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“Moving Forward” by Kortpeel

I’d been embarrassed to tell Jenny I had a castration fetish but by the time I did she knew me well enough not to be surprised.

“I’ve indulged all your other kinks,” she said with an amused smile. “I suppose this would be the last one.”

“This one you don’t have to indulge. But we can talk about it.”

“Hmm. I’m not so sure, Dave. When I think how weird some of your fancies are, I think it might actually be a good idea to have you castrated. I’ll speak to Dinah about it.”

“Don’t you dare.” Dinah Allaway, who lived in the same building as us, was a nursing sister. She and Jenny had become friends. Her daughter and ours were at school together and that was how we’d come to know her.

“Just in general terms, to see what it means. I won’t tell her that I’m thinking of having you done.”

“You aren’t thinking of having me done. I just wanted to talk about it.”

All my other kinks I’d had to work really hard to persuade Jenny to accept although eventually she had. She hadn’t liked the idea of me cross-dressing but she went along with it. It got to the stage where we could go out as two girls together. What finished that was having two guys come on to us in a bar and Jenny was encouraging them. When I rebuked her afterwards she told me that kind of thing went with the clothes. It happens all the time to women. What did I expect?

I’d been into spanking too for a while. Jenny’s hand stinging my bare buttocks was delicious. Then she went too far and tried it with a cane. One stroke with that was enough. Real pain wasn’t for me.

I could never get her to agree to swapping but she did agree to have sex with another man once she understood that I’d get a kick out of being cuckolded. That happened on holiday one year when she had a romantic evening with a stranger she met. While she was with him she arranged a threesome with him and me for the following evening. Well we did it but that was the end of it. It was embarrassing more than it was erotic. I am sure she picked the guy with the biggest prick in the whole damned resort. And how she’d enjoyed it!

The following year I persuaded her to agree to a nudist holiday. I might have known! The first full day there I kept getting erections and having to go into the sea which, for all its lovely azure blue was ice cold. I got stung by a jellyfish and was laid up for the holiday. Jenny got an all over tan. She even had the cheek to volunteer to have extra marital sex again while we were there. “But darling, it’s so boring being by myself. And last year you were perfectly happy for me to do that.” It turned out that Jenny enjoyed that holiday a lot more than I did.

For all that we had a great marriage and I looked forward to my twice-yearly blow jobs at Christmas and on my birthday.

It was that last blow job that got me on to castration. Jenny was squeezing my balls hard while she did it. Surprisingly a ball squeeze is not painful but extremely pleasant, provided it’s done with uniform pressure all over. As an extra treat Jenny insisted on giving me a pube shave before she blew me. She said it was better for her without all that hair in her mouth and face. That ball squeeze got me to thinking that my balls were being crushed and it was astonishingly erotic.

Jenny was going along so readily with my latest kink that I’d have suspected an ulterior motive except that I couldn’t think what it might be. She even took the initiative on it. “I spoke to Dinah and she says she can do it,” Jenny mentioned out of the blue a week later.

“Do what?”

“Castrate you.” The way Jenny spoke it was as if she were organising for me to have a hair cut. “It’s all quite legal these days. She does it a lot.”

“No Jen. It was only one of my –“

“Quite a lot of guys are having it done, you know. It does have its advantages for you.”

“Definitely not, Jen. Forget about it.

“But I’ve arranged for you to have a consultation with Dinah. We can learn more.”

“Jen, no.”

“Darling, it’s only a consultation. And you did say you wanted to talk about it. You might even enjoy it. She can tell you all about the cutting off and the effects on you and that sort of thing.”

Jenny paused. “Wouldn’t you be interested in that? Just talking about it, of course.”

“Well, as long as that’s all it is.”

I knew Dinah as a pleasant attractive woman, about my own age and we’d often met and spoken socially. We go to PTA meetings together. She was a single parent who was coping very well on her own.

Hence as we walked down the corridor to her apartment I was seized with an attack of shyness. How the heck could I talk to this respectable lady about my castration fantasies and other perversions? “Why can’t we just make it a polite social occasion?” I muttered to Jenny just as she was about to ring the bell.

“Of course, darling. If that’s what you want,” she said as she pressed the button.

Dinah invited us in and served coffee. There was red wine too. Jenny is partial to red wine. She’ll choose that over coffee any time.

