flaps of skin folded in on themselves, or else hanging
loose, along it. In the stitch tunnels blackheads form, and they have to be
periodically squeezed out, to the pain, annoyance and embarrassment of
the victim. This is very frustrating, since the circumcised man knows that
these holes will soon fill up again, as they have always done in the past,
and that he will then have to make his scar sore again with yet further
squeezing.
But the problem with infant circumcision is that what you have never had
you never miss. Even better, therefore, is it for men to escape the
surgeon's knife as babies and then for it to be inflicted upon them later. My
favourite age for chopping is during the teenage years, in puberty. I like to
wait until the banana is just fully-grown and developed, all plump and
meaty. I like the victim to have tasted the exquisite delights of his foreskin
in masturbation. Then, when he is at the peak of his physical potency,
when he is ripe for intercourse and eyeing up young ladies with lascivious
eyes, I like to take the skin from his banana and expose the fruit's delicate
and sensitive flesh. Given the chance I chop away his foreskin while he is a
16 to 18-year-old virgin, and cut it off from the ultimate pleasure.
There are, however, different preferences here. My friend Maggie, for
example, likes the victim to have had a few shags before he gets chopped.
She prefers him to taste the ultimate pleasure a few times so that he knows
exactly what he is missing. She says this makes the loss even more
infuriatingly poignant for him, and cites the case of her husband, Jim, in
support of her thesis. I must admit that she has a talking point.
Another interesting talking point is whether a man with a small cock
should be circumcised as severely as a man with a big cock. Now this is an
interesting one. My view is yes, just as severely, in fact more so. After all,
the smaller cock already gets an advantage. Less is cut off in any case
purely because there is less there to be cut. That, in my view, is benefit
enough, and no extra bonus should be given. In fact, I go much further
than that; to echo the Bible, from him who has not I take away even that
which he has - and then a bit more. In the part of England that I come from
there is an old expression, “to clown on.” It means, roughly, “to bully
(usually a smaller, weaker, frailer or more vulnerable child) in a slapstick
comedy manner.” Well, I can tell you that when I get a pathetically small
cock under my knife I “clown on” it something rotten. “You were not much
of a man to start with,” I will tell the anaesthetised victim after I have
trimmed him tight, “and now you are scarcely a man at all!”
I have a number of reasons for my enthusiastic support for circumcising
men. For one thing, they are all beasts and they deserve it for what they do
to us. And even if they do not do anything at all, they deserve it for what
they think about us. They deserve it for their insolent fantasies and
impudent imaginings when, in their lewd and filthy minds, they ponder on
us as sex objects and not as human beings. Yes, even if we are married to
them, they should treat us with more respect than that, and they should be
punished if they do not. For that, and that alone, they deserve to have their
cocks chopped, and chopped hard: every teenaged boy who leers at a
teenaged girl in a bikini; every married man who admires a lady who is not
his wife; and every dirty old man who lusts after any lady at all, including his
wife. Off with their foreskins! Cane their cocks! Chop them back hard and
short - _very_ short! Make them pay for their randiness by chopping the
hoods off their hooded pleasure pythons! For one and all my motto is the
same: "Chop 'em tight and serve 'em right."
Oh, yes, you teenaged boy! Oh, yes, you dirty old man! I know you, the
pair of you, what you are! I have seen you both on summer beaches eyeing
up scantily clad ladies with lascivious eyes! I have observed your furrowed
brows and your licked lips as you lustfully and lingeringly cogitate on the
respective merits of a hipster thong and a high-rise bikini! You think that
thought is free, that your filthy fantasies are none of my business. Well, my
youth! Well, my man! If ever I get the chance I will _make_ them my
business, and I will punish you severely for them. Chop! Permanent
mutilation of the cock is what _you_ deserve, and it is what you will take if I
ever get the chance to inflict it!
But even if it was not me who cut you (alas!), if you _are_ cut I still have
hopes to make your cock sore and raw. I want to develop into a good and
effective writer of sexy stories and pornography. My main and biggest
market is the United States of America, where there are almost 300 million
citizens, or 5 times as many people as live in my own homeland, the United
Kingdom. So beware, US ladies! I aim to moisten your vulvas and stiffen
your clitorises! I am trying to stir you up, and I want to incite you, to
stimulate your cunt meat to throbbing, gushing orgasm! As for you,
gentlemen of the USA! My ambition is to titillate you and to excite your
cocks to bone hard erection! Come on, you US male, reading this now! Is it
turning you on? Are you nice and stiff? Then go on! Tug at your cock! Bring
yourself off! Stimulate yourself to orgasm, and I hope that you ejaculate so
hard that you spatter the ceiling with your spunk! But beware! As the Bard’s
Hamlet put it, “there’s the rub”! A large majority of you US males are
circumcised, and every time that you have dirty and lascivious fantasies
during masturbation, every time that you tug at your cocks during your lewd
and filthy imaginings, you make yourselves sore and raw in a very sexy,
very amusing and very intimate place. And the more you tug and the more
excited you get, the more sore and raw you make yourselves. Oh, yes, my
American friends! Not for you the “up and over” of the long, sensitive
foreskin as it slides past the end of the responsive, unkeratinised purple
cock head. For you there is only the “tug, ouch”! O.K. Perhaps I am not yet
that good a writer. But, if I cannot do it, there will be plenty of other
fantasies to make you raw and sore!
As for sexual intercourse, you US males, we ladies are beautiful. Many
US ladies are stunning, and among the most beautiful ladies in the world;
you are very lucky to have such ladies at your disposal, but you do not
deserve to taste, enjoy and luxuriate in them perfectly. There is not one of
you good enough to be granted that exquisite privilege, even though,
unfortunately, some of you are uncircumcised and get it. Your circumcised
cocks have had about 15 square inches of sensitive, nerve-enriched
foreskin hacked off them that would otherwise be pleasurably sliding up
and down your cock shaft during intercourse. Now 15 square inches is a lot
of skin. In surface area it is roughly the same size as a man's palm. I well
remember the fate of Nicholas in Chaucer’s ‘Miller’s Tale.’ He was branded
on the bare bum with a red-hot coulter. “Off flew the skin,” writes the poet,
“a handbreadth about.” Well, that is what happened to your cocks at
circumcision, and your cocks are a lot smaller, a lot less meaty, and a lot
less able to take it than Nicholas’s bum. And at least Nicholas might
reasonably have expected the skin to grow back over his branded arse,
whereas the US victims of circumcision can have no such hopes for their
denuded and exposed cock heads.
Then, after circumcision, the prick tip becomes cornified and desensitised.
The purple coloured glans, beautifully moist and intensely sensitive while
covered and protected by the foreskin, becomes pink, dry, calloused over
and less able to enjoy itself after it has been circumcised. This means that
circumcised men have to work a lot harder if they want to get themselves
excited. Not for them the slow, leisurely, delectably lazy sliding of the
uncircumcised foreskin up and down the lady's cunt. The circumcised man
has to wriggle his bum and flex his haunches with some vigour to get a
hard on for his chopped and desensitised member, thereby giving the cunt
a brisk, vigorous and (for the lady) sharply pleasurable rubbing. But the
extra work that the man has to do, and the fact that the skin is pulled tighter
over his engorged shaft, helps to chafe the circumcised cock and make it
raw and sore. Thus, the circumcised man sweats and strains to work his
desensitised cock towards orgasm. It frustrates him, makes him smart, and
reduces his pleasure. What a hoot!
For the fact is that a circumcised man has less control over his orgasms.
He cannot hover on the brink of ecstasy for hours on end by gently rubbing
his delicate purple glans and his deliciously sensitive inner foreskin up and
down his lady’s love tunnel, and then pausing for protracted periods in
joyful anticipation of future bliss before he explodes. The uncircumcised
man can linger at the gate of Nirvana until his pleasure becomes
unbearably intense and he is forced to enter in violent delight. In contrast,
the circumcised lover has a dick that is keratinised and desensitised; for
most of his life, but especially as he gets older, it is either up or down, stiff
or soft. It is either ready to shoot, or it is not cocked, on the wane, and
subsiding; and, if his cock is primed to shoot, he had better fire it off, or he
will miss his chance and go all floppy again. Oh wow! When I ponder on
exactly what it is that I have done to the men that I have circumcised, on
what I have robbed them of, and on the incomparable ecstasies, pleasures
and delights from which I have so cruelly and abruptly cut them off, I am
aghast and amazed that I am allowed to do it, and that I get away with it
unchecked.
I see circumcision as a simple once and for all way of forcing men to pay
a sex tax, at the point of pleasure, for the rest of their lives. I sometimes
refer to circumcision as “the cock tax” and very taxing it is to the comfort
and equanimity of those upon whom it is inflicted. This cock tax is not a
monetary tax. It is “the most unkindest cut of all” in the words of the Bard. It
is unkind, but it is paid in kind: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and a
foreskin for a fuck. Even better, unlike with the Inland Revenue, evasion
and avoidance are quite impossible. The tax for a shag is a sore and less
pleasured cock, and that tax is strictly and sharply enforced. It is paid to the
full 100 per cent of the time. Better still, it is paid to the full not only when
the victim shags a lady but every time that he has the effrontery to even
think about it in a masturbatory fantasy. Or, if you like, circumcision is like
having a fixed penalty parking ticket slapped onto your windscreen. Whack!
The offender does not like it, but he has to pay the fine. Even better, unlike
with a parking ticket, he pays it for so much as thinking about parking
illegally, and he has to go on paying it time after time! Mother Nature is a
niggard, but in this case she generously provides an intensely sensitive and
pleasurable fold of cock skin for man's pure enjoyment and delight. What
could be a sexier wind-up than to spitefully chop this off? Serves the
bastards right!
Yes, I suppose that I am a bit of a prude really. I have some sympathy
with the puritanical Victorian idea that sex is dirty. Without doubt, the
foreskin and the cock-head that it covers are dirty. Underneath the
encasing sheath of the foreskin, the dirty, smelly white creamy substance,
smegma, builds up. Drops of urine are also harboured there; and the mind
boggles at what the prick-tip acquires during sexual intercourse, such as
dribbles of semen and of smelly ladies’ vagina juice. Disgusting!
Foreskinned sex may be wild, abandoned, ecstatic and enjoyable; but it is
also dirty, filthy and depraved, and we must do our very best to stop it and
to wipe it from the face of the earth! It is true that tightly circumcised sex is
also dirty, but it is still a lot cleaner that the alternative. It is blander and
more hygienic. It has been sanitised, disinfected, and sterilised. The
quantity of filthy enjoyment and depraved pleasure is sharply cut and
reduced, and the victim is a cleaner, purer, more moral, more upstanding
and more virtuous gentleman as a result of it. If, in addition, he is less
interested in sex that is an added bonus. After all, we cannot have him
continually pestering and annoying ladies in his attempts to secure sexual
favours.
Oh, yes! Those Victorians were very shrewd prudes and far from naive on
the subject of sex. They knew precisely how to curb pleasure and how to
increase pain. They wanted to prevent, or at least to reduce, masturbation,
or self-abuse as they called it, and wow, were they effective! They knew
exactly what to cut, where to cut and how to cut, and they left their victims
very denuded and very tight in a certain place. "There,” you can imagine
them saying to themselves as they smugly and complacently laid down
their scalpels. “Take that! That’s trimmed down _your_ pleasure, young
man! That’s curbed _your_ lust for you!” One good Victorian example is
A.E. Housman, the English poet and author of “A Shropshire Lad.” He and
his brother were both circumcised when Housman was 16 years old. I
suspect that the pair of them had been caught masturbating or getting up
to some other form of sexual hanky-panky together (Housman, remember,
was a homosexual), and that in consequence their father summarily
slapped them both down with a painful and effective punishment. I bet he
had them both circumcised very tightly, too, and told the surgeon to teach
them a good lesson by well chopping off their frenulums for them. After all,
if a punitive circumcision is to be effective it has to make a difference and it
has to punish; if you have gone to the trouble of hiring a surgeon, why not
make sure that you get your money's worth out of him? This interpretation
is endorsed by a biography of Housman that I once read; it quoted a letter
written by one of his sisters on the incident. She said that the victims were
loudly bemoaning their fate and feeling very sorry for themselves. In her
opinion their father was correct to get them snipped, but he should have
thought of it when they were younger. I may have been imagining it but I
noted in her words a tone of detached amusement, and I got the distinct
impression that she regarded the incident as saucy, risqué and funny,
particularly since the victims were pubescent boys rather than neonates.
(Incidentally, another shrewd Victorian idea was the development of the
cane as a disciplinary implement in schools. The traditional tool had been
the birch, but this was only effective if applied “on the bare” in a fashion
that was, by the mid-nineteenth century, increasingly considered indecent.
In contrast, the cane could be applied over clothing and still inflict very
considerable pain.)
But I digress. Let me return to the topic of old men. According to the
World Health Organisation (WHO) we are young from when we are born
until our 45th birthday. Then we become middle aged from 45 to 59. Finally,
on our 60th birthday we become old. Now all men have an ample amount of
time for sexual intercourse before they arrive at old age. By the time they
are 60 they should have fathered all of their children. They should also
have satiated their passions for ladies, and be in a state of “calm of mind,
all passion spent.” But are they? No, these days they frequently are not. A
little continuing hanky-panky with their ageing wives is, perhaps, tolerable.
But far too many old men go much, much, further than that; and when they
do no lady is safe. Dirty old bastards into their sixties, seventies and older
frequently regard a middle aged lady as a nubile and desirable wench, and
they will pester and importune her in their attempts to secure sexual
favours. But this, dear reader, has got to be stopped! As I have said, apart
from familiar, relaxed and anodyne shags with his wife every old man of 60
plus must be prevented from entering ladies, especially younger ladies, in
the Biblical sense. Oh yes! We have to stop the filthy old sods from being
so rude and lascivious, and bring them to their pipes and slippers.
This is where circumcision comes in; one of the most beautiful features of
a nice tight cut around the cock is that it carries through into old age. Even
uncircumcised old men find that, as their sexual prowess wanes, it is more
and more difficult to get a hard on and to enter a lady. Tightly circumcised
old men, with no sensitive foreskin, a denuded frenulum, and no delicate,
tender, purple cock head to stimulate them, frequently find that their
attempts at intercourse are sterile, fruitless and barren. Tee hee! They can
no longer trespass against ladies, and they certainly cannot trespass into
them! How frustrating for them! They cannot get it up, and it serves the
filthy old bastards right! The USA has a greater number of circumcised old
men than any other nation ever, in the whole of history. No wonder that it is
the Viagra capital of the world. All that we need to do now is to get Viagra
and other drugs than enhance sexual performance banned on the grounds
that they are unsafe, and we will have stitched up the dirty old perverts
beautifully.
Let me explain to you dear reader, what, in a reference to the oldest god
of Greek mythology, I call "the vengeance of Chronos." Most primitive
societies, such, for example, as used to exist in the Old Testament, were
male gerontocracies. The old men ruled, and they used their wealth, status
and power to secure for themselves young brides and the pleasure of
sleeping with youthful ladies. The same, however, is not true of advanced
modern democracies. In the USA, for example, old men, as they get older,
increasingly lack sexual access to nubile females; and, naturally enough,
they dislike this and harbour a deep resentment, spite and envy towards
young men. In the Old Testament King David and King Solomon, in their
latter years, both had large harems and numerous gorgeous young girls at
their sexual disposal, even when they were too old to take advantage:
Now King David was old and stricken in years; and they covered him with clothes,
but he gat no heat. Wherefore his servants said unto him, Let there be sought for
my lord the king a young virgin: and let her stand before the king, and let her
cherish him, and let her lie in thy bosom, that my lord the king may get heat. So
they sought for a fair damsel throughout all the coasts of Israel, and found Abishag
a Shunammite, and brought her to the king. And the damsel was very fair, and
cherished the king, and ministered to him: but the king knew her not (1 Kings: 1-4).
In contrast the old men of today seldom have such opportunities. For
example, imagine this scenario. A rich, powerful dirty old man watches a
neighbour's daughter as she grows and develops from a little girl, into a
pubescent teenager, and finally into a stunningly beautiful and sexy young
woman; and, men being men, he fantasises over her, and masturbates
wildly. Then, despite all of his wealth, power and influence, he is forced to
look on helplessly as some upstart young stud marries the object of his
lusts and fantasies. Now, what thoughts will go through that dirty old man's
mind on the night of the wedding? He would probably be prepared to
surrender all of his wealth and all of his power to change places with the
young bridegroom. But, unfortunately for him, that is not on the agenda; so,
instead, he aches with envy, frustration and resentment. But hey! What if
the dirty old man is a medic who, twenty years or so ago, inflicted a tight
routine infant circumcision on his rival? As the cock cutter lies frustrated on
his bed during the night of the honeymoon, will he repent of his surgery and
regret that he did it? Will he hell! He will rejoice and triumph that his rival,
for all his youth and potency, is not enjoying his nubile, exquisite and
succulent bride perfectly, and as Mother Nature intended. Okay. It is a
"dog-in-the-manger" type of revenge, but it still must be a very sweet one,
and the old man's winces of exasperation will be accompanied by smiles of
smug satisfaction and wicked glee. Circumcision is a mutilation inflicted
upon the young by their elders; it is partly driven by the surgeons' personal
sexual agendas, and envy and spite are major motives. Imagine, for
example, the thoughts going through the mind of a surgeon during his mid-
life crisis as he wields his knife on the foreskins of neonates; imagine the
same surgeon's thoughts as his victims become sexually active and he
grins lasciviously at their severed foreskins and their lost pleasure.
