I've always been athletic, tough, aggressive, masculine, and queer as a $3.00 bill. I've known since I was 13 that I am queer, but nobody else knows about it unless I want him to.

I've always preferred rough body-contact sports: football, soccer, rugby, lacrosse, and hockey. If I say so, myself, I'm good at all of them. My only problem in any of these sports is getting penalized for unnecessary roughness. In other words, I don't fit the limp-wristed homosexual stereotype.

By the time I was 17, my folks were starting to get on my case about dating, finding a nice girl, getting married, and raising a family. My old man kept emphasizing that, because I'm an only child, it's my responsibility to carry on our family name and blood line.

Oh come on, now ! There are enough Wheelers in the world that, if one twig on our family tree dies off, nobody is going to notice it. I said that I wasn't ready to settle down yet and that I was more interested in sports than in dating.

I got a football scholarship to Marquis University where I majored in business administration, as all the jocks did . Unlike a lot of them, I really liked the subject and actually studied it. I was a good enough running back that it was likely that I'd get drafted by one of the professional teams in my sophmore or junior year.

For us, the annual football classic was the Thanksgiving Day game against Hayward University. It's a two-day 'bus ride to Hayward in Oxbridge from Marquis, and that year, the Thanksgiving game was an away game.

Tuesday morning, when I was packing for the trip, I decided that my cup jock was

too dirty to wear in the game and , after removing the cup and laying it on my dresser, I hastily washed and dried the jockstrap in the laundry room. I brought it up to my room and packed it in my duffle bag.

It was not until I was suiting up for the game on Thursday morning that I realized that I had left the cup on my dresser, 700 miles away . I wasn't too upset about it though. After all, I'd been playing football in Little League, junior high intramural, high school, and college for a total of ten years and had never got hit "down there".

The odds seemed very good that my luck would hold.

In the second quarter, I saw a chance to block a kick, and I took it. I came flying at the kicker so that my body was actually horizontal. I rattled him so that he missed the football. Unfortunately, he didn't miss my balls . His kick caught me right in the nuts and there was nothing but cloth between his boot and my family jewels.

That kick didn't just crush my nuts, it exploded them. They were instantly completely destroyed, and the follow-through almost tore my dick out. The destruction of my balls chopped down my family tree. The last sperms that could have begotten another generation of the Wheeler family squirted futilely into my cupless jockstrap.

Remember, if you can, the worst, most intense pain you have ever felt. Now multiply that by at least ten. Words like agonizing, excruciating, and devastating all come to mind. All of them are puny and paltry compared to THAT pain. and it's a pain that only males can feel, and then, only once.

I've heard girls say that getting hit in a boob causes intense, sickening debilitating pain. However, I've never heard of a woman's dropping dead from shock as a result of getting a breast smashed. But, there are cases of men dropping dead from shock from a blow to the balls that didn't even rupture them.

This is pain that KILLS. Strong, tough, rugged men have died from it. The pain doesn't stay confined to the balls. It would be bad enough if it did, but it immediately shoots up into the belly, down into the thighs, back to the asshole and then spreads out more slowly.

To me, it felt like my whole body from my breastbone to my knees had been crushed, like under a block of granite or something. In less than a minute, I don't think there was anything in my body that didn't HURT. There wasn't a nerve that was carrying any other message than PAIN.

I couldn't see the stadium; I couldn't hear the crowd; there was nothing in my world but P-A-I-N !!! I know I was screaming. I'm pretty sure I was holding what used to be my balls with both hands. My friends told me that I was rolling around on the ground and puking, but I wasn't aware of that, just the unbearable pain.

I could feel myself slipping away and my last thought as I did was "Awwwww,

shit ! I've hardly even begun to live......... and now I'm dying."

My first words when I woke up in the hospital were "Holy Shit ! I'm alive. " I heard a woman laughing so hard she was gasping for breath. I opened my eyes and saw that she was a nurse.

"Well, this is the first time I've ever heard anybody say THAT when he came out of a coma."

"Hey, I thought I was dying. Wouldn't you be surprised to find yourself alive ?"

"Well, in that case, you're excused. How do you feel ?"

"If I'd expected to survive, I'd have expected to feel a lot worse than I do."

