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My parents are religious fanatics, members of an obscure fundamentalist sect which I call the Benighted Brethren. Though nominally Christian, they place much more emphasis upon the Old Testament than the New. None of this turn the other cheek and blessed are the meek stuff for them. It's "Smite them, Oh, Lord. Smite them hip and thigh." When I was a little boy, I swallowed their line of horseshit, as the cliché goes, "hook, line, and sinker" .As soon as I learned to read, I was given a Bible, and, later, at my request, Cruden's Concordance. I have an inquiring mind and, even as a boy, I began to notice glaring inconsistencies and preposterous assertions in the Bible. I asked annoying and embarrassing questions in Sunday School, such as "If Cain and Abel were the only children of Adam and Eve, who were the only other human beings, where did they find wives ?" or "Why did Jehovah harden Pharaoh's heart against the Israelites who were His chosen people ?" or, worst yet, "What was the sin for which Jehovah destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah ?" Brother Claymore, our Sunday School teacher had two stock answers to such questions , "If God had wanted us to know that, he would have told us." and "We have no right to question the will of God. God does not need to justify his actions to men." Still, my questions were disturbing. I was too intelligent (I have, for whatever it's worth, an IQ of 170.) and too curious for Brother Claymore's liking. So, I sought my own answers. I studied the Bible intensively and gradually came to the conclusion that the Old Testament is a book of Jewish fairy tales, not history, and NOT to be taken seriously, nor, to be used as a guide to moral conduct. There are some very bad moral lessons in the Bible. For eample, if you want God's blessing, cheat your brother out of his inheritance by deceiving your blind father !( Jacob and Isaac) . If you want your daughter to be set for life, manoeuvre her into a compromising position with a rich old man and then blow the whistle. (Ruth and Naomi) My parents taught me nothing about the "facts of life". Whatever I learned about them, I picked up in the street, about 60% of it misinformation, of course.I learned about masturbation, tried it at 12, and enjoyed it. When my father suspected that I was doing it, he told me to read the story of Onan, as playing with my "thing" was the sin for which Jehovah had destroyed Onan. I read it carefully, actually for about the fourth time, and wondered "What on Earth is he talking about ? I don't have a sister-in-law and God hasn't commanded me to beget children upon her." Surely, he doesn't think that Onan jerked off. Onan spilled his seed on the ground because he withdrew his prick from his sister-in-law's cunt just before he came so as not to give her a kid.. But, Jehovah had commanded him to give her kids. Therefore, Jehovah punished him for disobedience. I couldn't see that it had anything to do with masturbation. With the aid of Cruden's Concordance, I combed the Bible, both Old Testament and New, seeking any reference to masturbation. Unable to find any, I came to the conclusion that it is not a sin and God isn't interested in it. I wondered about the sin of Sodom also, which Brother Claymore had brushed aside, and couldn't figure our what the Sodomites wanted to do with or to the angel. When I learned about cornholing from older boys, I was told that that was the sin of Sodom. It seemed to me that we know nothing about the anatomy of angels and we don't even know if they have assholes. When I was 14, my best friend was a boy named Stevie. We were jerk-off buddies and fooled around a lot, but never went as far as cocksucking or cornholing. Stevie wasn't a member of the Benighted Brethren, nominally an Episcopalian, he was, as were his parents, an agnostic. If my father had known that he would have forbidden me ever to see Stevie again or talk to him.In fact, it annoyed father that Stevie insisted on calling me Jerry. "His name is JEREMIAH !" shouted my old man when he heard Stevie call me Jerry. I had read the fulminations of that thundering OT prophet and didn't like being named for him. One hot day in late July, my mother walked into my room without knocking and caught Stevie and me on my bed, buck naked, kissing each other, and rubbing our cocks against each other's belly. She screamed and ran out. Stevie got dressed and ran home in a panic. I was pissed off as all hell. When my old man got home, the