“So David,” Dinah began, “Jenny tells me you are interested in castration?”

Straight to the point! So much for a polite social occasion.

“Er, yes.” I tried to make it sound like normal conversation. I failed.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. It is my work you know. I castrate men every week.”

“Really?” Jenny was certainly interested in this topic. I was wishing I’d never mentioned it. “Why do they need to be castrated?”

“A few of them need it because they are transgendered and are planning a sex change at some time. Others opt for it because they are violent. Wife beaters especially. Castration improves their behavior considerably. Another popular reason is to control a man’s sexuality.”

“Oh yes?” Anything to do with a man’s sexuality always interested Jenny.

“From a social point of view this is probably the most important reason of all. You know that these days 65% of marriages end in divorce? On top of that there are many more couples, unmarried but in committed relationships who break up. About 80% of those have young children. We are left with a single parent family and it’s usually a woman struggling to cope on her own.”

I knew Dinah was a single parent herself but she certainly was coping fine.

“I know what I’m talking about too,” Dinah said. “There was a time when I had nothing to eat and couldn’t pay the bills. I could barely pay the rent for a rat-infested one roomed garret.”

Dinah was persuasive. She had to be talking from an experience that had left its mark on her.

“I was lucky and I was able to come right by myself. But there are plenty of good decent women caught in the most hideous poverty trap. The main reason for those relationship break-ups is male sexuality. It’s not just skirt chasing. It’s in the way that a man treats his wife, how he fails to understand her and her needs in a relationship. Men tend to get stuck at the physical sex stage and don’t advance from there into a deeper, warmer, more loving relationship.”

I didn’t fully understand Dinah’s dissertation but Jenny seemed to. She was nodding enthusiastically as if receiving a great revelation. “Yes. That makes sense,” she said.

“The thing is,” Dinah continued, “If we take sex, plain ordinary physical sex, away from them they do move on. They do become loving, caring, more intimate and understanding with their partners.”

Jenny was smiling. She’s always loved the ‘happily ever after’ fairy tale ending to a story. “I think that’s quite beautiful,” she said.

“So that way castration can save a marriage or a relationship. It lets a man move on in his life and it helps provide a healthy traditional family environment for the children to grow up in. It is, in fact, a very responsible thing to do but people don’t yet realize it.”

Dinah looked at us for signs of agreement. She certainly got it from Jenny. I had just about convinced myself that what Dinah had said didn’t apply to me. Jenny and I did have a very sound relationship.

“Then we come to another category and this, David, is probably the one you fit into.”

Now Dinah certainly had my attention. Was I too about to receive a revelation?

“A little psychology first. You must have heard the terms masochism and sadism?”

“Yes.” Jenny was speaking for both of us. I wondered where Dinah was going with this.

“All of us have a touch of both sadism and masochism in our personalities. That is normal. However, if at some critical stage during your growing up, you receive either a masochistic or a sadistic pleasure, it will tilt you in that direction. Masochism in men is very common because they are looked after by women in infancy.

“In most case it is in all innocence. A little boy might be given a bath when other women are around. The assumption is that he’s too young to get embarrassed. But he isn’t. He’s perfectly aware of those women looking at his willy. And of course they are all sweet and kind to the little chap and he loves it. Quite often an older sister might give him his bath and she takes the opportunity to see what a boy’s really like down there. And if he gets an erection… That’s him for life.”

Interesting, I thought. My kinks weren’t my fault. Probably all cousin Elspeth’s doing. She was around a lot when I was a kid and she’s four years older than me. It suddenly came back to me how cousin Elspeth got me dressed up in a frock once and took me out for a walk. I couldn’t have been much more than three. I’d forgotten all about it.

It had been windy that day and I was worried about the skirt blowing up. I remembered cousin Elspeth laughing at my concern. “Silly. It doesn’t matter if your skirt does blow up. It’s all right for people to see your panties up until you’re twelve.”

Words of profound wisdom there! However could I have forgotten that gem of insight into little girl culture?

“So has David ever exhibited any masochistic traits?” Dinah asked.

“Oh yes,” said Jenny, brightly.

Oh shit thought I, darkly.

Jenny happily confided all to Dinah. Every darned thing including some items I’d forgotten about. I used to enjoy those bondage sessions. Why did we stop? Oh yes that peeping Tom window cleaner! The bastard was on his ladder masturbating. He fell off when Jenny invited him to come in and join us. Jenny kindly finished him off as he lay on the ground with a broken leg and his prick still out. She said it was to take his mind off things while we waited for the ambulance.

