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On Sunday, we again arose late. I fucked him once more, slowly and deeply, facing him with his legs up on my shoulders. I guess he liked this best; he could watch and study me. I came deep inside him, and felt moved, almost to tears, for what he was giving me, and for how much he had suffered from those things I was about to relieve him of. I kissed him, as thanks, and he smiled as though he understood. We fixed breakfast, but neither of us felt like eating much. We puttered about a bit, but I would check on Dave’s balls from time-to-time. We both knew what was coming, without doubt, and were nervous. Finally about eleven, I called Dave to me, carefully held and examined his balls (the last time I would hold them without gloves – until they were truly mine), and told him to wash up and get ready. He smiled, said nothing, and went off. Indeed, he said nothing more to me until after all was done. I went to the OR and made preparations, just as I had the day before. Dave finished preparing himself, but I let him wait outside the OR for about fifteen minutes. Finally, I summoned him in. He quietly climbed onto the table and assumed the position I required to work on him. He lay back, relaxed and stared up at the ceiling again. I set up a mirror so he could watch what I was doing. Mostly, however, he continued to stare at the ceiling, probably lost in his own dreams. Again, he got a hard-on when I shaved him; I got him off as before, and cleaned up and sterilized the work area. I injected the anesthetic as before, and repeatedly asked him if he could feel anything while I poked and prodded his balls. About fifteen minutes later he nodded no, and we were ready to begin. I can still remember every move and cut, each done exactly as I had practiced the day before. I can’t speak of my elation when I made the final slice and his sac, with both of his balls, plopped gently into my specimen tray. Dave seemed to know; he let out a long sigh, the only sound he had made since we started. He knew he was now castrated, and I knew that I had done it. Now I stitched up his wound, cleaned and swabbed the area, and laid gauze and bandages over it. I told Dave to lie still, relax and dream of his new life. I did as much tidying up as I could do with Dave still on the table. My big task was now to take my new ballsac, sew up its loose edges, and clean it thoroughly. Then without gloves, I held it; it felt strangely heavy and rubbery. I showed it to Dave, let him hold it one last time, and then set it on a tray on his stomach. I ordered him to slide to the end of the table, as yesterday, and I fucked him. With his balls in front of me, that were now all mine, I have to say that this was the best fuck of all. Dave was into it too, ramming his ass onto my cock as I rammed it into him. He was really enjoying this, being castrated and then fucked. Pity, I thought, he can only do this once; but, I realized, I could do it again, and again and again. How many men could I castrate? With such fantasies I cummed, deeply thrusting into Dave, as he pushed hard onto me. I have never had a more satisfying and fulfilling fuck and ejaculation. If this is what it feels like to castrate a man, I could never do it enough. This was the first time ever that I had fucked a castrated man, and I had done it all! Totally spent, I still had the sense to clean Dave’s asshole for him, check his dressing and send him off to bed. First, though, I held my new ballsac one last time, then dropped it into the jar prepared for it. Dave watched and nodded approval. I wanted to help get him off; he must need it, but he wasn’t yet ready. I knew I could do it several more times before the day was over, and I suspected he would need to as soon as his penis came out from the anesthetic. After all, even a castrated man needs to cum. I let Dave rest for a few hours. I knew that he would be in some discomfort when the anesthetic wore off, so it was best that he relax now. When he got up, I checked him over, then served him a small lunch I had prepared. This time, we were both hungry. The rest of the afternoon we simply lounged around together, again with his head on my shoulder and my arm about his shoulders. My other hand now had no particular place to focus on; occasionally, I’d just rub him lightly on his legs and stomach. We told each other how much we each enjoyed the experience. I mentioned how much I wished we could do it again. “Well, I can’t,” Dave laughed. “But I’m sure that you will. There must be a million men out there who need you to castrate them. They’ll find you.” I was dubious, but hoped he was right. This got me all excited again, Dave too, so I ordered him to position himself as before on the table. I was going to give him one last good fuck. I cummed again, held my cock in his hole for maybe three minutes as he pushed hard against me with his ass. When I finally withdrew, I slowly and gently sucked him off, all the while lightly fingering around the base of his cock and over the bandage that covered the spot where his sac used to be. He finally cummed, delivering a surprising amount, which I proudly swallowed. I wiped down his fuckhole, and told him to go cleanup before a final inspection of all we had done. When Dave came back and displayed himself before me, I saw that all was well. I told him to get dressed, but warned that he was required to strip and present himself to me whenever he entered my house. He nodded agreement. As he got ready to go, we hugged each other. He smiled and said, “Thank you, Jack. You’ve been the best friend a eunuch can have. Just remember, to you I am no longer a man. Please treat me as such.” I could only say, “I will.” He had given me the greatest experience of my life; I couldn’t thank him enough. I would always find time to make his new life special. With that, Dave drove off home. I sat back on the couch and thought about how lucky I was to have done something few men ever get to do. With such pleasant thoughts, and dreams of more castrations ahead, I put myself to bed, and was quickly asleep. It turned out that Dave was right. There really must be a million men out there waiting for me to castrate them. At least, Dave seemed to know a good number of them. Within a month, I had my second client, a tall thin man in his late forties, who was a friend of Dave’s. From here, word seemed to spread. Most new clients were middle-aged single gay men, like Dave, but soon I was getting inquiries from a variety of types, including younger guys and some straights. So in the last five years, since I castrated Dave, I have performed seventy-eight ball removals. Each one is special to me, though none can ever match my first time with Dave. Most, though, have gone to join his sac in my collection. I am proud of each one of them. So, this should answer all the questions I typically am asked. As for Dave, he seems happier and more at peace with himself than ever before. After his operation, we met for drinks or dinner every night or two. I checked his cut and bandages, and he was healing nicely. About two weeks later, I had him out to the house (he stripped for me, of course), and I removed his stitches. I then stroked him along his scar-line; it seemed very sensual, and he said so too. I ordered him to the table for a fuck. I couldn’t keep my hand away from his empty crotch. I still invite him over occasionally, to check him out and to give him a good fuck if I’m in the mood. Dave always complies with enthusiasm; he says that getting fucked feels better than ever now, and that it is best from the man who castrated him. He has also been good at sending clients my way; he sometimes even helps me out in the OR. He’s not much use for the surgical stuff (rather squeamish about blood), but is good at comforting the guys getting castrated. The men he knows seem especially glad to have him around. I can’t lavish as much attention on my clients now as I gave Dave, but I do my best to make their castration experiences with me the highlight of their sexual lives. Still, I have to admit that there will always be a special bond of affection between Dave and me. I guess it could not be otherwise, between a man who gives you his balls, and the man who castrates him. |