shit really hit the fan. As I was too big and strong at 14 for corporal punishment, and he is basically a coward anyhow, he confined himself to interminable verbal abuse. He called me a Sodomite and I denied it. I shouted "Damn it all, frottage is NOT sodomy; there's no penetration." He didn't even know what frottage is. I had to explain it to him, which I did in properly clinical language. He hauled me off to Brother Aaronson, our preacher, who gave me another dressing-down. I am more than his equal intellectually, and at least as well-versed in the Bible as he. I matched him quotation for quotation and disputed the applicability of most of them to the situation. He was getting apoplectic when I pointed out to him that the Bible doesn't tell us what the sin of Sodom was and that frottage is not "lying with a man as with a woman" because there is no penetration. He called me a queer and I agreed with him and then challenged him to find a single reference to homosexuality as such in the Bible. Instead he called me an obstinate self-willed boy, with which I agreed, and claimed that I must be possessed by a demon. I called that Mediæval nonsense and laughed in his face. He called in my old man and told him to take me to Dr. (Brother) Servus to see if I could be cured of my unnatural lust, and my father agreed to do that. An alarm bell should have gone off in my head, but didn't. For one thing, I couldn't believe that my father was capable of such dastardly deviousness as he was. The next day, My father told me that he was taking me to Brother Servus for an examination to find out what was wrong with me, and what might be done to cure me of my unnatural passion for members of my own sex. Dr. Servus had me strip down and bend over so that he could examine my asshole for the "Mark of Sodom" which he didn't find. I'd never taken it up the ass. Then he had me sit on the operating table while he examined my cock and balls. He walked around behind me and I smelled a sickeningly sweet unfamiliar odor. I had never had surgery and didn't recognise the odor of chloroform. Suddenly, he clapped a gauze pad soaked in the stuff over my mouth and nose. I struggled for a few seconds and then the lights went out. I awoke feeling sick and in pain and with a distinct feeling that something was terribly wrong. I was lying on my back on the operasting table. My bag stung and burned, and there was a sick ache in my groins and the pit of my belly. As I started to sit up, I noticed two oval things on an enamelled metal tray beside the operating table. I had a horrible suspicion that I knew what they were. I sat up and looked down at my crotch. My prick, now permanently limp, lay on my right thigh. My bag was flat, empty, and bandaged with two gauze pads held on with court plaster. "You fucking bastard !" I screamed. "You've castrated me." "Yes" replied Brother Servus smugly. "and, by so doing, I have saved your soul from eternal damnation." "You self-righteous son of a bitch !" I exclaimed. "Tut, tut Sticks and stones....." answered Brother Servus with a chuckle. "You don't know what's good for you, but we do." If I hadn't been so sick from the anæsthetic and so weak from surgical shock, I think I'd have killed him with my bare hands. All the way home, father lectured me from his vast fund of ignorance. I soon realized that he had cooked this up with Brother Servus (I'll never call that butcher Doctor, again.), at the behest of Brother Aaronson. Except to answer quesrtions, I have never spoken to my parents again. While I was resting in bed for a week from the operation, I resolved to leave home as soon as possible. I'd have to wait another week until Brother Servus removed the dressings for the last time and removed the stitches. Once that was done, I took a nice warm bath instead of the sponge baths I'd had to take for the past two weeks, and tried, unsuccessfully to jerk off. It felt good, even though the boner I got was soggy and flabby and I couldn't cum. For a week, I'd been packing underwear. clothes, and a few treasured possessions into my Boy Scout duffel bag. On Saturday morning, my folks went out to a church meeting of some time. They asked me if I wanted to go and I gave them a venomous glare and shook my head. That was the last time I ever saw my parents. As soon as they were out of sight, I hauled my duffel bag down to Route 24 and stuck my thumb out. Traffic was very light and very fast and I began to worry that I wouldn't get out of town before my folks got home and found me gone. In the distance, I