"I'll get the doctor. Maybe he can make some sense out of that."

I considered my situation. I was flat on my back in a hospital bed. I had an oxygen tube in my nose and I could feel the oxygen flowing out of it. There was a good deal of pain in my dick but none in my balls. Well, of course ! My balls didn't ache because I didn't have any balls. Otherwise, I didn't feel at all bad.

When I looked at the window, I realized that I must have been unconscious for several hours because it was dark outside. I wasn't even sure if this was still Thursday. If there was a clock in the room, I couldn't see it and I wasn't wearing my wristwatch.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. HEY, I can't have any kids. I won't have to get married ! If I'm impotent, that won't make much difference either. All I've ever used my dick for is to jerk off and I'd read that masturbation doesn't require a boner.I've always been a bottom. I don't even need a dick. My problem with my folks is solved.

I was still chuckling about that when Dr. Silverstone came in. "Well, you're in a good mood." he commented.

"Hey, why not ? I'm ALIVE . Out on the field, I thought I was dying and here I am alive and not feeling anywhere near as bad as I might expect to considering what happened. "

"Well, that's a good positive attitude. I suppose you know that you've been badly hurt."

"Yeah. I'm sure I don't have testicles any more, so I can't have kids. But, if my penis still works, with help from hormones, I can enjoy sex. If not, I can still masturbate, can't I ?"

"That is the crux of the matter. The corpora cavernosa of the penis were badly torn at the base. You may have trouble getting an erection, which, you are right, is not essential for masturbation. It could, however, greatly interfere with marital sex. If you should be able to perform sexually and marry, there are thousands of children in need of adoptive parents . In a few weeks, your penis should be healed and will function as well as it's ever going to. So keep up that positive attitude"

Dr. Silverstone went out and the nurse came in and said here's a young man who wants to talk to you. His name is Truman Swenson ."

I didn't recognise the name, but I said "Send him in." I still didn't recognise him

when he spoke to me. "You blocked my kick. I just couldn't stop the follow-through fast enough. You got the full force of the kick. God, I'm so sorry about what happened to you."

I said "Don't be. It was all my fault. I wasn't wearing my cup. I left the damn' thing on top of a dresser in my room down at Marquis. I'd taken it out to wash my jock and forgot to put it back. " (I thought but didn't say "Anyhow, I'll never need it again.") So, I shook hands with Swenson and he didn't ask any embarrassing questions about my condition.

Mom and Dad were my next visitors and I told them, trying as hard as possible to sound sincere, that I hated to disappoint them, but I wouldn't be presenting them with any grandchildren. Dad didn't ask how come I wasn't wearing a cup.

Maybe he didn't even realize that I was supposed to.

After they left, I finally thought to ask the nurse "What time and day is this ?"

"It's 9:00 PM on Thursday. Happy what's left of Thanksgiving. Would you like some turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, squash, cider, and apple pie ?"

"YOU'D BETTER BELIEVE IT !" I yelled. So, I didn't miss Thanksgiving dinner after all. For hospital food, it was damn' good.

In the morning, coach Waddell visited me. I was dreading that confrontation because I knew he'd be furious that I hadn't worn a cup. I was surprised when he said, "I'm not going to add to your sorrows by getting on your back about not wearing a cup. I'm sure that anything I might call you, you've already called yourself. I suppose you just forgot to take it with you, right ?"

"Right. It's right on my dresser in my room in the Alpha Theta Lambda frat house, where I put it when I washed my jock. Anyhow, I won't need it any more, or even an athletic supporter. I don't have any -ahem- "athletics" to support.

I want you to know, coach, that this isn't going to stop me from playing football. I'll be right back there practising as soon as the doctor lets me. With hormone treatments, I'll be just as good a player as I ever was."

"That's the spirit ! I hope you won't be embarrassed when the other players see you in the showers and notice that you have no testicles."

"Naw. They all saw what happened to me out there. They must be able to guess what the effects were. Oh, by the way, who won ?"

"We did. It was a tough fight; Hayward's a formidable foe, but we made a last-ditch "Win one for the Gipper" effort. I really did tell them to 'Win it for Jeff Wheeler !' "

"All RIGHT ! Tell 'em I'll be back."