Dinah listened to Jenny’s account with amused, even delighted interest rather than shock. “Yes you definitely fit into the category, Dave. From what I’ve heard I think you would enjoy being castrated. Would you like to know about the procedure?”

“Oh yes please,” Jenny answered while I was thinking of some way to say no.

“All right. I can talk you through it or if you care to get undressed, Dave, you’ll get a better idea.”

I stared open mouthed at this.

“Come on Dave.” Jenny seemed to me to be a trifle over enthusiastic. I think the red wine had taken effect. “Get undressed.”

I was casually dressed in shirt and slacks. I took off my shirt and got that oh shit feeling again. I was wearing panties under the slacks. It was a little fetish of mine, harmless enough but not something that one would want known. I contrived to slide the panties down with the slacks.

In the confusion I’d forgotten about the pink satin ribbon that Jenny liked to tie in a bow around my cluster whenever we went out together. There it was, displayed to the world. Well, to Dinah and Jenny. I turned scarlet.

“What a cute bow,” Dinah said.

“That’s to let any other woman who gets that far know that he’s all mine,” Jenny explained.

“Such a lovely idea. Every married man should wear one,” Dinah said. “And you keep him well trimmed too. I love his smooth pube.”

“I don’t think men should be allowed to grow their pubic hair,” Jenny said. “It looks so gross.”

I stepped out of the slacks and panties and took off my shoes and socks too. Jenny removed the pink bow.

By dint of thinking frantically about something completely non-sexy, in this case the geometric proof of Pythagoras, I only had a half hard on at that stage. That wasn’t to last.

“May I?” Dinah so courteously asked Jenny.

“Please do,” Jenny replied.

Dinah oh so delicately lifted my prick up out of the way. Thoughts of congruent triangles promptly vanished. My mind, as sometimes happens, was concentrated fully on my prick and the lovely feeling of Dinah’s forefinger and thumb touching it. Then she took my scrotum in her other hand and gently pulled down on it. I thrust my hips forwards and allowed myself to become fully erect. I was only aware of absolute bliss.

She was talking through the procedure and options to Jenny, who listened attentively, but I didn’t hear to a word.

When she’d finished I too had a glass of red wine.

“You ought to get dressed, darling,” Jenny said. She retied the pink ribbon, fished my panties out from my slacks and held them out for me to step into. That done she left them around my ankles for me to pull up myself.

“Pretty undies,” was Dinah’s comment as I got them into place.

“He prefers them,” Jenny told her. I finished dressing.

“So just make an appointment when you’re ready,” Dinah said to Jenny as we left.

“Wasn’t that fun? I think you really enjoyed this evening,” Jenny remarked on our way back to our apartment.

In a weird, embarrassing kind of way I had too.

“And fancy Dinah being into fixing men. What a lucky thing that is. Do you think it’s an omen?”

“No.”

During the course of the next few weeks Jenny spoke of my castration as if it were a foregone conclusion. “I’m so looking forward to having you done,” she would say. “It’ll be so much nicer when you’ve been fixed.”

“Why are you so keen on them coming off?” I asked her one day.

“Because they look ugly on you and you don’t need them any more. And you heard what Dinah said: it’ll make you more loving and considerate. You’ll be a better husband.”

“But won’t you miss getting fucked?”

“Of course not. I won’t miss it at all. Actually that is another thing. I like your willie when it’s soft. It’s cute like that. It’s kind of threatening when it’s hard.”

I couldn’t really understand Jenny saying she wouldn’t miss sex. She loved it and had loud noisy climaxes that told every apartment around ours exactly what was going on in our bedroom.

“You sure you won’t miss me fucking you?” I asked her again after a particularly good night of sex.

“Yes. I shall miss you fucking me but I won’t miss getting fucked.” I didn’t quite understand but I put it down to the way women tend to confuse lovemaking and fucking. I’ve always seen them as two distinct and separate activities.

Although I enjoyed talking about it, I certainly didn’t want to be castrated for real. However talking about something kind of makes it more familiar and less outrageous than when you come to it cold. I’d used the same trick to get Jenny to agree to indulge my other kinks. It kind of gave me a thrill when I realized I was becoming accustomed to the idea of being castrated. And I got a hard on too, just thinking about it. Funny how the ultimate anti-sex thing should be such a turn on.