saw a big, red, foreign sports car burning up the pavement at at least 100 mph. To my surprise, it slowed down and stopped alongside me. I recognized it as a Lancia from pictures in magazines, though I'd never seen one. The driver was a bare-chested, handsome, blond man in his early 20's. "Hop in" he called to me. I did and dumped my duffel bag behind the seat. "How far do you go ?" he asked, not "How far are you going ?" I recognized this as a come-on and said "All the way." He laughed and said "I hoped you'd say that." I glanced over at him and saw that his slacks were standing up at the crotch. "WOW", I exclaimed "You're sure well-hung." "You can get a closer look if you want to." I unbuttoned his fly and out sprang his long thin cock. It was even longer that it had appeared when restrained by his pants. I began stroking it and then took it into my mouth. The driver shouted "Cut that out ! I can't control a high-performance car like this with somebody blowing me." I mumbled "Sorry" and sat up again. He tucked it back into his pants and buttened up his fly again, remarking. "Just in case I get stopped for speeding, I don't want to get caught like Bill Tilden with my fly open and a teenaged boy on the seat beside me. I'm Eric Nyland, what's your name ?" I thought for a moment of using an assumed name, but decided that I'd probably forget it, if I did. "Jeremiah Michelson. I'm running away from home." "That's obvious, but why ?" "Because when my parents found out that I'm queer, they had me castrated." "MY GOD ! How barbaric. How did they find out ?" "That I'm queer ?" "Yes." "My mother caught me and my buddy indulging in frottage on my bed." "That's all ? It's a harmless act." "Not to the Benighted Brethren , as I call them. they're religious fanatics. I was castrated to 'save my soul' . I wish to hell that religions would stop meddling in people's sex lives." "Not a chance. Sex is one of the most powerful factors in a man's life. How better to control him than by regulating his sex life. ? And, that's what organized religion is all about : control and domination. Is frottage all you've ever done ?" "That and masturbation (which I know is NOT the sin of Onan). "Of course not, his sin was disobedience. Though Catholics and Mormons have a bug up their asses about masturbation, it's never mentioned in the Bible." "I know, I've combed the Bible looking for it." "Are you ready to try oral and anal sex ?" "Hell, I'm ready to try anything that a eunuch can do." "In the Near East, men have been fucking eunuchs for centuries and it appears that the eunuchs enjoy it. Certainly, Bagoas, the Persian eunuch, seems to have enjoyed taking it up the ass from Darius III of Persia and later from Alexander of Macedon." "Alexander the Great ?" "Great, horseshit ! Alexander was a crackpot and a petulant spoiled brat. All of his conquests accomplished nothing. His empire was much too large for any one man to rule. What happened to it after his death is the only thing that could happen to it. It was broken up into kingdoms. We'll be stopping for the night at a cabin in a motor lodge about 200 miles up the roadr and we'll have plenty of time for sex. We can try anything you want to. I'm not due in Des Moines for a week." "Are you an atheist, then ?" "No, I'm a deist. I believe in a Supreme Being, the primim mobile and the uncaused First Cause which having established the physical amd moral laws which govern the operation and evolution of the Universe, has pretty much left it to its own devices. I DON'T believe in a personal god which intervenes incessantly in the lives of individual human beings . We are not that important that the creator and maintainer of the Universe should waste its time meddling in our trivial activities. As to the nature of the Supreme Being, given what powers it needs to have and what scope it must have, it is both inconceivable and incomprehensible. It is damned presumptuous of any human being to imagine that, with his paltry intellect, he can form any valid concept of or pretend to understand a being as sublime and unimaginable as the Supreme Being. It is easy to say what it is not. It is NOT a white-bearded old man on a throne. It is NOT an irascible Middle Eastern despot. It may well be formless, both immanent and transcendent. It is as impossible to disprove the existence of 'God' as it is to prove it. Therefore, atheism is hoist by its own pétard. It is a faith, a faith in the non-existence of 'God' and, therefore, no more or less valid than any other faith. We discussed