There is even more to it than that, though. Here are some excerpts from
an hilarious article in the edition of “The Economist” published on 19 June
2008. It is entitled “Cutting the competition: Mutilating male members may
mar men’s mischievous matings.” I would like to replicate it in full but it is
quite long so I have, so to speak, cut it fairly drastically.
(Excerpt starts.)
Circumcision and other forms of male-genital mutilation are commonplace in many
societies around the world. The origin of these practices, however, puzzles
anthropologists and evolutionary biologists. They wonder what benefit they could
bring, especially given the obvious risks of infection and reduced fertility.
Christopher Wilson, a neurobiologist at Cornell University …in a recent paper in
_Evolution and Human Behavior_ … suggests that male-genital mutilations are
actually intended to prevent younger men from fathering children with older men’s
wives.
…There are several ways (circumcision) may affect fertility: most obviously, the
lack of a foreskin could make insertion, ejaculation or both take longer, perhaps
long enough that an illicit quickie will not always reach fruition.
Older men are in a position to form alliances with younger men—passing on
knowledge, lending them political support and giving them access to weapons. By
insisting that the young undergo genital mutilation of some form as a quid pro quo,
an older married man can seek to ensure that even if he is cuckolded, he will still
be the father of his wives’ children. Of course, the older man has probably
undergone genital mutilation too, and seen his own fertility reduced. But that, if
anything, increases his incentive to make certain that the young bucks are similarly
handicapped. And if all the older men in a society conclude this is a good thing, it
will rapidly become a socially enforced norm.
…Most of the Western world has already largely abandoned routine neonatal
circumcision, which is seen as an outdated and unfortunate medical fad.
The exceptions are America, where more than half of newborn boys are still
circumcised, and Africa, where circumcision helps to stop the transmission of HIV,
the AIDS-causing virus. There, infection really is a far greater threat to the number
of children a man might have than the loss of his foreskin.
(Excerpt ends.)
My, my! How interesting! I can see the old men’s point of view. They have
gone to a lot of trouble to secure sexual access to beautiful young females.
Who can blame them for trying to keep insolent young interlopers from
trespassing on their real estate!
But I have written enough of old men. I like my men to be young, not old,
all fresh-faced, beefcake and naked. Indeed, I prefer them totally naked;
and in my view no man is completely nude and exposed unless he has
been tightly circumcised. To put it another way, I am turned on by the loss
of privacy which circumcision brings. Even when an uncircumcised man is
butt naked, you still cannot see the most intimate, sexy and interesting bit
of his cock. It is hidden and encased in a double thick swathe of foreskin.
He still has some mystery, some dignity and some self-respect left. The
glans or cock head, the bit that we ladies are most interested in and that
we most want to see, remains unrevealed. If he wants to overexcite us, of
course, an uncut man can always pull his foreskin back over his purple
cock head. But that choice is his. The circumcised man has no such
discretion. Whether he likes it or not, his pink prick tip is constantly and
embarrassingly displayed to the female gaze. And so different is the
appearance of his cock from that of his uncircumcised fellow that it is
bound to draw forth ribald and hilarious comments.
Oh, yes! Those 15 square inches of missing foreskin make a big visual
difference! Sometimes circumcision is referred to as a "little snip." To the
victim this is most offensive. It is a cheap and unworthy jibe. It unfairly,
unheedingly and insouciantly dismisses something that, for him, is a most
important and serious matter. Such jocular and facetious quips are
completely inaccurate and quite uncalled for. (On the other hand, they are
very amusing, very saucy and very sexy!)
I think that in the UK we are more amused by circumcision than you are in
the US; in your country it is the norm, whereas here it is now quite rare.
This was not always the case, especially for the middle and upper
classes. Historically, surveys in the UK told a consistent story. Public
schoolboys were far more likely to be circumcised than the riffraff. Those
toffs may have had blue blood, but they did not usually have blue cock
heads! They may have canoodled with and married those charming,
classy, sexy middle and upper class ladies; but they rarely enjoyed them
with a full set of wedding tackle! Meanwhile the working classes were, in
most cases, bonking their lower class wives with everything Mother Nature
had given them! Wow! How is that for proletarian justice, for Karl Marx’s
revenge! Wealth and comfort to the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie;
perfect sexual pleasure to the workers! Which destiny, I wonder, would you
choose, dear reader?
In the UK things are now changing; these days there are far fewer
neonatal circumcisions, even for the upper classes. For example, our
leading UK toff and heir to the throne, Prince Charles, was circumcised by
a rabbi as a baby; but the foreskins of his two sons, William and Harry,
were spared, rumour has it because of the intervention of their mother,
Diana, the “People’s Princess” and Prince Charles’s first, and now
deceased, wife.
These days, therefore, a cut man, or at least a young cut man, on this
side of the pond, whatever his social class, stands out from the crowd, and
is liable to face the singling out and ridicule that is often aimed at the
person who is different.
Let me give you an example of this. In North London here in the UK there
are currently two Premiership football (or, as you Americans say, soccer)
clubs. These are Arsenal (the Gunners) and Tottenham Hotspur (Spurs),
and there is great local rivalry between them. Clashes between rival fans
are frequent and sometimes escalate into violence. Tottenham Hotspur
have a reputation as a club with Jewish connections, and accordingly one
of the favourite wind-ups of the Arsenal fans when invading the enemies’
turf for a local derby is to sing in unison: “Here we are with our willies
hanging out. Here we are with our foreskins on the end.” During the song
the Gunners lads will wave their naked cocks around with one hand while
pointing aggressively at their cock ends with the other.
We have a natural inclination to laugh, or, if we are polite, to feel a fierce
secret joy, at the misfortunes of others; and in the UK these days most
people consider circumcision misfortunate. In England, we often feel the
same way about people who get parking tickets. I remember an anecdote
of my granny’s on this one. As a teenager in the 1950s, just after the fixed
penalty parking regulations came into force, she got stung with a ticket, and
in very embarrassing circumstances. She was an Oxford undergraduate,
and she had taken on a temporary office job in central London for the
summer vacation. During her lunch hour she saw, from her second floor
window, a female traffic warden writing out a ticket for her in the street, and
she ran down to remonstrate with her. Well, the warden was a right
vindictive old battle-axe and she clearly enjoyed her work. She gave granny
a long sententious lecture on the need to obey the law, and on how her
punishment was richly deserved. Then she triumphantly handed the ticket
to her and biffed off.
Now when fixed penalty parking tickets were first introduced into the UK
the fine was two pounds (GBP2). That is nothing today, but then it was a
swingeing mulct, especially in those far less prosperous days, and for an
impoverished student like granny. In those days a pint of beer in a pub
cost, in modern money, about 7 or 8 pence as opposed to the 200 to 250
pence that it might cost these days. Granny’s job earned her about 14
modern pence an hour, so her punishment was not like the one-hour
detention of a schoolgirl. She would have to work for nearly 15 hours, or
the best part of two days, to clear that ticket.
Naturally enough, granny told me, she was very upset, and returned to the
office visibly shaken and close to tears. Meanwhile, the young men who
worked with her, delighted that little miss smarty-pants, the clever clogs
student from Oxford, had been caught with her knickers down, opened the
windows, egged on the warden, and laughed and jeered at the distressed
victim. “Go on, missus! Put one on her!” “Take that, swot girl!” and other
raucous exhortations and taunts were shouted down to the street. Granny
left the job a week later because she could not stand the continuing
unchivalrous ridicule. Even her boss, while appearing sympathetic, seemed
quietly amused.
“Damn,” granny said to him. “_Two_ rotten pounds! For _one_ measly
offence!”
“Never mind,” replied her boss archly, with a twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps
they’ll give you the next one for free!” Meanwhile the female staff and office
girls were similarly amused.
It is usually more amusing to the observer if, as in granny’s case, the
victim is stung sharply with a really hefty fine. “Ouch!” the amused observer
will reflect, archly and with a smug, complacent smile. “That’s just _got_ to
hurt!” At one of the hospitals where I am based it is difficult to park and
many of the more lowly staff cannot get a parking bay and have to leave
their cars in the surrounding roads. Well, a few weeks ago one of our
student nurses had her car towed away by the authorities and had to pay a
swingeing fine of GBP250 (about USD450) to get it back. Some of us were
sympathetic, but others were amused. When the young, nubile, sexy victim
complained ruefully that this was her very first offence one of the more
scatological of my male colleagues joked: “Well you may have been a
parking ticket virgin yesterday, but today you’ve been well deflowered and
shafted.” Further hilarity was caused a few days later when the same victim
suffered a “double whammy” and got a second ticket. This time, however,
the sting was GBP190 (about USD342) less amusing at only GBP60
(USD108) if paid promptly.
If a number of people are all simultaneously stung with a fine the
amusement of the onlookers is increased. A few months ago our nurses
had a dance at their social club, and more than 50 of them returned to their
cars to find GBP60 parking tickets slapped onto their windscreens. Well
some of the victims felt very sorry for themselves; but many of their
colleagues who had not been stung thought it was hilarious and ribbed
them mercilessly.
Granny tells me of something else, in her day, that was considered
amusing to nearly everyone except the victim: disciplinary slipperings in
schools. At the all girls Catholic grammar school that granny attended in
the 1940s and 50s, when she was aged 11 to 19, such slipperings were
numerous; the cane was seldom used, but a gym pump was routinely
applied to the rumps of naughty schoolgirls, and, granny says, it used to
sting like hell. It was inflicted at the end of PT (Physical Training) lessons
across thin, tightly stretched gym knickers. The slaps (between four and
twelve) came very sharp, and re-echoed around the rafters. The Dean of
Discipline who dished them out was a kinky old lesbian nun. With that large
floppy plimsoll in her hand she was a fiend, and she punished all schoolgirl
peccadilloes with joyful ferocity. Granny herself took it regularly,
culminating, just before her nineteenth birthday, in 12 stinging, bum-sizzling
belters for smoking in the lavatories.
All the girls, granny tells me, used to hate taking these spankings. But
nearly everyone, including her, thought it was sexy and funny when
_someone else_ was on the receiving end; and the harder the victim was
spanked, the funnier it was, especially if she was a well-developed, meaty,
nubile sixth-former. What made it all even funnier was that the
disciplinarian nun, Sister Paula, used to spank the older and bigger girls a
lot harder and more often than the 11-year-old first formers. The latter took
a standard 4 slaps that were firm but not vicious, whereas every victim of
16+ took 12 really hard ones every time. News of the spanking of girls in
the upper forms was rapidly disseminated throughout the school, and the
victims were mercilessly teased. Their red rumps would be pointed at and
giggled over by their classmates in the communal showers; they would be
offered cushions to sit on for weeks afterwards, and so on. Most
embarrassingly for the victims, the younger girls discussed the spankings
inflicted upon their seniors with gleeful interest and delight even if, fearful of
the disciplinary reprisals, they seldom openly teased the prefects.
Many times, says granny, she witnessed a spanked 18-year-old ruefully
reproach her fellow sixth-formers for ribbing her, even though she herself
regularly mocked them when they suffered the same fate. “It isn’t funny!”
she would blurt out hotly as she rubbed her hot, red, tingling bottom. “Oh
yes, it is!” was the inevitable reply from her classmates, and they
maintained that position until the roles were reversed and it was them on
the receiving end.
Again, if a lot of big girls were all spanked together it was even funnier
than if only one of them took it. Granny reports that once a friend of hers
pulled off a superb practical joke when she succeeded in getting 30 gross
(30 x 144 = 4,320) of condoms, addressed to the headmistress, delivered
to the school from a mail order firm. There was an attempt to hush the
incident up by the school authorities, but, of course, the culprit leaked
reports, and accurate details of the incident were soon circulating all
around the school and causing great merriment. The origin of these reports
was traced to the Upper Sixth, and granny and her classmates were asked
to reveal who had done it. If apprehended, says granny, the offender would
inevitably have been caned and, in addition, almost certainly expelled.
Well, respectable middle class young ladies they might have been, but,
true to the criminal culture of the East End of London, granny and her
colleagues steadfastly refused to “grass up” their friend, and, as a result, all
127 of them, among whom were many prefects, were slippered; they all
received 12 stinging, butt-scorching spanks as hard as Sister Paula could
lay them on, much to the amusement and delight of the lower forms.
Granny says that she has often pondered on the psychology and the
morality of all this. After all, this strict Catholic school put the emphasis
firmly on the Christian virtues such as loving thy neighbour as thyself. Yet,
despite a sound religious formation, even nice middle class young ladies
from this posh grammar school, like everyone else, were tainted with
original sin. They did not love their neighbour as themselves; they laughed
and rejoiced at their neighbour’s misfortunes, and they thought it was sexy
and funny when their neighbour took something that they hated and
resented when they took it themselves.
Well! Repent young ladies now grown old! Think what price the Lord may
exact for your atonement on the Day of Judgement when he resurrects you
in your prime as young women again and you stand as sinners before him!
Did not God, in his infinite wisdom and mercy, provide young ladies with a
perfectly proportioned section of their anatomy, and did he not design it
excellently as a target for the reception of retributive justice? When the
moon turns to blood all of those little minxes who teased each other about
their spankings may just get their comeuppance, and be made to sting and
tingle again for their sins. The prophet Isaiah with a plimsoll in his hand
would be the perfect avenger, fatherly and fair, but firm and just, as he was
in the olden days when he thundered against the evils of Judah.
Which brings me, after lengthy discursions off-topic, to my point: many
people in the UK who are not victims of circumcision are amused by people
who are, just as they are amused when _someone else_ gets a parking
ticket, or takes a spanking; and if the circumcision is tight and/or messy, or
if, as in the USA, it is inflicted upon numerous victims, it is all the funnier.
Thus in the UK the circumcised, like the victims of parking fines and
spankings, often try to cover up what has been done to them and to hide it
from view. Secrecy is their defence against being teased and laughed at;
but, of course, if it becomes known that they have been devious and
evasive, their exposure is likely to be all the more humiliating, and their
discomfiture all the more delicious to their tormentors.
My dear reader, do you know what _penis envy_ is? Well, here is the
definition from
http://www.psybox.com/web_dictionary/Penisenvy.htm
Penis envy – An aspect of Sigmund Freud’s developmental theory.
Freud believed that during development girls had to switch from
having the mother as the love object to having the father as the
love object: and also switch from the clitoris to the vagina as the
main genital zone. At about the age of four, Freud believed that
girls first discovered they lacked a penis. The girl will blame her
mother for the lack of a penis and the consequent hurt to her own
self-esteem. This causes the girl to give up clitoral sexuality, and
turn to the father as love object. This aspect of Freud’s theory has
received a great deal of criticism, particularly from feminist
psychoanalysts.
Yes, well, I see the feminists’ point. Not “Freud” but “Fraud” is how I would
describe the famous Viennese psychoanalyst. I myself think that penis
envy is a useful concept, but that it is a lot simpler than Freud claimed it
was. At a young age a little girl sees a little boy naked; and he has got a
dick and she has not. This makes her envious. Then, as she grows up, she
finds that boys are full of testosterone and “side.” They are not girly,
sensitive, interactive, and into relationships; they are action oriented,
arrogant, full of themselves and, well, cocky. And the young girl ascribes
these unpleasing, unfeminine character traits to the fact that the young
man has got a cock. So if she then finds out that this same young man has
been circumcised she is amused, and delights in the fact that his cock, if
not his ego, has been “cut to size.” [At least, that is my impression of how it
is in the United Kingdom; in the USA there are so many men who have
taken the chop that the girls may well think that it is normal.]
In my experience, one of the best times for a lady to observe and
scrutinise a man’s dick is during fellatio. I remember talking to my girlfriend
at Medical School, Jennifer, about this one. In the UK it is now unusual for
a man to be circumcised; Jennifer's boyfriend, however, has taken the
chop, and she describes to me her feelings about it. In the UK these days
circumcision is, as I say, seldom discussed; when it is it usually amuses
everyone except the victim. Jennifer is certainly amused by what has been
done to her boyfriend, Simon, and by his resentment and dislike of it.