Also I suspect that Jenny was manipulating me. She certainly knew about that cuckold fetish I’d had – we’d been there, done that. “Dave honey,” she said one evening, “You know how after you’ve been castrated you won’t be able to fuck me any more?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind if I were to have an occasional romantic evening out?” She paused and added “With a man who’s still got his balls.”

The question took my breath away.

She went on “It would be purely sex of course; no involvement or anything. It’s not as though I’d be deceiving you or being unfaithful.”

Jenny was using my own words on me. That had been my argument when I was persuading her to have extra marital sex. The blatant unfairness of her suggestion turned me on no end. And she knew it.

“Hmm. I think it would really be better to leave my balls alone. Then I’ll be able to fuck you myself.”

“Yes darling but remember what Dinah said. Having them off will let you move on in life. You won’t stay stuck at that physical lust stage like most men are. You’ll be a better companion and husband for me.”

Jenny put her arms around me and gave me a loving hug. “Please darling, do it for me, for us. It will be such a beautiful act of love if you do.”

She unzipped my fly and took out my prick. That was a rare event. She hadn’t done that since our courting days. I used to give her a goodnight kiss when I’d taken her home. Those were the good old days of the knee trembler.

“And I won’t go with anyone else if you don’t want me to,” she murmured in my ear. “There’s always little clitty. You would still be able to lick her for me.”

To misquote one famous big Dick slightly ‘When a woman’s got a man by his prick, his heart and mind will follow.’

“Oh, all right then.”

“Thank you darling. I love you so much. Leave it all to me. I’ll see Dinah and make the arrangements.”

Over the next week or so, Jenny was as excited and as loving as she’d been in the run up to our wedding day. It actually reminded me a lot of that time. In all the excitement I’d forgotten one vitally important aspect of our marriage. Jenny hadn’t. “We’ve got to go to Dinah’s place tomorrow.”

“What for? I thought it was next week.”

“For your wank, silly. We’re going to collect some sperm from you and freeze it.”

“Oh.”

“I want to make sure we have enough so we’ll have to go every day. You don’t mind do you?”

“Er. No.”

“Saving sperm is all part of the service.” Jenny chatted along happily. I had the feeling that she knew a lot more about it than I did.

Knowing Dinah socially, rather than professionally, made it all the more erotic when she showed Jenny and me into the ‘sample taking room.’

“We like them to enjoy this,” Dinah said to Jenny. “Get him undressed while I get Sally who’s our professional sample taker.”

Dinah left us and Jenny got me undressed. The other nice thing about having a woman undress you is that a woman will hang up the clothes. I was still in my underpants when Dinah returned with an attractive girl who she introduced as Sally. I was grateful that I wasn’t wearing panties nor Jenny’s pink bow around my cluster. I was still clean shaven down there though.

I was shaking hands and greeting Sally as Jenny whipped down my underpants. Even when one enjoys a little sexual humiliation it can be overdone. I found myself blushing scarlet all over as my penis popped up and flicked a spot of pre-come onto Sally’s immaculate white coat. From Sally’s knowing smile, I guessed she enjoyed her work.

“It’s part of our policy here that our patients enjoy giving a sperm sample,” Dinah explained. “Most places that want a sample expect the patient to masturbate himself but we are against that. We like to do it for them.”

That struck me as a nice, enlightened idea.

“Sally has plenty of experience and is very good at it.”

The idea of Sally bringing me off was delightful.

“I take it you have no objection, Jenny?” Dinah asked.

Jenny probably did. I knew she was apt to be jealous of me where other women were concerned, especially pretty ones like Sally. “No. None at all,” Jenny said.

“Doggy style is best for catching the sample,” Sally explained to Jenny. “When they’re on the table on all fours it’s a nice working height and everything is easy.”

Jenny nodded. She’d brought me off by hand many times but never doggy. I was always on my back. The inevitable result of that was the sticky mess on my chest and stomach and cleaning that up was the part that Jenny didn’t like. She preferred it go into her vagina. Anywhere else was a waste in her book.

Presumably, on the grounds that the outcome of this procedure would end up in her vagina at some time in the future, she didn’t object. In fact she was looking quite enthusiastic about the whole business.