various other, less profound, matters until we reached the motor lodge, where, for purposes of the register, I became Mike Nyland, Eric's nephew. We had a good dinner at the restaurant across the highway where we had steak, baked potato, and asparagus. Then it was time to adjourn to our cabin, shower, and get down to serious sex. I squatted down in front of Eric and took his cock into my mouth. He advised me to wrap my lips over my teeth and use my tongue to stimulate the glans by licking the underside and around the corona, rather than just suck. After a few minutes, Eric began to moan and put his hands around the back of my head, holding my head as he fucked my mouth. Suddenly, his cock became harder, hotter, and thicker and I knew that he was about to cum. He backed off and let his load of thick lumpy jism be discharged directly onto my tongue. I wasn't wild about the flavor, but he assured me that I'd get used to it, even come to crave it. "Like green olives, it's an acquired taste." Eric squatted down and took my entire cock, easily 4 inches shorter than his, into his mouth and down his throat and sucked so hard that it actually got completely stiff. He worked on it for about 15 minutes, stopping just short of a climax again and again. If I'd had balls, they'd have been aching by the time he let me go all the way. I felt as if I were cumming, and he assured me that I had cum. "But, how is that possible ?" I asked. "I have no balls to make jism." " You still have a prostate gland, and, though it doesn't work very well without balls, it still produces somne fluid." I was delighted. Eric's cock is almost 9 inches long and about 1¼ inches thick. I knew that I had passed turds about that thick, so, with proper lubrication, I should be able to take it up my ass. Eric got a 3 X 6 foot sheet of oilcloth out of his suitcase and laid it on the bed and had me lie on it.He anointed his cock with Mentholatum which he assured me would sooth and relax my asshole so that I'd feel no pain when he cornholed me. I put my knees up on my chest and Eric lay at full length atop me and kissed me. Then he slowly and gently slid his well greased prick into my home. It opened easily to receive him, being relaxed by the Mentholatum as he had predicted. When it got inside me, the feeling was delicious, unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. He began sliding his rod back and forth inside of me, rubbing it on a sensitive spot that I hadn't known existed. "That's your prostate gland, he told me. If I keep rubbing it, you'll soon cum again, but I want it to last as long as possible, so I'm going all the way in so that there'll be less friction directly oin your prostate gland. When I feel you approaching a climax, I'll start rubbing the gland again and when I feel myself starting to cum, I'll poke it with my cock and you'll cum explosively." I felt that I'd died and gone to Heaven (in which I don't really believe). The ecstasy went on and on. I think that he kept it going, with occasional pauses to cool off a bit, for twenty minutes. The climax was better than anything I had ever experienced when I had balls. I was only sorry that I couldn't do the same for him. I'd gotten a real boner while he was blowing me, but I couldn't get it stiff enough to cornhole him. To my surprise, Eric fished a big, hollow, rubber cock out of his suitcase and had me slip it on over my soggy prick, like a rubber, and strap it on with a belt around my hips. With that, I could fuck his ass and still feel it in my own cock as well. It was heavenly for both of us. Suddenly, Eric started singing the tenor part of the duet "Nuit d'hymenée" from Romeo and Juliet. He was astonished when I joined him singing the soprano part in a passable falsetto.We didn't burst out laughing at the end, though. We had both suddenly come to realize that we were in love. We embraced each other passionately and kissed until we had to break for air. Finally, Eric spurted all over my belly and, to my own surprise, I shot a few drops of sterile cum into the rubber prick. We took another shower together and then just sat looking at each other for a while. Eric finally broke the silence. "Do you believe in love at first sight, Jerry ?" "Yes, I do.It was that way with Stevie and me, though we didn't know then what it was." "I didn't until now I've never felt this way about a boy before.I love you, Jerry." "Oh Eric, Eric" Suddenly we were sobbing and kissing each other. That was ten years ago and we're still together and still very much in love. |