Smiling archly, she tells me that it saves her the trouble of “unzipping her
banana.” Her lover, she adds, likes it when she fellates him; and she
herself does not mind, since circumcision helps to keep his cock nice and
clean for her invading lips and tongue. “There is no need to unpack my
lunch,” she adds slyly. “The meat is _prêt a manger_,” or ready to eat, with
no necessity to roll a bulky foreskin back down the cock shaft.
The embarrassment of circumcision continues into a man’s marriage,
and, even more so, when he acquires children. In the latter case he has
two choices. Firstly, he can have his sons circumcised. This is fine by me
since I always rejoice when a foreskin bites the dust. The father's fear of
appearing different is, as I note above, a massive reason for the
continuation of routine infant cock chopping in the USA, and a very good
thing this is too! Secondly, the man can spare his sons' foreskins, as
usually happens, on medical advice, in the UK. But he then has to face
embarrassing family questions about his operation, not only from his sons
but also, and even more embarrassingly, from his wife and daughters.
So there you have it, dear reader. If, like Elvis Presley, you are a US
male, but if, unlike him, you have taken the knife, you are probably in
embarrassed denial of the truth. Circumcision is no “little snip”; it is a
"massive chop." It is not only me, but also many other circumcisers, who do
not snip off only the foreskin (the skin covering the glans or cock head and
lying in front of it). We also take a thick strip of what you might call "back
skin," or shaft skin that lies behind the cock head and up the shaft, together
with all, or almost all, of the frenulum, the delectably sensitive triangular
patch of stringy, twangy skin that is joined to the glans on the underside of
the cock shaft. Indeed, like many other circumcisers, I always try to do as
thorough and comprehensive a job as possible by chopping off the whole
of the frenulum, so that not even a vestige is left! I like to make absolutely
sure that the skin on the erect shaft is pulled as tight as a drum skin, even
before orgasm.
Then, when the victim fires away, the skin is pulled tighter still. Not many
people know this, but during ejaculation the scrotum significantly (and for
the circumcised man painfully) reduces the amount of skin covering the
base of the penile shaft. This is because, during the sex act, the scrotum
and the Dartos muscle located in the scrotum contract strongly, thus
causing the shaft skin and (if there is one) the foreskin to contract with
them. For the uncircumcised punter this process merely takes up much of
the slack in penile skin resulting from retraction of the foreskin onto the
shaft of the penis; as nature intended it to, it gives him a much better
bonk. But for the tightly circumcised shagger the effect is much more
amusing. His denuded, foreskin-free cock skin, already pulled as tight as
a drum skin when he first got overexcited, is tugged even tighter down his
shaft by the strong muscular contraction of his bollock bag and of its
attendant muscle. Thus, as he fires off, his already reduced sexual
pleasure is accompanied by a sharp, tugging pain as the denuded
housing of his cock struggles to cope with the extra strain that is inflicted
upon it. If he is lucky he may be too excited to take very much notice of
the pain and discomfort at the time of ejaculation. But you can bet your
boots that his cock skin will feel pretty sore and tender immediately
afterwards.
And, of course, that is just half of the story. As well as what it is taking,
the question is also about what the circumcised cock is not taking, and it
is not taking anything like the amount or the intensity of sexual pleasure
provided by Mother Nature. The latest research on foreskins highlights
the crucial importance of the so-called ridged band, a deliciously sensitive
flap of wrinkled skin that lies just behind the frenulum. If this is cut off, the
research indicates, the cock enjoys a considerably less pleasurable and
ecstatic sexual experience. Well since I learned of the existence of the
ridged band I have always been most careful to excise it completely, at
each and every circumcision that I perform. Oh, yes! I am Jillie (Nemesis of
the Willie) Chopcock, the Circumciser From Hell! To paraphrase Damon
Runyon, I never (and I mean never!) give a fucker an even break! Wow! I
can tell you, buddy, this gal don’t cut you no slack! Or rather, I do. I cut all
the slack there is and leave you very tight! Just once is all that it takes! I
promise you, that if ever I get your cock under my knife, I will make you
pay. Oh yes! I will give you something to feel cut up about! I will make you
very, very sorry for yourself!
But I digress. In fact, the ridged band is dead meat, and routinely cut off,
in the vast majority of circumcisions anyway. Wow! What a pity that most
circumcised men have no idea what exactly is happening down there, or
exactly what it is that they are missing! If they knew they would be even
more incensed and inflamed than they already are. They would be both
sorry for themselves and hopping mad; at the same time they would be
wallowing in self pity and boiling with fury against those who cut them.
Another thing that I find a sexy turn on about circumcised men is the
growing evidence that their mutilation causes them to practise kinkier sex.
Here is a CNN report, dated April 1, 1997:
Circumcision offers little advantage where health is concerned, but
men who are circumcised tend to have more varied sex, a study
published on Tuesday said. The study, by University of Chicago
researchers and published in this week's Journal of the American
Medical Association, found "significant differences between
circumcised and uncircumcised men in terms of their sexual
practices." "We were quite surprised to see such clear evidence, at
least within the white population, that masturbation was correlated
with being circumcised as well as engaging in oral sex and anal
sex," University of Chicago researcher Edward Laumann said.
The study said 47 percent of circumcised men reported
masturbating at least once a month versus 34 percent for their
uncircumcised peers... Circumcised men were found to be nearly
1.4 times more likely to engage in heterosexual oral sex than
uncircumcised men, the study reported. They also were more likely
to have had homosexual oral sex and heterosexual anal
intercourse. The study was based on an analysis of data collected
from a sample of 1,410 men, aged 18 to 59, in the United States,
which has one of the world's highest non-religious circumcision
rates...
The new report offers no firm guidance for parents to reach a
decision on the question of whether or not to circumcise their sons.
Alex Enakifo and his wife Russa-Marie Oni decided to circumcise
their boy, despite her objections. The prevailing factor: "It's a family
tradition that we all get circumcised," Enakifo said. That's usually
how it works, obstetrician Stephen Blank says. "In most families,
the father or ... male children in the family have already been
circumcised, so they don't want to appear as the outcasts or
different from those other members of the family" ...
Circumcision rates reached 80 percent in the United States after
the World War II but peaked in the mid-1960s and have since
fallen off amid debate over whether the practice has health value or
adversely affects male satisfaction, the study said. "The
considerable impact of circumcision status on sexual practice
represents a new finding that should further enrich such
discussion," the researchers wrote. "Our results support the view
that physicians and parents be informed of the potential benefits
and risks before circumcising newborns."
Oh my! Oh yes! That certainly does “enrich ...discussion”! And it strongly
endorses my views about circumcision. A man with a foreskin enjoys
perfect sex. The greatest and most intense pleasure that this world has to
offer is his for the taking. It is all too easy for him. When he enters a lady he
is completely fulfilled, and asks for no more than to be allowed to repeat
the experience again and again. Why should he be a sexual pervert? Why
should he want anal sex and cunnilingus with his lady? (On the downside,
however, his enjoyment of the ultimate pleasure makes him infuriatingly
complacent. Grrr! How I would just love to take the foreskin of every
uncircumcised stud in the world and cut it off! Given half a chance I would
soon wipe the smug, self-satisfied smiles from off their faces. How I would
love to rattle their cages of contentment, and make them wince, fume and
curse!)
In contrast, the sex act leaves the circumcised shagger frustrated and
unrequited. He feels the need to do something more to get satisfaction. So
he puts his head between his lady’s thighs and pushes his tongue into her
hairy, dirty cunt hole while she licks, sucks and bites around the annular
scar of his circumcised cock. Then, to pleasure his desensitised dick,
disappointed by its experience in the vagina, he violently shoves it up his
lady’s dirt box! Beautiful! And I bet you a pound to a pinch of poo that it
does not stop there. I bet you that circumcised men are far more likely to
be into sadomasochistic practices like spanking and caning, rape, and
other sexual perversions. Oh yes! Those of us with a kinky disposition, who
like a bit of rough play and violence in our sex, should be very grateful that
so many men are circumcised. Who wants a gentle, sensitive lover who
bonks his lady with consideration and is happy with what he gets? Such
easy ecstasy is bound to make him lazy. He needs to be made to sweat,
strain, grunt and suffer, and, for example, to give and take the odd cut from
a cane across the bare arse, and so on! Let the sex research continue! We
must get to the bottom of all this! And may the public debate be long,
passionate, intense and furious!
The other point made by the researchers, of course, is the one that I have
myself made already. Cut men like their sons to be circumcised as they
have been. They do not want to look different, or to be personally
embarrassed by their humbling little snip; and the infants take the chop for
this utterly trivial reason. So when once one cock is cut, others take the
knife too, again and again, down the generations. And thus the discomfort
and sexual frustration during intercourse, the buggery, the cunnilingus, the
sadomasochistic spanking and caning, and the sexual perversion, goes on,
and on, and on. Oh, wow! That is just beautiful!
By the way, to digress yet again, do you know what a Gomco Clamp is?
It is a device that is used by some US doctors as an aid to surgery at
neonatal circumcisions. It looks to be very fearsome, and for this reason
features large on anti-circumcision sites on the Internet. It certainly has its
charms. For example, it stamps onto the cock a gorgeous, thick, clear
brown ring or halo. This has been described as the “brown ring of justice.”
It is a mark of civilisation and domestication. It tames the primeval lust of
the cock perfectly, and subjects it to control and curtailment; and it
civilises and domesticates the cock owner by shrewdly chopping off some
of his more intimate macho bits. Take a look at some of the circumcised
cocks freely displayed on the Internet, ladies, and you will soon see what
I mean. This prominent brown scar indicates a “circumcision by crushing,”
in which a Gomco Clamp, or similar, is used like a tight metal vice, to
press together the inner and outer skin of the prepuce, with considerable
force, for a period of time. This closes off the arteries and veins, reduces
bleeding when the foreskin is chopped off, and removes the necessity for
stitches or sutures around the scar. The good news, however, is that a
Gomco circumcision stencils onto the cock this thick, prominent, highly
visible brown ring, and thus makes it absolutely clear to everyone that the
owner of the scarred dick has taken the chop.
Once, on the UK’s Sky Travel TV station, I saw a programme about nude
beaches. One scene depicted a naked seaside wedding on Hawaii. Wow!
The small, meaty, voluptuous, white-skinned bride was gorgeous. The
groom was a tall man, and he towered above his diminutive partner; but,
small as she was, the blushing bride had a curvaceous, pulchritude packed
physique guaranteed to stiffen the cock of any healthy male. The groom
himself was clearly anticipating the delights of the marriage bed, and the
pleasures of his wedding night. He was dangerously over-excited,
protruding at “half cock,” sticking out at about 45 degrees to his balls, and
explicitly showing off his beautiful thick brown scar. The cameraman
captured the scar, and the rest of the cock, to perfection; there was some
exquisite, minutely detailed footage, and I got an excellent eyeful of beat
up, battered, mutilated dick.
Meanwhile, the bride gave a winning smile, and blushed delightfully; she
was understandably embarrassed and flustered that her naked charms
were broadcast to the whole world on network TV. “How did I let myself get
talked into this?” she seemed to be thinking. Well it sure worked for me!
“Wow, lady!” I thought. “You are stunning!”
Then I returned my attention to her over-excited partner, and to his
tumescent manhood. “Yes, mate!” I thought to myself with grim satisfaction.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? And I bet you’ll enjoy it even more when
you get this little stunner into bed with you! As you both stand there, your
cock is hovering well over her cunt; but when you lay her flat for a spot of
horizontal jogging her love tunnel will be much more assailable! That’s a
big, thick cock that you’ve got there, and I bet it will be a deliciously tight fit
up your wife’s little pussy! But don’t get too triumphalist! That’s a really
drastic, taut, comprehensive cut you’ve taken, and there will be a sizeable
and significant piece of you that won’t be going to the party, including, by
the look of it, your entire frenulum! Think of a purple, unkeratinised glans!
Think of the sybaritic delights of a wrinkled ridged band! Think of a foreskin
packed with tens of thousands of nerves and pleasure receptors! Think of
an intact, exquisitely sensitive triangular frenulum harnessed to the dimpled
ridge on the underside of your cock head. Think of the cock, think of the
wedding night, that you might have had, and weep!” And I grinned, slyly
and lasciviously, with a fierce, spiteful joy. “Chop!” I thought, “Gotcha! Take
that, you randy, horny, lascivious bastard!”
Yes, that was a sexy little scene on Hawaii, and the memory of it continues
to moisten and stir my vulva. I was recently also stimulated by another big,
beefy US stud on a television programme entitled "The Perfect Penis." The
lad, very unwisely, had opted for some expensive, drastic and invasive
surgery on his cock to make it a little bit larger. The viewer was given the
privilege of witnessing the surgeon's pre-operation inspection, and wow,
but that young man had a big tool! The most noticeable thing about it to
me, however, was not its impressive size, but the thick brown ring that had
been stamped on it by the Gomco clamp during a particularly drastic
neonatal circumcision that had, yet again, excavated the whole of the
frenulum. Ouch! The victim was sublimely unaware of the savage
mutilation that had been inflicted on him, and the programme made no
mention of it; but, like a deflowered virgin, our stud will never get back what
he lost that day, no matter how many other painful and embarrassing
operations he endures. Teehee! Take that one big boy! Wallop! That's cut
you down to size and how!
However, having said that, the Gomco clamp is still not for me. One
disadvantage is that it makes a neat and accurate cut. Sometimes, it is
true, as in the cases of our over-excited bridegroom and of our well tooled
US stud, that a Gomco circumcision excises the entire foreskin, including
every square millimetre of frenulum. But all too often there is a little cuff of
spare foreskin, and a small patch of frenulum, that survives. It is not much,
but it is more than enough to irritate the dedicated cock chopper. I was
therefore gratified to read an article against circumcision clamps in the
medical press. It was entitled, “Circumcision clamps may cause injury,
FDA warns,” and the Urology Times published it from Cleveland in October
2000. Here is the report:
Doctors should carefully examine two popular surgical clamps used for
circumcising newborns, the FDA warned after receiving reports that worn-out or
misassembled clamps have injured more than 105 infants since 1996. The use of
Gomcor- and Mogenr-type clamps that have been reassembled with parts from
different manufacturers has led to clamps breaking, slipping, falling off during use,
tearing tissue, or failing to make a tight seal. The agency recommends that
concerned physicians either contact the device manufacturer to obtain correct
replacement parts or discard the device completely.
Good. That settles that then. Throw those clamps away. Because there is
only one way to cut a cock to perfection. You must cut it quick, tight and
messy, in a carefree, cavalier, insouciant and arbitrary fashion that
indicates that you do not care a fig about the victim, his cock, or his sexual
pleasure. And you must cut it dictatorially, with meanness and spite. And
the only way to do that to perfection is with the beautiful, sharp, bare-naked
knife. Believe me, if you wield it right, it can make a big, big difference!
A recent variant on the Gomco clamp, which I would never use myself for
the same reasons, is the so-called "AccuCirc Single-Action Circumcision
Device." But although this is not for me it is worth checking out at
http://www.accucirc.com/
The videos are particularly enlightening.
It would, I think, be possible, by pulling a lot of skin up and past the
cutting blade, to inflict a suitably savage circumcision with this device. As
with a drastic Gomco circumcision, the frenulum could be cut off to leave
that wicked little V-shaped scar and skin patch on the underside of the
cock, the tip of which stretches almost to the dimpled ridge of the glans,
where sensitive nerve enriched tissue has been replaced by insensitive
outer shaft skin from lower down the cock.
But the opportunity for innovative and creative chopping is absent, and
this is a fatal flaw for those of us who like to express ourselves and have
a bit of fun with our scalpels.
In addition the kit is advertised as "completely disposable." What! Buy a
new one for every chop! Sod that! What an unnecessary expense! The
basic, bare naked knife, with all its sloppiness and lack of precision, is
good enough for me. It may be messier and deliver less pleasing
aesthetic results, but I have got far better things to do with my time and
money than to worry about mere cosmetic considerations.
One of the joys of a hand cut cock is the unique nature of the mutilation.
No two cocks chopped freehand style are exactly alike. No two hand cut
men in the history of the world will have had identical cuts, and nor will
they ever do so in the future. Each individual chopping is an original one-
off. The scar, the stitch tunnels, the skin tags and the rest of the
mutilation are specific to that particular cock. See, for example, how, with
one particular cock, the shaft skin and the median rafe has been twisted
anticlockwise by about thirty degrees, whereas, with another cock, it has
been turned clockwise by at least forty-five degrees. Then look how, in
this case, a lot more has been lopped off the right hand side of the cock
than the left, whereas, for this other victim, it is the other way round. And
so it goes on, in its fascinating and infinite variety. Instead of passport
photographs of the face, the authorities could just as well demand
pictures of the cocks of all circumcised guys since the identification would
be just as accurate; indeed, in the case of identical twins it would be
much more so!