I was out of the hospital in five days and flew back to Marquis U., but I wasn't allowed to practise for another two weeks while my dick healed. Then I knew I was gonna be impotent for life. I've never had a real boner since I lost my balls. The hormones make me feel as masculine and horny as ever, but my dick doesn't work.

When I get hot, it swells up, but it doesn't get stiff.

The first time I showered after practise, some of the guys stared and some took a quick look and then looked away, kinda embarrassed. I didn't mind, though. I figured that if they knew I couldn't lead a normal sex life, they wouldn't be down on me if they found out that I was leading an abnormal one.

I'd always suspected that my roommate at Alpha Theta Lambda, Bill Johnson, might be either bi or gay. I never knew anybody else who whacked off as much as he did. He was at it every minute he had spare time and privacy. He made only a token effort to hide it from me, jackin' off into the wastebasket under the kneehole of his desk. I could hear him doing it in bed at night, too.

So, one evening when he was beating his meat with the covers off, I went over to his bed and said "I can offer you something better than that, Bill." Without waiting for him to answer, I bent over and went down on his boner. He took his hand off it and said softly "Oh, yeah, suck my big whang, buddy." Then he put his hands on the back of my head and bounced up and down on the bed, fucking my face. For a guy who whacked off so much, he sure shot a big wad. I gobbled it all down and shot in my briefs.

Bill gave a great sigh and fell asleep. I kissed him and went back to bed. When I woke up the next morning, Bill was standing by my bed with his morning woody standing out. I rolled over on my side and gave him head. After he blew his wad, Bill asked me if I needed relief. I told him I sure did. "Just because I can't get a boner doesn't mean I don't get hot." I told him. I slipped my briefs down and uncovered my big, bloated, rubbery dong .

Bill bent down and blew me and slurped down every drop of my sterile cum. I asked him if he was going to stop jacking off, but he shook his head. "I'm a sex addict. I need it all the time. Whenever you're not available to blow me, I've gotta jerk off. I do it in the john between classes. I whack off in the study carrel in the library and under the table in the dining hall . I do it in the shower and I'm sure you've seen me beating my meat in the kneehole under my desk in here. "

I asked him, "Do you like blow jobs better ?"

"You'd better believe it !" he answered enthusiastically.

"OK, then, don't do it under the table at breakfast and, as soon as we get back here, I'll blow you. "

To my surprise, he said "I don't think I can wait that long. I'll whack off under the table and THEN you can blow me when we get back here."

I stared at him in amazement. "You mean to tell me you can build up another load that soon ?"

"Yep. I can jerk off three times in a row, non-stop."

"Holy shit ! You're a walkin' talkin' gism factory." I kissed him and groped him. Yep, he had a boner alright, tucked up under his T-shirt. "Let's go to breakfast before you cum all over your T-shirt."

Well, it worked out that I was blowing Bill six times a day and he was jacking off "only" 8 times a day. Except on Sundays, when I blew him about a dozen times. I also found a guy on the football team who was bi.

Ron Wilson got a boner in the shower room one day and I stared at it and licked my lips. Ron noticed it and winked at me. When we left the shower room, he motioned with his head for me to follow him. We were alone in the locker room and he led me behind the lockers. To my surprise, he took me in his arms and kissed me.

He's one helluva great kisser. Then he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down into a squatting position.

Ron has a very thick 8" dick, a little longer and much thicker than Bill's. I went down on it and wrapping my lips over my teeth, I gave him head. Ron made it last as long as possible, pulling back when he was close to cumming until he finally said

"I'm getting lover's nuts, so here......I.......CUM !" Holy shit ! It was like a fuckin' fire hose. I couldn't get it all down. Some of his gism came out of my nose and more of it came out between my lips and his mighty prong. I swallowed all I could, though.

Ron thanked me for not spitting it all out. I told him that , as I see it, spitting a guy's cum out is insulting. I'd never do that. Ron kissed me again and we agreed to meet after each football practise and, if possible, after games.

So, it worked out so that I not only didn't I have to worry about being nagged into getting married, but I was getting more sex than I ever had when I had balls.