If you cut the cock of a neonate really tightly, you may be lucky enough
to create the hilarious "turkey neck" effect in adulthood. This is where a
dewlap of skin from the scrotum is tugged halfway or more down the
penis shaft; the effect, especially when the cock is erect, is most
amusing. A cock mutilated in this way is so ugly and unsightly, and looks
so ridiculous, that some people think that it is deformed. Well, I suppose
that it is, really, but the deformation is not a natural one; it is the effect of
the circumciser's knife. It occurs when, to cut off enough skin for a really
tight circumcision, the surgeon pulls the shaft skin forwards, and, in doing
so, tugs the scrotal sack forwards too, so that the balls are in effect
hanging from half-mast, with a stretch of skin from the underside of the
shaft to the scrotum. Oh, wow! That is just wicked! What a turn on for
perverts like me! It seems amazing that, for example, a vindictive female
circumciser such as myself should have it in her power to do something
that mean and spiteful to her victim purely on a personal whim. And be
warned by me, gentlemen of the USA. When it comes to inflicting tight
circumcisions we ladies are worse offenders than you men. The USA has
been rightly categorised as a matriarchal society, and many of those
kinky US ladies see circumcision as a very effective way of keeping men
in their place. So beware of female obstetricians (of whom there are now
quite a number) who are wielding knives! And beware of another type of
foreskin chopping lady: the female mohel or "mohelet" among reformed
Jews. I note with interest that at least one of the latter is so eager for the
work that she advertises her services on the internet.
The dictatorial, arbitrary, undemocratic aspect of circumcision I find a
kinky hoot. On this I agree with a correspondent to an anti-circumcision
forum who recently posted the following opinion:
The most inalienable and sacred right of man is certainly not the right of property upon
things acknowledged by the authors of the declaration of the rights of man of 1789.
These middle class persons were greedy for appropriating the goods seized from the
people by the nobility, through the extermination of the latter. By this very fact, they were
unable to word the very first right of man: the right to the property of the body, which of
course forbids collective crime: the death penalty, ritual mutilation, and very particularly
sexual mutilation that assaults life in the best and most intimate pleasures.
Wow! “Sexual mutilation that assaults life in the best and most intimate
pleasures”! Oh yes! How true! I like that! Eat your heart out Tom Paine! Eat
your heart out John Stuart Mill! Because where the male member is
concerned I do not give a fig for the Rights of Man. And neither, it seems,
do US legislators in the Land of the Free. For the USA, the world’s greatest
democracy, is where the practice of enforced non-consensual routine infant
circumcision is most widespread. Now at governmental level the USA is
heavily into transparency and accountability, and its citizens go to great
lengths to build these qualities into their institutions and processes. In
sharp contrast, they allow their medics to take whatever liberties they like
with the foreskins of their male population. Mutilation is widespread, casual,
unregulated, uncontrolled, and practised in complete or semi-secrecy.
There is no transparency, and no democratic accountability for the
surgeons. It is not even known with any accuracy how many US males are
cut; and the victims usually have no effective legal redress against the
wrongs inflicted upon them.
Thus, amazingly, US surgeons do exactly as they like. They perform
circumcisions in whatever way they see fit, and have more or less complete
discretion over which skin, and how much skin, they cut off; they thus
constitute a sizeable constituency of arbitrary, dictatorial, non-accountable
power-wielders. To make it worse, for much of the time the surgeons who
chop are not even the ones who deal with any post-operative problems.
There is a fat fee to be gained from every circumcision performed, and the
first surgeon to get a claim on this is usually the obstetrician. Now the
obstetrician specialises not in babies and foreskins but in ladies’ rude bits
and in their baby-making equipment. Yet it is the obstetricians who seize
the chance of easy extra income; in short, they “chop and go.” They pocket
the cash, and leave the paediatricians to pick up any debris. It might be my
imagination, but I do not think that the paediatricians are happy to be
deprived of the chopping fees, or to be lumbered with the work of sorting
out problems caused by their slash-happy colleagues. I sense a certain
pique in the sceptical statements concerning circumcision issued by
paediatric bodies; in contrast, the obstetricians are much more reticent on
the subject as with silent glee they bank the easy cash.
I remember reading the details once of a family with 5 sons. One had not
been circumcised at all, and the other four had all been cut by four different
surgeons in radically different ways; for example, one victim had received a
fairly light trimming so that his frenulum was more or less intact whereas
another had been viciously and very messily chopped back to his scrotum.
So wake up, Uncle Sam, and protect your nephews; or, on second
thoughts, do not, or sexual perverts like me (and, I suspect, a sizeable
number of surgeons) will have to look elsewhere for our kicks. Certainly,
some very interesting and high-powered political debates could be
organised around the theme “Is neonatal circumcision compatible with
liberal democracy?” But, hey, on the other hand, on this one, sensible,
reasoned, transparent and accountable democracy is far more boring than
the exercise of outrageous, secretive, arbitrary power!
Anyway, slack circumcision or tight circumcision, after the cock has been
chopped there is always an ugly penile scar perfectly positioned for
meticulous feminine observation and saucy sniggering. And as for that big,
bare glans or cock head, well! Instead of the rich purple-coloured helmet of
the uncut man, the circumcised prick tip callouses over into a thick rubbery
bell end. This exposed glans loses much of its sensitivity, and the skin on it
is only slightly pinker than the skin on the rest of the body. Wow! What a
giggle for the amused female observer!
I find America, therefore, an intensely sexy country. Some of the most
beautiful women in the world live there, ladies who are big, well developed
and lusty. Just think of some of those sexy, delectable US-based lady film
stars. It also has some very handsome hunks of men. But do these men
fully enjoy their womenfolk as nature intended? Do they hell! Virtually all of
those big beefy studs have been routinely circumcised at birth. I was
stunned to read the figures on this in the report by Masters and Johnson.
They had a few foreskins on their volunteers, but always on the older men
who had not been born in a hospital. As I recall, just about every single one
of the younger men had a chopped chopper.
In this respect it is enlightening to contrast the USA with another great
democracy, France, where circumcision is rare. Relations between these
two countries are currently prickly, partly as a result of policy differences in
the Middle East. Furthermore, these current spats are part of a long
tradition of tension as, for example, when the French Republic withdrew
from NATO and developed its own independent “force de frappe” or
(nuclear) “strike force.” Now historians and current affairs experts have
extensively analysed the bickering between the two great democracies; in
contrast, I will give you my much simpler explanation. The French seem to
the Americans to be so stroppy, supercilious, arrogant, smug and
complacent because, well because they are! Every informed Frenchman
knows that he has a little bit between his legs that most Americans lack.
This is why he is so self-confident and “cocky”; it is also, incidentally, one
reason why Frenchmen are convinced that they are great lovers. Oh dear! I
would just love to exact revenge for Uncle Sam by cutting our Gallic friends
to size, but that, I fear, is not on the cards!
I love leering at circumcised cocks in "Playgirl" and similar American
magazines. The studs pose around looking macho and very proud of
themselves. But when you gaze at their cocks you almost invariably find,
protruding from their hairy crotches, a beat up shaft with a naked glans at
the end of it, and an ugly, pock marked and pitted scar all around it. Wow!
Take that big boy! Wallop! What a sexy way to cut men to size! What a
ridiculous and amusing little operation! Except I don't suppose that they see
the joke!
By the way, are you, dear reader, a follower of the Arts? One currently
fashionable cultural and intellectual movement that I find particularly
apposite to circumcision is Minimalism. After all, men do not really _need_
a foreskin, and they do not _need_ a frenulum. They are superfluous
appendages, unnecessary luxuries, and their cocks can function perfectly
well, if considerably less pleasurably, without them. Thus, when I am
performing a circumcision I always strive to do away with as much of this
surplus fold of skin, and its attached frenulum, as possible. I aim for a
minimalist cock. This is a cock that has been circumcised up to and
including the last possible scrap and sliver of foreskin, shaft skin and
frenulum. It is a cock that has been stripped to its absolute bare essentials,
and that is kept on the tightest of tight reins. It is essential for the
continuation of the human race that men fuck women. And we women
enjoy it! But men do not need to enjoy it overmuch while they are
pleasuring us. No. That is superfluous to requirements, and we do not want
to spoil them. They must get enough pleasure to keep them interested, and
to keep them bonking. They should also not experience so much pain and
discomfort that it makes them stop. But that is it. Anything more than that
should be strictly denied them. Men should get the minimum possible
amount of pleasure out of a shag, and they should pay for this with the
greatest possible amount of simultaneous pain and discomfort. At the end
of a screw they should be grinning with pleasure, and wincing in pain and
discomfort, in more or less equal measure. So I always do my best to
deliver minimal cock skin, minimal pleasure, and never to give my victims
as much as an extra millimetre of surplus skin.
There is another good reason to aim for a minimalist cock. Recently I
downloaded from the Internet, a Windows audio/video file posted by
"Doctors Opposed to Circumcision." It is entitled "The Prepuce" and it
describes in long and boring detail the anatomy of the foreskin. On and
on it goes, itemizing with scholarly precision all of the various features
and functions of the foreskin, such as its sensitive nerves and pleasure
receptors and the important role that these play in male sexual ecstasy.
But hang on a minute! We cannot have this! Just think of having to learn
all of that stuff in anatomy classes at medical school! Sod that! It is far
better to cut our medical students some slack by chopping off all
foreskins nice and tight! Why make the human body any more
complicated than absolutely necessary? Chop! Chop! Chop! There you
go! Keep it simple! Shorten textbooks on anatomy and save trainee
doctors and surgeons several hours of hard, laborious study!
An added bonus of circumcision is that it can help to make us ladies more
beautiful! No, I kid you not. Consider this UK internet post from 2008:
_Is Baby Penis Skin the New Botox?_
Unless you have young sons, you might not be aware that circumcision is on a
downward trend, and that the anti-circumcision lobby is gaining ground. Not your
problem? Well, it turns out that this issue is suddenly of relevance to everyone:
Foreskins are the latest tool in the fight against aging, and we're going to need a
constant fresh supply!
Developed by a biomedical company, "Vavelta" is a clear liquid, made from
millions of microscopic new skin cells cultured from babies' foreskins, which is
then injected into the skin to treat wrinkles, sun damage, and scars. The clinical
trials, which took place in London using "material" from a US hospital, have just
been completed and reportedly show the technique to be "astonishingly
effective." So there's a minor "ick" factor. But what's that compared to injecting
your face with deadly poison or cow skin, or indeed to (gulp) actually aging?
Well that seems crystal clear then! What is the sexual pleasure of men
when compared to the beauty and convenience of ladies? Like a candle to
the sun, surely? But hey! It’s not all bad news for the guys. They may not
feel very much as they fuck those ladies with their tightly circumcised
cocks. But at least the ladies are looking younger, fitter and more appealing
as eye candy!
Circumcision also calls to mind the Christian sacraments. In the Church of
England there are three of these; Baptism, Confirmation and Communion.
In the Catholic Church there are a number of extra sacraments including
holy matrimony and ordination to the priesthood. Every sacrament, argue
theologians, imparts a permanent and everlasting character to the soul.
Well, circumcision certainly does nothing as spiritually profound as that;
but, at a more vulgar, cruder, corporeal level it certainly imparts a
permanent and everlasting character to the cock! I remember the comment
of one closely cropped victim ruefully explaining on an internet discussion
group how he had avoided AIDS: "I only have sex with my wife of 31 years.
Wish I could feel it." Ouch! I bet he does! In your dreams, sucker!
This brings me to the concept of “cock control.” This is derived from the
idea of “mind control,” as featured in a large number of stories posted on
the Internet. Now mind control is not for me. I do not want to curtail a man’s
freedom of thought. If, for example, he reads Shakespeare plays and
reaches his own independent conclusions about their image patterns, I
have no objection at all. I do not even mind what views he has on politics,
or which party he votes for. All of that is far too ethereal and vacuous for
me to worry about. But his cock, and what he does with it, is another
matter; that I do want to control. I want to take from him as many sexual
preferences and options as I can. I want to deny him all of those little
choices, alternatives and variations that a long, full, luxuriant foreskin
provides. During sexual intercourse I want a tight, stiff, denuded shaft that
goes in, out, in, out, and can do little else. Likewise when a cut man
masturbates he may try a wide variety of techniques. But he would be well
advised to eschew these and confine himself to going up down, up down.
This is because any experimentation will almost certainly be not only
painful but also ineffective since the exquisite sensations for which he is
seeking are just not there. Look, buster, this ain’t Burger King. After a
short, sharp acquaintance with my trusty chopping knife you no longer get it
your way; you get it my way or you don’t damn get it!
Another sexy phenomenon is the widespread use of male circumcision on
blacks, in both the USA and Africa. I am not by nature a racist, but like a lot
of white women I am ambivalent about black guys, and about all the stories
and hype concerning the size of their choppers. The thought of a big black
man with an enormous cock excites but also unnerves me. In my view,
cocks that big deserve to be cut to size, and the bigger the cock the funnier
and sexier it is when it takes the chop. The black cocks that are regularly
on display in “Playgirl” seriously turn me on. They must turn other readers
on too, or fewer of them would get published. Some of those dusky studs
have got enormous tools. But, like their white brothers, they have nearly all
taken the knife. You will see a big black stallion, his tool more than half way
down to his knees, with an enormous prick tip that seems to be about the
size of a black billiard ball. Then all around the big, thick shaft is an ugly
scar, blacker than the skin that it cuts through. White men, as I say, usually
have about 15 square inches of foreskin missing, and their circumcision
scars are normally about 5 inches long. For black guys I reckon the
average figures must be a few more square inches of prepuce and perhaps
another half an inch of scar tissue. All this is as true of African blacks as it
is of blacks in the USA; and, like their US brothers, a very large number of
African males are circumcised, often very comprehensively, inexpertly and
messily, leaving their cocks beautifully beat up and disfigured. Again, wow,
oh wow! Come here, black boy! Take down your trousers and hold out your
prick. How dare you lust after white missy! Now cop this - you deserve it!
Snip, snip, snip, throb, yell! Now bend over! You are also getting 6 cuts of
the cane across your bare black bottom! Swish, crack, swish, crack, etc.
Wow! How I would love to inflict a punishment like that! Except that, being
tender hearted, I might condescend to use a local anaesthetic for the
surgery.
(Note: I got the idea for this fantasy from a news report from South Africa
in the days of apartheid. A black man on a railway station had commented
to a white lady standing nearby, "Missy, you got nice legs!" You may think
that this was a trivial and harmless peccadillo, but the beak took a different
view. Just for that the offender was sentenced to 12 cuts of the cane. The
judge (obviously a bigoted, atavistic racist) commented that he thought
that, in this case, the punishment was particularly appropriate for the
offence. Wow! It was well unjust, but, even so, what a strict and sharp
comeuppance for a saucy but completely innocuous compliment! I bet the
lady (who, like the judge, was almost certainly a racist, or she would not
have complained to the authorities in the first place) was well flattered and
well turned on by the penalty inflicted upon her admirer! I can imagine her
smugly gloating to her female friends about it in her exclusive white suburb:
"The insolent kaffir! I had him caned for it, you know! Yes, thanks to me he
got twelve of the best across his bare black bottom! And I would do it
again, too!”)
Actually, proposals for the widespread circumcision of blacks in Africa are
currently in the news. As you may have heard, medical research has
unearthed the interesting fact that black males on the Dark Continent who
have been circumcised are at least four times less likely than
uncircumcised blacks to contract Aids, even when their lifestyles are
indistinguishable. The research further indicates that for uncircumcised
Africans it is the foreskin that is the problem. It is not that the glans, when
covered by a foreskin, remains unkeratinised and hence prone to infection.
It is that the foreskin itself contains cells that let the Aids virus pass through
them. The solution is quick, cheap and simple: the universal circumcision of
every man in Africa, black, white, Cape Coloured or whatever, until there is
not a single foreskin on an adult male throughout the entire continent. We
need to chop off every foreskin in Africa, and we need to chop it off very,
very thoroughly. Indeed, to make absolutely sure of effective protection
against Aids, we need to chop off a good thick swathe of shaft skin, and
the entire frenulum, together with the foreskin. This may seem harsh, but
we have to be cruel to be kind. Yes, line up all the uncircumcised men in
Africa and chop them; and chop them very hard and very tight. Not a
vestige of loose skin should be left on their cocks, even when they are
flaccid. When their cocks are erect the cock skin should be pulled so tight
over their stiffened shafts that it makes their faces wince, and their eyes
water. After all, we do not want to leave any little flaps and folds of skin for
the virus to nestle in, do we? It would all be a big job, of course. But I for
one would happily volunteer to help! Perhaps the World Heath
Organisation could organise teams of volunteer cock choppers to do the
work in their holidays. Wow! What a splendid way to spend the Summer
Vacation! If I had three weeks, say, to do it in, I reckon that I could make
several thousand foreskins bite the dust. Oh yes! “Chop ’til you drop” would
be my motto, and there would be some bare cock heads, some sore cocks,
and a lot of guys feeling very, very chastened and very, very sorry for
themselves by the time I had finished with them. Oh, yes! I would make
sure that they winced and shuddered at the memory of little missy with the
knife for the rest of their lives! Not, of course, that I would be prejudiced in
my surgery. I would scrupulously chop the cocks of blacks, Cape
Coloureds, white South Africans of Dutch and British descent, etc., etc.,
with equal strictness and severity!
But enough of fantasies. What is not fantasy but fact is that I regularly
circumcise men in my capacity as a surgeon. Oh, yes! I am a right little
cock botherer, prick punisher, willie worrier and knob robber, I can tell you! I
am small, but I am deadly! I am of slight build and I stand a mere 5 feet 3
inches, or a total of 63 inches, in my stockinged feet. And I cut off, on
average, a length of foreskin of between 5 and 6 inches at every
circumcision. So for every dozen or so cocks that I chop I cut off my own
height and more in foreskin. Or, to put it another way, I chop off the best
part of 10 per cent of my own body height from each cock that I butcher.
Oh wow! I can tell you that if you get circumcised by me you know you've
been cut! After all, what is the point of any surgery unless it makes a
difference? If I circumcised someone and it had no effect I would have
failed. I would have expended valuable effort to no purpose. In short, I
would have wasted my time. So I always ensure that I _do_ make a
difference, and a very significant difference at that! After he has felt my
knife a man is never the same again, and he never forgets what I have
done to him! I picture him as he wistfully remembers what it was like before
he lost his prepuce. I imagine him as he recalls the old days, before he was
cut, when his stiff, moist, excited cock would glide up and down a lady's
sticky, aroused, receptive pussy. Perhaps he calls to mind the exquisite
sensations as tens of thousands of nerves and sensitive receptors on his
foreskin pleasured his cock and sent his entire central nervous system into
Nirvana and seventh heaven. Then, perchance, he winces that his dry,
denuded, desensitised cockhead is no longer delivering the same quality of
service, and he ponders on whether or not it was a good idea to let me
loose on him with my knife. Well, sorry sucker! You were a chump to let me
do what I did to you, but it is too late now; there is no going back!
Let me explain how I get to circumcise my victims. After my experience
with Maggie's husband, I decided to specialise in urino-genital surgery.
This, as I hoped it would, has opened up (so to speak!) a number of
possibilities (not to say, of cocks!). For example, the standard surgical
treatment for conditions such as phimosis is removal of the foreskin. Other
men (suckers!) proffer their pricks from choice, or because they have a
Jewish or Muslim wife or girlfriend that they want to please, or because
they misguidedly think that the circumcised cock looks better, or because
they are masochists, or because - _I_ don't know!
I have to be careful how I play it, of course. But I think it is fair to say that
a very large number of patients suspected of suffering from phimosis and
similar conditions, boys and men, have had their cocks chopped by me in
circumstances where, let us say, a less interventionist surgeon might have
abstained from surgery and recommended more conservative medical
treatments! If there is the least excuse for it, or even if there is no excuse at
all and I can get away with it, I _always_ chop. And I _always_ chop very
hard! On every single occasion that I have circumcised a cock I have
invariably taken off more skin than is recommended in the medical text-
books, and have done my very best to remove all vestiges of the deliciously
sensitive frenulum. Yes, sir! To repeat: I take off all of the frenulum and as
much of the other cock skin as I dare to without facing the risk of a
successful claim for damages from the victim. Wowee! As my husband
John puts it, I sure pack a mean blade! And he should know! (See below.)
Yet so far I have been lucky. Many are the cocks I have butchered, and
every single cock owner has taken the chop like a lamb to the slaughter.
Thankfully, no post-operative difficulties have ever been blamed on the fact
that I am more than a little slash happy and over-enthusiastic with my knife!
I am determined to keep on chopping cocks for as long and as hard as I
can. I solemnly swear to you, that if ever I get the chance to cut a cock and
I let it pass, or do not cut it as hard as I can get away with, I will let my
husband administer 6 hard cuts of the cane across my bare bottom - and
serve me right too. The only exception are my own sons (see below),
whose cocks, as a loving mother, I condescended to spare from the knife.
There has fairly recently been set up in Britain a branch of the US
pressure group CAC (Campaign Against Circumcision). Its members are
mostly men who have a hang up over being chopped. CAC members go
around squawking like a bevy of deflowered virgins, outraged at their loss
and stridently demanding back their maidenhoods. But when once the cock
is chopped, and the flesh is off, to paraphrase the folk song: "A foreskin on
the cock there will never more be, Until apples grow on an orange tree."
Some of these men, resentful and/or angry, join support groups to bleat
about having been snipped. Others attempt so-called "foreskin restoration"
by hanging weights on their willies and other ridiculous, hilarious, painful
and usually completely ineffective practices. For no matter how many
weights a cut man hangs on his willie it is as vain and useless for him to
strive for the return of his prepuce as for a deflowered virgin to attempt the
restitution of her hymen. What is lost is lost forever, and the victim will
never get it back.
This point is well made on the CAC website, which contains some
hilarious clips (so to speak) or sound bites (cuts?) from history. Here is a
sample.
1. Source: *Our London Letter,* _Medical World_ 1900, vol.77:pp.707-8.
Circumcision probably tends to increase the power of sexual control. The only
physiological advantage which the prepuce can be supposed to confer is that of
maintaining the penis in a condition susceptible to more acute sensation than
would otherwise exist. It may increase the pleasure of intercourse and the
impulse to it: but these are advantages which in the present state of society can
well be spared. If in their loss increase in sexual control should result, one should
be thankful.
2. Source: E. Harding Freeland, _The Lancet_, vol. 2 (29 Dec. 1900),
pp.1869-1871.
It has been urged as an argument against the universal adoption of circumcision
that the removal of the protective covering of the glans tends to dull the
sensitivity of that exquisitely sensitive structure and thereby diminishes sexual
appetite and the pleasurable effects of coitus. Granted that this be true, my
answer is that, whatever may have been the case in days gone by, sensuality in
our time needs neither whip nor spur, but would be all the better for a little more
judicious use of curb and bearing-rein.
3. Source: L.W. Wuesthoff, MD, “Benefits of Circumcision,” _Medical
World_ (1915) Vol.33, p.434.
Circumcision … reduces … the so-called passion of which so many married men
are so extremely proud, to the detriment of their wives and their married life.
Many youthful rapes could be prevented, many separations, and divorces also,
and many an unhappy marriage improved if this unnatural passion was cut down
by a timely circumcision.
4. Source: R.W. Cockshut (No! Really!), _British Medical Journal_, Vol.2
(1935), p.764.
All male children should be circumcised. This is "against nature", but that is
exactly the reason why it should be done. Nature intends that the adolescent
male shall copulate as often and as promiscuously as possible, and to that end
covers the sensitive glans so that it shall be ever ready to receive stimuli.
Civilization, on the contrary, requires chastity, and the glans of the circumcised
rapidly assumes a leathery texture less sensitive than skin. Thus the adolescent
has his attention drawn to his penis much less often. I am convinced that
masturbation is much less common in the circumcised. With these
considerations in view it does not seem apt to argue that God knows best how to
make little boys.
The correct response to CAC members, and, indeed, to all men who resent
their circumcisions, is to laugh at them, to tease them, and to belittle them.
They may think that what has been done to them is outrageous, but we
should not agree. On the contrary, we should say that it is no big deal.
They should stop being babies. They should grow up and quit whingeing.
At first, they should be told, their complaints were amusing; but they are
now becoming boring, annoying even. So they have had their cocks
chopped! So what! What's the big deal? After all, it was only a little snip.
They are seriously self-obsessed, and they need to pull themselves
together, to forget it, and to get on with their lives. The point was well put by
a lady called Amanda in an internet posting that I read recently:
Why does it matter if men have optimal sexual pleasure? They're obviously getting
enough that it's a driving force in most of their lives. If they were any more into it,
would that really be a good thing? To me, worrying that a lack of foreskin has
diminished sexual pleasure is like worrying that having burned my tongue as a child
has diminished my sense of taste. Even if it's true, which it may well be, I still love
food almost to excess, so what's the real damage?
That is not how the members of CAC see it, of course. I have prevailed
upon my husband to subscribe to the CAC Newsletter, and it is a very sexy
and amusing read. I quote from one edition. As a result of circumcision, the
writer states, "the raw glans becomes totally exposed, which, with the
remaining inner foreskin, becomes dried membrane and leaves the shaft
skin taut and immobile. This ‘little snip’ removes up to 36% of the shaft
skin. A permanent, visible penile scar remains." (Thirty-six per cent? And
the rest if I am performing the surgery!) Later, the author bewails the loss of
pleasure which circumcision causes: "The foreskin is a unique organ, richly
supplied with sensory nerves and blood vessels. Without doubt the foreskin
enhances sexual pleasure." (Whereas cutting it off, of course, ends it!)
Then, in a later edition, another writes: “During heavy petting, my fiancée, a
nurse receptionist, ran a finger over my glans and around the scar
explaining, ‘We have a circumcision tomorrow.’ My face must have glowed
in the dark.” Ouch! I bet it did! The same correspondent goes on to give
numerous other details about how carefully he conceals his operation, and
about how embarrassing he finds it all. Wow! I just love it when they get all
coy, secretive and embarrassed!
(Note, by the way, that this members face “must have glowed in the dark”
because of his humiliation and embarrassment at his own mutilation; I
doubt that he was overly concerned about the poor sucker who was about
to take the chop the next day. A lot of CAC members have a similar
attitude. To their credit some enlightened campaigners attempt to pressure
politicians against RIC; but many members are not interested and see that
as a diversion. What they want is support and guidance on foreskin
restoration and they exhibit the utmost indifference to whether or not others
take the chop. Indeed, I suspect that some of them would like it if RIC were
more common in the UK. They resent their own chopping but display a
grim satisfaction and determination that the same fate should be inflicted
upon others.)
Then, in the same edition of the Newsletter, there is another article entitled
“NOT ‘just a little piece of skin!’” In this another member writes: “I have
been studying details of a very interesting visual aid from the USA that
illustrates just how much skin is lost by circumcision. Cut out a card 3” x 5”.
Bring the two ends of the card together and hold the card together with
your finger so the card forms a ring. Hold the ring up to your audience and
say: “This ring represents an average male foreskin. Like this ring, the
circumference of the average man’s erect penis is 5 inches around and the
average foreskin length in 1.5 inches on the outer foreskin and another 1.5
inches in the inner foreskin. The total area of the foreskin then on an adult
male is equal to this 3” x 5” card (open up the card). This is how much skin
an adult male loses from being circumcised as an infant. That is almost
36% of his penile shaft skin!” Continue by saying “The area of skin the size
of a 10p piece contains more than 12 feet of nerves and over 50 nerve
endings. As you can see, fifteen 10p pieces fit easily on this card with room
to spare. Infant circumcision robs men of 240 ft. of nerves and over 1,000
nerve endings meant to enhance… sexual pleasure.” In an accompanying
illustration, an area of the page 3” x 5” is marked off, and 15 circles with the
same circumference as a 10p piece are drawn within it in three rows and
five columns. Wow! That rectangle looks huge! What a clit-stiffener!
Well, I cannot really argue with all that, except to say that while these
writers consider that this is outrageous, I just think that it is all very, very
sexy and very, very funny. A favourite word of these bleaters is
"keratinisation." Keratin is hard, horny tissue, and they claim that
circumcision makes them hard and horny in the glans department by
thickening and desensitising the skin. I can also tell you that it makes me
hard and horny in the clitoris department by really turning me on! At the
moment these whingers are an irritant rather than a threat. In England,
CAC is very small, and, thankfully, likely to remain so for the foreseeable
future. And in the US a large majority of boy babies are still chopped
because, according to the latest figures that I am aware of, the doctors
pocket about $200 million a year by charging for the surgery.
Note: I do not know what the current figures are, but, a short time ago,
surgeons in the USA usually charged about $100 for a circumcision.
Therefore, with a total of about $200 million netted every year, about 2
million US babies a year got chopped. Calculating an adult prepuce at 15
sq. inches, this amounts to 30 million sq. inches of cock skin cut off every
year. This amounts to 20,833 square feet or 145 square yards. At the same
rate of chopping, over the last 70 years, there is a total of about 10,150
square yards of foreskin missing from the cocks of US males. This
represents a square area of 100.75 yards wide and 100.75 yards long.
That amounts to more than 2 football (or, to US readers, soccer) pitches!
Alternatively, an acre is 4,840 sq. yards, so the total amount of missing
cock skin adds up to 2.1 acres. Wow! More than _two_ acres! And, for
each victim, two _achers_, that is _balls achers_, aching balls, a pain in
both testicles, as well! (Figuratively and metaphorically, that is, the pain is
in the balls. In reality and in practice it is on the cock!) Makes you think,
does it not? The sheer scale of the chopping really turns me on! The USA
currently has the biggest number of circumcised males at one time and
place ever, in recorded history. Great! Long live circumcision! Long may the
chopping continue!
Indeed, it is probably even better than that! Two football pitches! And the
rest probably! This is because US circumcision figures almost certainly
underestimate the number of men who have been cut, probably by about 5
percent or more. You see, quite a number of American males are ignorant
about the snip and completely unaware that they have been circumcised at
all. When they are asked about their circumcision status they reply that
they are uncut even though they have taken the chop. I know that this
sounds ridiculous. Indeed, it is ridiculous. But it is, nevertheless, perfectly
true, and it means that estimates of the prevalence of circumcision in the
US that are based on self-assessment are now largely discredited. Let me
cite you an amusing example. Here is a snippet (so to speak) posted onto
the Internet by a lady called Harriet Hall:
(Snippet starts.)
When I was working in an Air Force hospital emergency room one night, a
young airman came in requesting a circumcision. I asked him why he
wanted one. He said a couple of his friends had had it done, and he’d
heard it was a good idea, and he was going to be getting out of the Air
Force pretty soon and wanted to have it done while Uncle Sam would still
foot the bill. I examined him: he had a neatly circumcised penis without so
much as a hint of any foreskin remnant. I’ve always wondered what he
thought we were going to cut off.
(Snippet ends.)
Now Harriet herself seems to be in favour of circumcision and she has an
appropriately robust and dismissive attitude towards its victims: “If some
men are psychologically damaged by circumcision and mourn their lost
foreskin, their mental
health must be pathologically fragile. Get over it, guys!” Oh yes! Harriet is a
fan of the snip. So why then, if this young airman wanted to be cut again,
did she not cut him again? Oh, wow! Given the chance I would have done
just that! He had already taken a single chop that had stripped his cock and
left his cockhead naked. I would have given him a double chop that cut off
an extra strip of inner mucosa. Incorporated into that chop I would also
have inflicted a triple chop that cut off an extra strip of shaft skin. Strip!
Strip! Strip! Three strips of cock skin cut off! Oh yes! I would have stripped
his cock even more naked that it already was! He may have been an
airman flying through the skies but I would have brought his sexual
pleasure down to earth with a bump!
Incidentally, these days, if you would like to see exactly what, and how
much, skin has been lopped, hacked and chopped off the cocks of
American males it is easy to do so. As well as numerous websites with
illustrations of cut dick, there are some very sexy and amusing discussion
groups. My two favourites are "Cock Shots" and "Cut Cocks." "Cock Shots"
is useful for comparative purposes, since it features men (for example,
from England, France, Germany and Scandinavia) with intact tackle as well
as guys (mainly from the US) who have taken the knife. From Europe,
there are bulky foreskins, purple helmets and intact frenulums aplenty. This
is both irritating and instructive. It is irritating because I would just love to
take a good, sharp, carbon steel surgical scapular to those complete, entire
European males and rob them of a small but significant piece of
themselves. But hey! On the other hand it does clearly show just how
viciously many circumcised cocks in the USA have been pruned.
The "Cut Cocks" group is unbelievable. Many of the guys have been
chopped back so hard that when they are erect it has just got to hurt. The
skin is pulled so tightly up their stiffened shafts that there is no leeway at all
for movement up or down, and frequently skin from the scrotum is tugged
more than half way up towards the glans. There is one stunning movie clip
called "Tight Cut Hand Job" in which a woman is tugging a young man's
cock up and down, trying to bring him to orgasm. Well, she is very brisk
and firm with him, and she shows him no mercy as she yanks and pulls at
his excited member. But the surgeon has been so very, very strict with him,
and has chopped his cock with such deft, expert, wicked spite that the
lady's best and most enthusiastic efforts are in vain. The skin up the young
man's shaft is pulled so tight by his erection that it gleams and glistens; and
all of the young lady's violent ministrations barely move it more than a
centimetre or two. Meanwhile, the lady's violent assault must be leaving the
recipient with a very raw, sore and tender dick!
Then, posted to the "Cut Cocks" group, there are the dicks with missing
and denuded frenulums. Many of the guys are photographed facing the
camera, with their cocks erect and their tightened frenulums (or, more
usually, their tightened skin where their frenulums should be), displayed
clearly and visibly to the amused and excited observer. Whenever I get an
email attachment with a frenulum free cock exhibited unambiguously and
unequivocally I always copy it to file. Over the past few years I have
amassed several thousand, such jpegs. And oh wow! The way those cocks
have been butchered is wicked! As well as the ugly, jagged scars, the thick
brown rings from the Gomco clamps, the skin flaps, the stitch tunnels and
the vicious chopping away, not only of the foreskin, but also of the shaft
skin lying between it and the base of the scrotum, there is, worst of all for
the victim, the hacking off of the frenulum. In many cases, where there
should be a generous triangle of stringy, twangy membrane, all you can
see is a completely smooth, bare skin patch between the underneath of the
cockhead and the circumcision scar. In addition, sometimes there is a
wicked little pit or hollow in the cleft underneath the glans; in these cases
the tip of the frenulum that should be attached to the cockhead has been
rudely and crudely hacked out and excavated.
At present, for example, as I write this, I am toggling onto and off the
screen a couple of jpegs. One of them is of a big hulking stud with "Tracy"
tattooed in very large letters across his lower tummy, and with his big, fat
cock flopped across his tattoo and displaying its underside. Oh wow! That
is gorgeous. The cut taken by the cock was inflicted freehand style. There
is no sign of a "brown ring of justice" stamped onto it by a Gomco clamp. It
is, indeed, difficult to discern the scar at all, but if you look closely you can
just about make it out. The cut is low and tight, and, on the underside, it
slopes towards the cock head in a wicked V shape. The result is that most
of the frenulum has been hacked away and replaced by less sensitive
outer skin from lower down the cockshaft. Then, as if to mock the victim
even more cruelly for the barbaric outrage inflicted upon him, there is a tiny,
thin cord of skin, all that is left of the tip of the frenulum. This is not much
thicker than sewing thread and it stretches a very short distance from just
left of the dimpled ridge underneath the cock head to the point of the V-
shaped scar. Oh wow! Ouch!!! Has that guy's big, fat, juicy sausage been
well skinned! Such a handsome boy, too! I bet that all of the girls are after
him. I bet that his Tracy is a right little stunner. I bet that when he gets her
into bed with him he enjoys her. But hey! We do not want our stud to get
_too_ overexcited do we? And thanks to his humbling little snip there is,
thank goodness, no danger whatsoever of that.
The other jpeg is of one of the handsomest men that I have ever seen, slim
and dark with rugged good looks and come-to-bed eyes. This man looks
far too classy to be featured on a porn shoot; but no, there he is, gazing
wistfully out at us ladies, his face melting our hearts, and his long, stiff tool
moistening our pussies. But hey! Take a look at that tool! I have never seen
anyone cut lower and tighter. Virtually the whole of the inner foreskin, and
every last vestige of the frenulum, has been hacked away so that the
insensitive outer shaft skin stretches right up to the glans. There is only the
thinnest strip of pink inner foreskin between the outer shaft skin and the
thick, desensitised, keratinised skin of the cockhead. Wow! Take that big
boy! Serves you right for driving us ladies to lusting distraction and for
provoking within us shameful, guilty fantasies and indecent, sinful thoughts!
So oh, wow, ladies! If you want a good laugh and a sexy turn-on here is
what to do. Create a folder on your computer and save to it as many jpegs
as you can find that feature stiff, circumcised, frenulum-free cocks. Then
run a slide show of these cocks. Note how smooth and tight they all are on
their undersides just below the glans or cock head. Yes, go on! Gasp,
wince and giggle at the deft, stunning butchery that has been inflicted on
those cocks, and think how many millions of other US males have suffered
the same mutilation. Wow! Chop! Chop! Chop! Got y'all! Soon your
clitorises will stiffen and you will be all hard and horny. Then, when you
have run through the slideshow a few times pause it and contemplate each
mutilated member at your leisure and in detail. Take your time and study
every image thoroughly. In a very short time your clitorises will be as stiff as
nails, your vulvas as moist and sticky as honey pots, and you will be tickling
and rubbing your love tunnels to violent, explosive orgasm.
But it is not only the images of butchered cocks that are of interest. There
are also the reports of how the victims of circumcision feel about the
butchery inflicted upon them. The best way to study this is to read their
Internet blogs. Oh yes! Circumcision certainly gives those who have taken
it something to think about, something to analyse, and something to ponder
on for the rest of their lives. Some men are distressed to the point of
obsession and paranoia by what has been inflicted upon them. The snip
dominates their entire lives and they can think of little else. They pour out
venomous hatred against the surgeons who cut them and lament the loss
of their foreskins with loud howls of outrage and self-pity. They will analyse
their mutilation with great care and precision, illustrating their analysis with
photographs of their butchered cocks. They will describe the effects of the
butchery on their love lives. They will describe in graphic detail the tight
tugging pain when their cocks are erect, and the soreness of their denuded
cock skin.
By way of contrast, there is one blogger whose contributions to the debate I
also find very interesting. As can be seen from the photographs that he
has posted, he has been very messily circumcised. However, the surgeon
has left him a small patch of frenulum. Sometimes therefore, he expresses
his grateful thanks for the remission that has been granted to him, whereas
at other times he attacks his persecutor fiercely for robbing him of his
birthright.
Another contributor ruefully complains that he has been very drastically and
messily chopped, and that his frenulum has been utterly and completely
cut off. "Why oh why," he asks, "are the surgeons so brutal? A full
circumcision is far too drastic a mutilation to be inflicted upon us. A half
circumcision I could tolerate; if only a short cuff of foreskin had been left to
me!" He thus appears to accept that the surgeon was within his rights to cut
him, and his argument is merely a matter of degree. He is like a motorist
who accepts that he has parked illegally and deserves to be punished, but
who indignantly complains at the swingeing severity of the fine; or like a
naughty schoolboy who does not question the authority of the teacher who
slippered him, but who protests that he should only have taken the more
moderate chastisement of six of the best rather than the twelve that he
actually got.
Other victims lament the loss of their own foreskins; but they laugh and
rejoice that other victims have been chopped more severely than them.
This demonstrates yet again that circumcision is like spanking and parking
fines; it is outrageous, it is not funny at all, when you are the victim; but it is
all very amusing when someone else is on the receiving end.
On the "Cut Cocks" website there are published a number of polls. One of
these invites group members to answer the question "Do you have a
frenulum?" Well, when I last looked there were a total of 88 votes cast. Of
these 28 (32 percent) said "yes," 14 (16 percent) said "partial" and 46 (52
percent) said "no." Wow! A clear majority who, on their own admission,
have been completely robbed of the male body's most sensitive,
erogenous, erotic and pleasurable zone! As the Scottish comedian, Billy
Connelly, might put it: "Outrageous! Disturbing! Tragic! But _very, very
funny_!"
If, as I strongly suspect, most of the surgeons performed their mutilations
knowingly and intentionally, with malice aforethought, they will have a lot to
answer for on the Day of Judgement. They have spitefully and vindictively
robbed their victims of an enormous, an incalculable, amount of sexual
pleasure and, if there is any justice, they will be made to pay for it.
(Whoops! On second thoughts I hope not! I myself am one of the worst
offenders!) The appalling thing is that the guys who have suffered this
outrageous injustice are pouting and smiling into the cameras, seemingly
without an inkling of the rape and pillage that have been inflicted upon their
cocks, or of the enormous amount of sexual pleasure from which they have
been so cruelly cut off.
Other sexy internet turn-ons are provided by the various pro-circumcision
websites. Of course, you also get websites that are frenetically opposed to
the practice, and these make all of the boring if perfectly true points about
the calamitous effects that circumcision has on sexual performance and
enjoyment. But, in addition, there is a small, vociferous minority who are in
favour of the chop, and who post their eulogies to it, together with some
very sexy photographs. Some of the posters claim to be ladies. There is,
for example, a character called "Wife with a Knife." She says that she is a
surgeon, that she prefers cut cocks, and that she has circumcised her
husband very "low and tight" and chopped off all of his frenulum. Her claim
is supported by an illustrative photograph of a man's cock that has been
mutilated in this precise fashion, with zero frenulum and no more than a
few millimetres of inner foreskin between the scar around the shaft skin
and the corona of the glans. Then a man purporting to be the victim of this
butchery claims that it was inflicted as a punishment; his wife had caught
him leering at scantily clad ladies on the beach and had slapped him down
with a sexy and amusing punishment. Other, similar, internet characters
include "Lady Chopemard, the Frenulum Remover," "Circe the
Circumciser," and "Nikki the Knifegirl." I suspect that at least some of these
posters are males engaged in masochistic fantasies. Certainly, there are a
number of men who claim that they have got themselves very tightly
circumcised because it turns them on. I take some of these claims with a
pinch of salt, but there is sometimes a supporting photograph that
illustrates very clearly that someone, somewhere has definitely taken a
very hard, very tight chop. Oh wow! Masochistic men proffering their pricks
from choice and telling the surgeon to cut off their frenulums and to chop
their cocks hard and tight! I would just love to get a piece of that action! By
the time I had finished with them they would need to be very, very
masochistic not to rue and resent what I had done to them!
Mention of my husband a while ago, and of the "Wife with a Knife" in the
previous paragraph, brings me to the next part of my tale. At the time when
I circumcised Maggie's husband, I had a boy friend called John. I had
known him a long time. Since I had been 15 he had idolised me and had
been importuning me to go out with him. But I was a veritable bitch and I
really made him sweat. It had taken many years before I had
condescended to grant him any favours at all. It was a lot longer than that
before I agreed to go out with him fairly regularly, and even then I stressed
that it was only on a casual basis. As for getting me into bed with him, he
was still a million miles away from that.
John had been asking me to marry him for ages, but I had always refused
using the excuse that I wanted to put my career first. I liked having him
around, and I suppose that I was taking for granted the fact that I could
have him whenever I wanted him. If he had acted the bastard and played
the field a bit I think that he could have made me very jealous, but he was
too besotted and too nice for that.
My attitude towards John, however, was changing now that I was coming
up to my mid- to late twenties. No handsome, dashing prince had come to
sweep me off my feet. Indeed, I did not even remotely fancy any other
man, even though I often went out with them, to John's great distress. John
was very kind, very nice, very considerate and very much in love with me. I
also had to admit that he was very good company. Moreover, I wanted
children, and the biological time scale was getting shorter. Yet I still had this
caricature of John as being Mr. Nice, Mr. Safe and Mr. Boring. As I was to
learn well later on, I was quite wrong. But that was how I felt at the time.
Anyhow, that was the way things stood at the time when I circumcised Jim.
Jim's little operation, and Maggie's accounts of how she subsequently
tormented and punished him, had sexually excited me more fiercely than
anything else I had ever known. I became obsessed with circumcision to
the extent, as I say, that I chose a surgical specialism that would enable
me to pursue my interest for the rest of my professional life. From then on,
the mere thought of circumcising a man has always sent a sharp sexual
frisson down my spine. I suppose that, like Maggie, I am a bit kinky. I like
the thought of dominating men and of putting my mark on them
permanently, and I can think of no funnier or sexier place to mark them
than all around their cocks. Oh yes, most men are so macho and so proud
of their willies that a little snip in the appropriate place is the perfect
comeuppance for their inflated sexual egos! But I digress. You know all this
already because I told you earlier.
A month after I had circumcised Jim, John asked me to marry him again.
He had done this dozens of times before. But this time he got a shock. I
said yes. Well, not quite yes. What I actually said was yes but... The
marriage would only take place, I added, if John was prepared to let me
circumcise him, to my satisfaction, first. John, of course, had heard all
about how I had circumcised Jim, and he knew how circumcision turned
me on. Nevertheless, and to my surprise, he immediately agreed to my
kinky, not to say preposterous, proposal, even though, unlike Maggie's Jim,
he had done absolutely nothing to deserve such a painful, embarrassing
and humiliating mutilation. As with Jim, John was booked to be chopped at
8 a.m. on a Saturday morning.
My build up to the operation was similar to Maggie's. The night before the
operation I invited John round to my flat and cooked him a sumptuous
candlelit meal with all the trimmings (including, later, I teased, a trimming
for his cock!). Then we sat on the settee and, for the first time ever, I
allowed John the privilege of a spot of heavy petting. I will not give a full
account. Suffice to say that soon John was stripped to his shirt and
underpants, and me to my bra and knickers and we were writhing around
helplessly. Then we undressed each other completely and lay there naked
with our two bodies ecstatically entwined together. John fingered me to two
orgasms, working on my breasts, vulva and other erogenous zones with a
skill that took me completely by surprise. In return I worked my fiancée to a
total of four orgasms, using my hands, the insides of my thighs and, finally,
my mouth and tongue. When he tried to shag me though I was very strict
with him. I told him that he would only enjoy _that_ privilege after he had
been cut. "Your foreskin" I confirmed, "will never enter my pussy. You will
never enjoy me perfectly. You do not deserve that much pleasure!" Then I
broke into impromptu verse:
On my chopping block your cock I'll dock
For I'm one of the fans of a naked glans
And your cockhead I'll bare before it goes there.
Wow! What a bitch I was to him! John, however, was distinctly over-excited
by what he _was_ getting. He had waited for this for more than 12 years,
and now that he was getting it he was so ecstatic and excited that I found it
distinctly unnerving. As his orgasms approached I had him threshing
around in the wildest abandon with his arms and legs flying everywhere, his
body writhing helplessly, and his mouth uttering involuntary grunts and
helpless little screams. "Oh, my God!" he screamed as I brought him off for
the third time with some delicious little darting flicks from my moist tongue.
"You're so skilful. You're so damned skilful." "Of course I am" I replied
pertly through my mouthful of glans, frenulum, shaft and foreskin. "I'm no
naive virgin like some I could name. Practice makes perfect. Yours isn't the
first cock I've had in my mouth, young man, and it won't be the first to get
up my pussy. With me, youthful sir, you are acquiring a very experienced
and accomplished lady." Now in retrospect I realise that this was a cruel
gibe, and well out of order. It was way out of line to tease John about his
long maintained virginity, concerning which he was very sensitive and
embarrassed. And it was unforgivable to boast in such a bold and
triumphalist way about my past sexual exploits to a jealous and as yet
unrequited lover. In the short term, however, my mockery had the intended
effect. It jolted John over the edge. "Oh, you bitch!" he groaned in ecstasy.
"You randy, horny, spiteful, venomous bitch! How dare you tease and
torment me because I have been faithful while you have been opening your
legs for the dick of any Tom or Harry who took your fancy. Oh, God. You
deserve a bloody good thrashing for that, my girl, and no mistake. Oh!
Oooh!! _Oooooh_!!!" I did not fancy swallowing on that occasion, and I just
managed to get John's cock out of my mouth before he ejaculated. When
he did, despite his previous two emissions, he scattered spunk all over the
ceiling--a tribute, as John has since admitted, to the effectiveness of my
spiteful, kinky verbals.
Not that that was the end of said spiteful and kinky verbals, since I then
began to tease John about his forthcoming operation, whispering
seductively into his ear. "Look at this foreskin", I said, bursting into verse:
"It's lengthy and loose
Like a long necked goose.
It's baggy and saggy, limp and slack
But watch out boys I'll chop it back
Your penis I will rip and snip
I'll tear you off a big thick strip
Your prepuce I will make you doff
I'll bacon slice your foreskin off.
I'll cut your cock and trim it sprightly
I'll circumcise it very tightly
I'll trap it firm and when it's caught
I'll strip and skin it nice and taut."
I had composed these ditties in advance to turn me on and to wind John
up, and they achieved both of these objectives beautifully! Nor did John's
torment end with his operation. He has continued to be the butt of my
saucy wit and ribald mickey taking now that he has taken the chop. For
example, I will quip and give him lip and jip that I was the girl to clip, nip,
snip, rip and strip his tip, hassle his tassel, dock his cock, rob his knob and
make it throb, snip his prick, trim his wick, nail his stale, flail his tail and
make him wail and rail, nick his pullover and give him a chilly willie. I
perform these verses in a rhythmic and declamatory style, after the fashion
of Eminem and similar pop stars, and I give them the generic title of "The
Cock Rap." Then I will start to tease my husband about his prick tip or
glans. Before I cut the foreskin from off it a thin, delicate membrane of
exquisitely sensitive, purple coloured skin covered it. Now, however, his
bell end has calloused over and cornified into a thick, hardened,
desensitised knob. During our lovemaking I will flick up and down across
the tip of this knob with my fingers and knuckles. "Wow!" I will say
admiringly. "You've gone all thick and leathery down there, young man, like
well tanned pigskin or cowhide. Yes, my boy! I've given your cock head a
good tanning and no mistake!" To which John will reply (see below for
reference): "Yes, my girl, and I have whipped your hip and tanned you too!"
Then, sometimes, if I am lucky, I can goad John into genuine raw
resentment. “My cock,” he will say, “is red, hard and very, very angry at
what you have done to him. He will make you and your womb pay for the
crime, the sin of your right hand. How would you feel if someone had
skinned you alive?” John then goes on to fuck me, violently and very, very
hard!
Now, dear reader, before I give an account of how I circumcised John, I
think that I need to tell you about my two main styles of circumcision, the
messy and the neat.
First, let me expound upon the messy style. This is my favourite method,
and it is the one that, as I have told you elsewhere, I inflicted upon the
husband of my best friend to pay him back for committing adultery against
her. Messy circumcisions are performed briskly, smartly, carelessly,
insouciantly, and at speed. Cosmetic considerations are of the utmost
unimportance and indifference to the surgeon, whose sole concern is that
the absolute minimum amount of valuable and expensive time should be
wasted upon a procedure that is minor, trivial and routine. The surgeon
aims for a comprehensive chop, but, acting in haste, may cut off either
slightly less, or considerably more, skin than usual. When the chopping is
over, the stitching up of the wound is also performed with the utmost pace,
carelessness and gay abandon. The result is a battered, beat up cock
sporting an ugly, livid scar and, most probably, a number of skin flaps and
stitch tunnels to boot. When the wound is healed the result is usually
similar to the cock of an adult circumcised as a neonate. In the latter case,
however, the same effect was obtained because of the difficulty of cutting a
very small cock with any precision. Any small error made by a surgeon
circumcising a baby, such, for example, as the creation of a small skin flap
or stitch tunnel, is magnified as the cock grows bigger. Also, many people
who circumcise babies are amateurs rather than trained consultants, and
they are often not very precise in the first place. This, perhaps, is why they
refer to the circumcision of a Jewish baby at 8 days old as a “brisk.” The
mohel “briskly” chops off the offending foreskin!
Of course, the ultimate extension of this line of thinking is for the surgeon to
delegate all neonatal cock cutting to a nurse. I have seen this advocated by
at least one writer. The argument, as stated above, is that circumcision is a
trite and trivial operation, and that surgeons have much more important
things to do than to perform it. It is something that a nurse can easily be
trained up to do, and that should therefore be “deskilled.” Actually, I quite
like the idea. “Circumcise those six baby boys, will you nurse. I am going
now.” Circumcision is a mutilation that many victims curse, fret and fume
about. What a wind up for them to discover that the surgeon was so
heedless and insensitive to their fate that she delegated the work to a
minion and went home early! And yet, I do not think that I could ever agree
to let someone else perform one of my circumcisions, even of a neonate,
for me. I like to make sure, each and every time, that I perform a thorough
job, and, who knows, perhaps the nurse might just be a little bit too
cautious and conservative in her chopping!
The alternative to the messy circumcision is the neat one. This is the
method that I usually employ, since most of my victims are adults who
would notice and resent a messy cut. This is a pity, since I prefer the
messy method. But, on the other hand, there is something kinky about
performing such a barbarous operation with finesse and precision. I
remember a news story, from Saudi Arabia I think. It claimed that the
authorities were still amputating hands as a punishment for robbery but
that, instead of just cutting them off they were removing them neatly in
hospital, with anaesthetics and qualified surgeons. Now that really _is_
sick! But when I do exactly the same thing with foreskins I think that it is a
kinky hoot. Then, if I stitch up the underside of the cock neatly the victim
assumes that the removal of the frenulum is normal practice (or, at least, all
of my victims have so far, touch wood). In short, it is easier to get away with
a tight cut if it is also a neat one.
But I digress. I seem to remember that I left John and me engaged in a
spot of heavy petting. Well, in order to have John’s cock to hand for a
prompt 8 a.m. chop, I let him sleep with me that night. Wow! Did he try to
cash in and take liberties! However, I let him go so far but no further. As
soon as his stiffened cock got anywhere near my pussy I warned him off,
and I told him that, unless he was very careful, he would pay for his
indiscretions in the morning.
That morning I lay awake from about 6 a.m. with John asleep in my arms,
and I had a good long think about what I was about to do. I seriously
considered letting the victim off the hook and cancelling the operation. I
certainly did not want to give him an uncomfortably tight, messy cut. After
all, his cock would soon belong to me and I did not want to make it
unusable or ugly. Then I remembered what Maggie had done to Jim. She
had asked me to preserve his foreskin in a jar of formaldehyde; it was now
on the dresser by her bedside, and she constantly used it to tease and
torment her husband. Well, there was enough of the dominatrix in me to
want to exercise that sort of authority over John. I was sexually stimulated
by the kinkiness of circumcision and I knew that, whatever its physiological
consequences, it would, from a psychological point of view, spice up our
sex life. So I decided to go for it.
At 7 a.m. I woke John up, and told him to take a shower. When he
returned, he got into bed with me, and I affectionately snuggled up to him
until it was 8 o’clock. By now I was filled with misgivings, and I was having
second thoughts. “Come on, love.” I whispered affectionately. “Strip off and
lie across the bed. Let’s get this over with.” Then, screwing my courage to
the sticking point, I did it. For the first (and, I am firmly resolved, the last)
time in my life I did not go for a tight, savage cut. I trimmed John by the
book and followed the instructions in the surgeon’s manual to the letter, so
that the victim emerged with his frenulum more or less intact, and a small
cuff of skin that, I surmised, should be just enough to pull over his
engorged corona when his cock was stiff and excited. I also carved that
cock as if it were a gift fit for the gods; my surgery was painstaking, neat
and precise. I could not, however, resist a few kinky verbals during and
after the surgery, especially when I clamped the stretched out foreskin
between two glass plates and plopped it into the large jar of formaldehyde.
I was really quite moved at the way that John submitted to his
circumcision. He did not like being cut, and he did not like being wound up
and teased about it by me. But he took it like a man, freely, cheerfully and
with no second thoughts or regrets. He referred to it as "paying the bride
price," adding gallantly that the bride was very lovely, and worth every
square millimetre of foreskin. Even in the few days after his operation,
when he was exquisitely raw, sore and tender, he took the pain and the
humiliation bravely, stoically, and without rancour, waiting patiently for me
to pronounce his wound well healed, and to tell him that he could claim his
prize.
Now, a brief digression, dear reader. By now, especially if you are male,
my narrative may well appal you. Who do I think I am, you may be asking,
to go around insouciantly mutilating and disfiguring my innocent and
unsuspecting victims? I bet you are itching for me to get my comeuppance,
are you not? Well, as you will now find out, I _did_ get what was coming to
me, and I got it in spades.
Several years earlier I had been holidaying with John and some other
friends in France. One day, John and I were shopping in a supermarket
when, in the section devoted to pets, he noticed that there were some
martinets for sale. I had never seen a martinet before, and I asked John to
explain about it. The martinet, John replied, is a small whip, popular in
France. It has a round wooden handle about 10.5 inches long. Securely
nailed around the end of this handle are about 12 leather thongs, each
roughly 13 inches long, half a centimetre broad and half a centimetre thick.
He added that the martinet had been invented in the eighteenth century by
a French general of that name who was employed at the French army's top
officer training camp at St. Cyr, the French equivalent of Sandhurst (UK)
and West Point (USA). According to John, General Martinet spent his
entire life developing an implement that was suitable for the corporal
punishment of young trainee officers. It was applied, said John, across their
bare buttocks. "Wow, oh wow!" he mused wistfully. "A pound to a pinch of
shit that the old chap was a homosexual. I bet he just loved to get nice
young men into his office. `Take down your trousers and bend over the
desk, you naughty boy.' Then crack, crack, crack! The dirty old pervert! I
bet he really enjoyed himself!"
Next, John carefully selected one of these martinets, inspected it, and
counted the twelve thongs. "What on earth would it be used for these
days?" I asked. "They have put it in the pet section as though it is for
whipping recalcitrant dogs and similar" answered John. "But I don't believe
for one moment that that is the main use." And he paused. "Go on then!" I
urged. "Well", said John, "I think that today most of these are used by
Frenchmen to smack their wives' bottoms." My first response to this answer
was to giggle saucily. But then I began to inspect the martinet more closely.
It was, I concluded, an inhumane and vicious little whip, and far too cruel to
use on animals, let alone on ladies. I imagined it whistling through the air
and landing across those ladies' bare bottoms. I could almost hear the loud
swish as the thongs cut through the atmosphere. Then there would be the
sharp crack, as so graphically described by John, when the whip hit home.
I imagined the lashing thongs cutting into unprotected skin and raising livid
red stripes and angry weals on the bare flesh. Soon my initial amusement
had turned into disbelief, horror and outrage.
John then went on to hypothesise about why French husbands should
impose such strict discipline on their wives. He explained that French ladies
were very beautiful and very sexy. They could also be very randy, he
added. Wifely adultery and infidelity were a constant threat for many
Frenchmen and, when they _were_ cuckolded, they feared the public
ridicule almost as much as the loss of their wife's affections. They thus
needed something to keep these lively and vivacious ladies in line, and for
this purpose the martinet was the preferred implement. The hope,
frequently frustrated, was that married ladies would be in sufficient awe of
its lashing thongs across their bare bottoms that they would not run amok
and bed too many lovers.
This was the first indication that I had ever had that John was turned on
by spanking and flagellation. He was clearly indulging in a sexual fantasy,
and at first I took his interpretation with a pinch of salt. However, having
observed many of these French ladies on the beach sporting the most
daring and provocative swimwear I was at length forced to concur that his
analysis sounded reasonable. Any gentleman lucky enough to marry one
on those beauties, I affirmed jocularly, had come into the possession of a
very valuable and desirable piece of real estate, and it was understandable
that he should wish to defend his property rights over it and to discourage
unauthorised trespassers. However, I protested vehemently that in this day
and age it was well out of order for a man to whip his wife's bare bottom
with such a cruel and barbaric implement. John, however, was clearly
turned on by the thought. He grinned lasciviously and quietly dropped the
martinet he had been inspecting into our shopping trolley. "You never
know", he concluded slyly. "Someday I may marry a French lady, and, if I
ever do, I may need it."
Anyway, let me return to my main narrative. It took John’s cock more than
eight weeks before it had healed up and was fucking good again. Then,
one day when I inspected it, it seemed to be fully mended. “O.K.” I said, “I’ll
be at your place at 8 a.m. sharp on Saturday morning for a final official
inspection, and, with luck, a complete health clearance.”
When I arrived I let myself in. (John had given me a key to his house
shortly after I had agreed to marry him. He had tried unsuccessfully to do
this before, but this time I accepted it.) I discovered my fiancé asleep and in
bed. I woke him gently and when he was fully _compos mentis_ I asked
him to strip off and present himself for inspection. “Yes,” I said. “This cock
is now fully healed and I pronounce it ready for use.” Then I paused. “There
is one thing, though.” And something in the tone of my voice made John
(as I had intended) uneasy. “What’s up,” he asked in a concerned voice.
“Well,” I said pertly. “Now that I have seen your circumcised cock I don’t
think that I like it.” I paused. “No,” I said insouciantly, “I’m afraid that the
wedding is off.” There was then a pregnant pause while this sunk in.
Then came John’s first reaction. To my deep mortification and chagrin, he
began to sob helplessly, like a small child that had fallen over and hurt
itself. “You mean,” he wept fiercely, “That it was all a joke? A jape? To
circumcise me and then to just walk away after you had had the kinky
pleasure of cutting me? And now you will laugh at me and mock me about
it for the duration? Oh, Jill, you know how much I love you. That is cruel,
that is so cruel.” If John had been looking at me he might have grasped the
truth and not gone off at half cock; but instead he completely bought the
line that I was selling him. He collapsed, face down, onto the bed and
blubbered helplessly in resentment and frustration.
Well, that did it. I am a kinky bitch I admit, and I fancied a bit of the
dominatrix in our relationship; but I am not that kinky, and my lover’s
outburst moved me deeply. I grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him
up into a sitting position. Then I threw my arms around him and comforted
him. “It’s all right, love. It’s all right. Come on. Don’t cry. Do you know what
day it is?” “No.” sobbed John helplessly. “It’s the 1st of the 4th,” I said.
“Gotcha! You, young man, are an _April fool_!” But there was no triumph in
my voice. Just a tone that indicated that I wanted to make everything all
right again, and that I deeply regretted my misplaced joke.
Soon, however, I was to regret it a lot more than that. In all the years that I
had known John up to that moment I had never, ever, seen him lose his
temper. He did now, though, and big time. The revelation of my merry little
jape nonplussed him, but only for about 2 seconds. Then he gave an
enormous howl of relief, frustration, and, most of all, blind rage. He
stretched and reached down onto the floor between the bed and the wall
and picked something up from underneath the table where he kept his
Teasmade. Then he sat on the side of the bed, grabbed me by the arm,
and tossed me across his knee. As for me, at first I was shocked but
pleased. I had been trying to goad John into anger for years, and it looked
like at last I had succeeded.
“You scheming temptress,” he yelled. “For years you have been acting the
bitch and keeping me at arms’ length. You have been shagging around
with other men, and treating me with contempt. And I have been stupid
enough to play your little power games. But no more, this is the end of it.
Now it’s payback time. As far as I am concerned, you can fuck off. You can
stuff your fucking wedding up your arsehole.” Then up came my skirt, down
came my knickers, and before I had time to work it all out, there was a
swish, followed by a loud, sharp crack.
Then I felt it, a sharp and excruciating sting right slap across the middle of
my two bared buttocks. It was as if a solid phalanx of bees had hit them
and were now all stinging the naked flesh in unison. Then, after a few
seconds a fierce tingling and throbbing supplemented the initial sharp
stinging. “Oh, no!” I thought to myself. “That was the martinet that John
picked up from the floor; and I bet that by the time he has finished I will be
all too well acquainted with it.” Then, a few seconds later, there came a
second loud swish and crack. “Aaaagh!” I yelled helplessly. This second
fierce lash was laid directly onto the same part of my bum that had taken
the first one, and it hurt like hell. I screamed and howled plenty, but I was of
slight build, a mere 5’ 3” tall, and I was no physical match for John. He held
me firmly over his knee as he counted out the lashes. “Two,” he declared
after the second swipe had hit home.
And so it went on. John gave me twenty lashes, each just as fierce as the
one before it, with a pause between each one to give me plenty of time to
feel it. After the first dozen he had broken me; I was sobbing helplessly and
screaming for forgiveness, pity, and mercy. But I did not get it. Instead,
John continued his merciless trip hammering with the 12-thonged martinet.
Then John lifted me roughly and threw me the other way over his knees.
Then he took a brief time out to explain his game plan.
Now I am not myself Jewish, but my mother’s father was, and John now
used this fact to determine my punishment. In honour of my granddad, he
told me, he was giving me a flogging that accorded with Hebrew Old
Testament Law and with the Pentateuch, namely 39 lashes. Then he
passed the whip into his left hand and gave me lash number 21.
Now, dear reader, for every single one of those first 20 lashes, the
martinet had fairly whistled through the air, and had struck home with a
series of sharp, high-pitched cracks. The sting was terrific, especially from
the fast flying ends of the thongs. My right buttock had taken these stinging
ends of the thongs for those first 20 lashes, and it hurt like hell. Then, when
John turned me around, for the next 19 swats my left buttock caught the
brunt of the stinging. Worse still, although these latter hits were inflicted
with the left hand, John seemed to be ambidextrous, and his left arm came
down with just as much punitive force as his right one.
By now I was completely out of control. My arms and legs were flailing
about helplessly, and I was howling and sobbing plenty. “Please, please,
no more!” I shrieked helplessly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do that
again, I promise. Please, please stop!”
But, for the last dozen lashes or so, I began to be overtaken by another
wave of emotion. To my distinct surprise, my crotch began to throb and my
pussy started to tingle. I felt the heat between my legs as my bottom
started to ride up and down in unison with the slashes, rising in eager
anticipation of the cruel but arousing kiss of the whip. For the last 6 cuts I
was no longer begging for mercy; I was groaning ecstatically. By now my
pussy was dripping wet and the sticky liquid was dribbling down onto
John’s naked thighs. Meanwhile, as lust started to take over from pain I
became aware of John’s hard, erect manhood pressing into my crotch.
The final slap, number 39, was a beauty. It cracked onto skin that by then
was red, raw and broken, with tiny drops of blood oozing from the
lacerations. “Aaaagh!” I yelled, far louder than any of my previous cries,
and in that yell was unbearable pain and exquisite pleasure mixed together
into a heady concoction that left me hovering right on the brink of orgasm.
Then it was over and John threw me roughly onto the bed. By now I was
completely out of control. I pulled off my shoes and ripped my clothes from
my body so that I was completely naked. Then I jumped on John, hugging
and kissing him passionately. Then I grabbed his stiff, circumcised cock
and rammed it unceremoniously into my dripping wet pussy slot.
Immediately, both John and I erupted into a violent and explosive mutual
orgasm. Then John, still very excited, just kept on pumping. Within the next
15 minutes John had climaxed again, and I had come another 3 times.
Later that morning, John and I were relaxing together in his bed. He had
turned on the Teasmade and brewed some oolong tea. I left off sipping it,
however, to go over to the wardrobe mirror to inspect my bottom. It was
covered in ugly weals, bruises and lacerations that would probably take at
least 2 or 3 weeks to go away. “Oh, wow, love!” exclaimed John
sympathetically, as I ruefully examined the damage, “What have I done to
you?” “Well you’ve well striped my arse for me,” I said admiringly. “But not
to worry. You were right. I’ve been a kinky bitch to you for years. I was well
out of order to sleep around and to torment you with my lovers. And I was
well wrong to insist on circumcising you. You had done nothing to deserve
it. And the April fool joke, what was _that_ about? Definitely out of order!
Well, now I’ve got my comeuppance. You have taught me a painful lesson.
You are a man, not a mouse, and now that I belong to you I had better
treat you better.” As I made this profession, it suddenly hit me, the
blindingly obvious truth that I should have known all along. For years I had
been deliberately treating John as if he were dog shit in an attempt (until
now vain) to goad him into a reaction. Well, I had had to sink pretty low to
get it, but now his reaction had come. John had balls after all, even if, as of
now, he had no foreskin. Oh, yes! I would continue to tease John about his
circumcision, and I would try it on to boss him around and keep him under
my thumb. But in future I had better beware. There were limits that I would
cross at my peril. Yes, I thought, now that we had got that out of the way,
my marriage to John might turn out to be very interesting!
This, however, was all for the future. At that moment I had far more
pressing and urgent problems to attend to. I slept on my tummy that night,
wincing and cursing, with my bottom bare to the air. Meanwhile, John, now
once more the considerate lover, sympathetically rubbed plenty of soothing
camomile lotion into my cuts and lacerations. Four times that night,
however, I had something else rubbed into me. John’s circumcised cock
took me twice from behind, and twice from the front. Concerning these last
two bonks there was good news and bad news. The good news was that
John took me in the missionary position, woman on top variation to ease
the pain in my rump. The bad news is that, as I approached orgasm he
started to give me sharp, wicked little flicks from the martinet, synchronised
with the thrusts of his pelvis and cock shaft. OK! So it brought me off. But
on flesh already freshly whipped the thongs of that martinet stung like hell,
and my bottom felt like it was on fire!
That summer John and I were married, and I thus became Mrs. Jillian
Philpott. Since then, John and I have had 4 children, 2 girls and 2
(uncircumcised) boys, and we are hoping for more. I still keep John’s
severed foreskin in a jar on my side of the bed, and I constantly tease him
about it. Usually he takes it in good part; he realises that circumcision is my
kink, and he still loves me. If I go too far, however, I am likely to end up
across his knee, although now the preferred implements of chastisement
are the flat of his hand and/or a thin, floppy rubber spatula purchased from
an Internet sex shop. (Ouch, that spatula stings like hell! But on the other
hand, a few sharp slaps from it across the plump buttock meat adjacent to
the cunt slot as I am approaching orgasm is guaranteed to push me over
the edge!) John has, of course, carefully retained his martinet, but he tells
me that I will only ever get it again if I am _very_ naughty. Oh well! Some
day, when I can work up the bottle for it, I must contrive to be a really bad
girl again!
As for my attitude to circumcision, it is still the same. I still circumcise
every man I can as tightly as I can, despite John’s protestations that I am a
cruel, kinky bitch, and despite the swats from the spatula that I get if I am
too boastful. I am sorry, I tell him, but I cannot help myself.
For me, circumcision is a delightful sport, and it has all sorts of interesting
little aspects to explore. I do not think I will ever exhaust its never-ending
charm. Let me give you a couple of examples of what I mean. John, as I
say, has more or less accepted his cut state. Indeed, he even makes rueful
jokes about it. And, I can affirm, it has _not_ affected his ability to do the
necessary to me in bed. Indeed, my husband has made up a number of
little verses about this. Here is one of them entitled "John's Circumcised
Cock", which he sometimes regales me with in moments of intimacy:
"Gnarled and pitted, chopped and scarred,
But up your cunt and fuck you hard."
Now, dear reader, as I have explained above, one of the effects of
circumcision-- infuriating to those who have taken it and sexy and amusing
to those who have not-- is that it pulls and stretches the skin taut along the
length of the erect penis. It thereby, to paraphrase the poet T.S. Eliot
apropos of something else, "tightens its lusts and luxuries." Stemming from
this, one of my favourite tricks is to strip John naked and to get him to
stand with his legs slightly apart. I then kneel down in front of him. With my
right hand I grasp his cock. I place my thumb underneath the shaft, just
below the point where the circumcision scar cuts across it. My forefinger
and my middle finger I place on the upper side of the shaft, again just
below the scar. Then I tickle and scratch John's balls with the fingers and,
in particular, with the fingernails, of my left hand, while tugging at his cock
with my right. Soon John's cock is rock hard and ready for the punch line.
For this, I stop tickling John's scrotum. I remove my left hand and let his
bollocks hang free. Then, firmly and rhythmically, I start to tug John's shaft
skin forward, up and down the shaft, wanking him off. As I am kneeling with
my eyes a couple of inches from his crotch I get an excellent view of what
is happening. Two things I find particularly sexy. Firstly, no matter how hard
I tug John's shaft skin up and down his cock (and I am pretty firm with
him!), it never comes anywhere near to covering his cock head. The glans,
now that the foreskin has been snipped off it, remains exposed throughout.
It has no hiding place to conceal its embarrassing nakedness. Secondly, as
I yank John's shaft skin forward, it pulls after it the skin of the scrotum from
the point where this is joined to the base of the cock. The result is that my
saucy tugs cause my lover's balls to dance a merry and vigorous jig. Yes, if
I do it right I can really make his bollocks fly!
John finds being circumcised very embarrassing. I found this out when,
just after we got married, we went on holiday to the south Atlantic coast of
France.
On that coast there are a lot of nude beaches, usually just beyond the
family beaches away from the access roads. Knowing that John is a great
admirer of feminine nubility I suggested to him that we might pay one of
these beaches a visit. To my surprise, however, he did not seem too keen
on the idea. "Come on," I said encouragingly. "You have taken your
circumcision; you have paid the sex tax. I won't mind if you lust after a few
naked young ladies. I'll just give willie a few rough disciplinary tweaks
around his circumcision scar when I get him into bed tonight." Well, after a
little cajoling of this sort I could see that John was stimulated by my plan.
He eventually agreed to go along with it, but I could see that he still had
misgivings.
When we arrived at the beach it was full of beautiful young people, and a
few older punters. For some reason a lot more young ladies than young
men were besporting themselves, and every single one of them was butt
naked. There were, among others, petite, dark French girls, well-built
English belles and, John's favourites, tall, strapping, buxom blonde
beauties from Germany and Scandinavia. There was a group of three
particularly fetching German Rhine maidens just in front of us, all standing
up with their pneumatic boobs, big bums, long, meaty thighs and blonde
haired pussies perfectly positioned for close and meticulous scrutiny. I
could see that John was stunned. "Careful, big boy" I warned saucily.
"Three pussies admired already. That's three snakebite twists around his
scar that stiff willie has earned for himself so far. Just you wait until to-
night!" John grinned lasciviously. "Wow! Oh wow!" he said lecherously. "I'll
take them right on the scar tissue, and as hard as you like. Those lovelies
are well worth it!"
John was rather less enthusiastic, however, when I removed my bikini top,
pertly pulled off my pants and exposed my naked charms to the admiring
gaze of other males. "Well! Come on then!" I cajoled, pointing at John's
swimming trunks. "Get 'em off!" At this point my spouse began to look
uncomfortable, but eventually he removed his swimming trunks and stood
there naked.
Now that was when it got interesting. Circumcision, I have now learnt, is
quite rare in Germany and Scandinavia, and John was the only
circumcised man on the beach. I watched the reactions, and I could tell that
his cut cock was exciting considerable interest, discreet but definite. The
Rhine maidens grinned, giggled and whispered things to each other. I
caught some comment that I was just about able to translate with the help
of my GCSE German. It was to the effect that the man in front of them
must be an American. Meanwhile, similar interest was generated in a
young French couple lying in front of us as they looked back up the beach.
The problem was that all this did not go on for long, because although John
was embarrassed he was also turned on. His circumcised cock began to
grow to tumescence, and he was forced to lie on his front to hide its
embarrassing state from its interested spectators.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
EPILOGUE
In conclusion, dear reader, pray allow me to return to the topic of my best
friend, Maggie Phillips. Where, you might ask, did her brilliant and
appropriate idea to have her husband circumcised for his adultery come
from? (See ASSTR 08.) Well, I can tell you the answer to that one. Maggie
has a brother, Billie, who is 5 years older than her. Just before his
seventeenth birthday Billie suffered a bad attack of phimosis. As a result he
was the unwilling victim of a circumcision; and ever since he has protested
loudly and vigorously about his mutilation. One must presume that, before
he was rudely cut short, Billie, like almost all male teenagers, had been
enjoying a series of illicit but deliciously pleasurable sexual encounters with
Mrs. Hand and her five beautiful daughters. How he must have enjoyed
pulling his long, sensitive inner foreskin up and over his deliciously tender
and delicate purple cock head! But alas! After the short, sharp, sudden
shock of an embarrassing and painful operation, Billie’s foreskin was no
longer there and his cock head soon calloused over into a thick, rubbery
bell-end. Unlike men who have been circumcised neonatally, Billie knew
just exactly what it was that he was missing. He did not like it one little bit,
and, to Maggie’s considerable amusement, he howled plenty! Is it any
wonder, therefore, that, having seen its effect upon her outraged brother, a
shrewd, saucy and intelligent girl like Maggie should decide to enforce
circumcision upon her adulterous spouse? Wow! What a comeuppance!
Wallop! Bull’s eye!
But that is not the end of the anecdote. When he was 25 Billie got
involved with a girl who was ten years younger than him. Even worse, he
got her pregnant. Well, from Billie’s point of view, all turned out well. He
married his young lover, Jasmine, soon after her sixteenth birthday. Then,
a few months later, Jasmine had her first child. In the next few years
Jasmine bore Billie a total of four children, three girls and a boy. Jasmine
and the children were well looked after. By the time he was into his mid-
twenties Billie had finished at university and had a good and well-paid job.
But Jasmine paid a price for her security and her material comforts. She is
a beautiful and intelligent girl of South Asian ethnic origin. She was enrolled
at the same top girls grammar school that Maggie and I went to, and she
was hoping to go on to medical school. However, the antics of Billie’s
overactive cock rudely cut short Jasmine’s education and her medical
career, and for this I hated him and it. In my view, Billie should have been
prosecuted for seducing an underage girl who was a decade his junior.
The worst of that little incident is now over. On the positive side Billie and
Jasmine are still, 8 years after their initial bonk, besotted with each other.
Britain needs doctors, and these days the medical schools encourage
mature applicants. I am hoping that Jasmine will allow me to guide and
advise her, and that she will one day resume her studies. With two
supportive grannies to help look after the kids, I am keeping my fingers
crossed that, by her mid-thirties, Jasmine will have made it into medicine.
That is not to say, however, that I personally had forgiven Billie for taking
advantage of Jasmine while she was a beautiful, naïve, and under-aged
virgin. Billie’s cock had already been circumcised once, but I could think of
a few more things that I would have liked to have done to it to pay it back
for its selfishness, and its irresponsible indulgence in illicit, sybaritic
pleasures. “Give me my trusty knife,” I would fantasize to myself, “And
bring me Billie’s cock; I will give it something that it will wish that it had not
taken!” And then, amazingly, I got my chance to do just that. Let me explain
to you how this came about.
Maggie, Jasmine, our three husbands and I maintain a close social life,
and we frequently dine together. At a dinner party a short time ago the
discussion got around to circumcision, of which all three of the men folk are
now victims. As he has done before, Billie complained vigorously that his
circumcision should never have been inflicted, and, even if it was, it should
not have been so messy or so severe. Well, jokingly, I offered to inspect it
for him and give him my professional opinion. At first, everyone, including
me, thought that I was joking. But then Jasmine piped up. “You know, Billie,
that really is a good idea. Everything seems fine to me, but you have got a
real hang-up about it. Why don’t you let Jill put your mind at rest once and
for all?”
Anyway, at that point we let the matter drop from our conversation. A few
days later, however, I got a phone call from Jasmine. Had I meant what I
had said at the dinner party last Saturday night? The upshot was that a few
days later Billie called around to my surgery for a willie assessment. I
asked him to strip from the waist down, and to stand upon a table that
presented his cock to me at eye level. Then I started to inspect it. I held the
shaft between my thumb and forefinger, just below the annular scar. Then I
inspected the scar. It was, indeed, a messy job. The circumcising surgeon
had paid little heed or consideration to cosmetic questions. “Hum,” I
remarked. “The wound has healed up all ugly and pockmarked. And look.
Here. There is a large stitch tunnel cutting under the scar on the underside
of the shaft.”
Meanwhile, something was happening that fascinated me, but that also
made me very angry. Billie’s cock started to go hard and engorged in my
hand! I took this as a sign that he was inappropriately stimulated that a
young lady 5 years his junior was embracing his manhood. Soon the
offending weapon was as stiff as a poker. I looked upwards, straight into
Billie’s eyes, and, to be fair to him, he was not leering at me in a predatory
fashion. No, he looked very, very ashamed and extremely embarrassed at
what his willie was up to. So, while pretending to get on with my impassive
and impartial analysis of the weapon in question, I decided to do a little
prick teasing, and to have a bit of fun with Billie. I gently tugged Billie’s shaft
skin towards his cockhead. “Yes,” I commented. “You circumcision is rather
slack. See. A little flap of foreskin has been left here, and if I tug hard I can
just pull it over the rim of your glans.” As I did this, I watched Billie’s face
closely. He winced with pleasure and embarrassment, but I could detect no
sign of inappropriate interest in me, or that he was regarding me as
anything other than a professional surgeon. Then I gently scratched
underneath Billie’s cock shaft, just above the stitch tunnel on his
circumcision scar. In response, I felt Billie’s cock stiffen still further, and I
heard a helpless, ecstatic groan. “What do you feel,” I asked. “Not as much
as I used to,” sighed my victim ruefully. “Yes, I remarked. “There is no
vestige of frenulum underneath the penile shaft, at the point where it joins
the base of the glans. That has been completely excavated by the surgery.
So, on the plus side you have a small flap of foreskin, but on the minus
side you have an ugly scar with stitch tunnel and skin flap, and no
frenulum. But count yourself lucky, young man. In many cases that I
inspect both foreskin and frenulum have been completely cut off. Anyway,
the good news is that, if you want me to, I could tidy you up down there. On
the plus side, I can remove your skin flap and the ugly scar caused by
careless surgery. On the minus side, if I do that, it will mean removing a
little more of your vestigial foreskin.
Well, that was the end of our consultation. I told Billie to get dressed and,
to save him from further embarrassment, I left the room. I heard nothing
from Billie or Jasmine for several weeks, and I assumed that the matter
was now closed. Then, to my amazement, I had a phone call from
Jasmine. Did I mean what I said, she asked, about tidying up Billie’s cock?
Wow! As soon as I clocked the question the blood rushed to my cheeks
and my heart started to pound fiercely against my ribcage. “Of course,” I
said, doing my best to sound calm, professional and matter of fact.
The rest, as they say, is history. Billie and Jasmine were worried about the
cost of the surgery, and whether they could get it on the National Health.
But I generously (!) offered to do it for nothing for my best friend’s brother.
And do it I did. In fact, I had not been completely honest with Billie. His
frenulum had not been completely excised. There was a small patch of it
left, until I got to work on it, anyway. Like there was a small patch of surplus
shaft skin, before I took to it my trusty knife. Oh, yes! I made Billie pay all
right for what he had done to Jasmine. Off came his vestigial frenulum, and
off came his small cuff of surplus shaft skin. I chopped very tight and the
flesh on his stiffened shaft is now pulled as tight as a drum skin. And then,
an added bonus, I advised Billie to avoid nooky with his beautiful wife for
more than 2 months. Not that he was in a position to ignore my counsel.
For the 7 or 8 weeks after his little operation he was far too shocked, sore
and traumatised to get up to anything approaching serious hanky-panky.
But the appalling thing is that, now his cock is bonking good again, Billie is
actually grateful for what I did to him. You see, my surgery was, indeed,
skilful; the stitching could have won a Women’s Institute embroidery
contest. Cosmetically, therefore, what is left of Billie’s cock looks a snip (so
to speak!). It is very neat and tidy, and, for this, Billie is effusive in his
thanks.
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