It occurred to me that this was all a female thing and I was merely a necessary accessory to it, like the groom at a wedding. Oddly that was exciting. I knew that when Sally did get started it wasn’t going to take very long.

“So on to the table with you please,” Sally said to me.

“On your hands and knees,” Jenny added for the enjoyment of saying it.

I obeyed. Sally gave me a pat on the rump. “Good boy.” She took a generous dollop of massage oil and commenced working it on to my scrotum and prick. Hell! But that felt soooo nice.

“He’s already got a good erection, Sally said. “I don’t think this is going to take very long. Would you care to hold the beaker for me Jenny?”

Jenny held the beaker to catch my come. Sally went to long slow strokes on my prick. Dinah was watching approvingly. There are a few, very rare moments in life that are absolute perfection and for me this was one of them. I wanted it to last for ever. It was over in a less than a minute but Sally’s slow strokes produced the most memorable come I’d ever had.

Jenny caught all of it in the beaker and Sally went off to freeze it. I collapsed onto the massage table, utterly spent.

“Very good,” Dinah said. “Leave him there. We’ll have a cup of tea while he recovers.” They trooped out leaving me to file a beautiful memory away in the data banks.

There were several sessions like that. I could happily have adopted a daily wank from Sally as a permanent lifestyle. Alas the day came when it was time for the big C. Sally was all loving and telling me how wonderful it was for me to give up my balls for her and for our marriage. I enjoyed her saying that even though I thought she was only doing it so that I didn’t back out.

The odd thing was that I was looking forward to having my balls cut off. There was something about it that turned me on fantastically, even though I was perfectly aware of the consequences. Dinah’s philosophy on this had been reassuring. She said that once it was gone I wouldn’t miss my libido. Meantime enjoy it. And with Sally’s help I had enjoyed it.

This can’t be true. Am I really going to have my balls cut off? I thought as Jenny drove me to Dinah’s for the procedure. And how come my wife is so enthusiastic about my castration? “Oh Darling, I love you so much. I can hardly wait for these to be gone,” she’d said to me that morning as we got ready. She was giving my pube a touch up shave in preparation at the time. She was even kind of excited about it.

Would you believe? I don’t really remember much of what happened after we arrived at Dinah’s. We went into the recovery room where Jenny got me undressed and Dinah gave me a tranquilizer. After that it gets a bit hazy. I remember Jenny, Sally and Dinah were all there, wearing those surgical gowns and masks. They had me on my back with my legs in stirrups. They were doing things to me down there that felt kind of nice. There go my balls, I thought and I didn’t give a dam. It just felt nice.

“He’s waking up,” somebody said.

Jenny was holding my hand and gazing lovingly at me.

“How do you feel?” That was Dinah.

“Okay.” Actually I felt better than that. It was like waking up from a good night’s sleep. I felt refreshed. Whatever they’d given me had worked well.

“See if you can get up.”

As seemed usual with anything to do with Dinah I was bollick naked — except of course there weren’t any bollicks any more. I got out of bed and stood up. I wasn’t quite as refreshed as I’d thought. I had to lean on Jenny as I took a few tottering steps.

While I was up I had a pee and Jenny kindly aimed for me.

“All right, back to bed now,” Dinah told me. I was happy to comply.

I slept right through until next morning and woke up hungry. Dinah came in to check up on me and check the dressing. “The testicles came out through the bottom of the scrotum,” she told me. “That’s the least invasive way of doing it.”

I nodded. For me the whole point was that they were gone and I was trying to adjust to that. Sally came in with some breakfast on a trolley. There was a small dining table in the room, she set and served up bacon and eggs. I was hungry and it smelt delicious. Dinah left, Sally sat and drank coffee while I ate. She was obviously used to naked men. She took my nudity in her stride. But then I realised that she would. I wasn’t a proper man any more.

We made conversation. Sally came across as a warm friendly person and I had a kind of sad feeling that I wouldn’t be able to have sex with her even if she would let me.

Jenny came later with my clothes. She helped me dress as if I were an invalid and she was all loving and tender with me. So much so that I felt some stirrings down there but I knew it was just the effect of residual testosterone and soon it would be gone. I wouldn’t ever be able to make love to Jenny again. It kind of got me down and I was wishing I hadn’t had it done.

“Don’t worry,” Jenny said on the way home. “Dinah said there’d be a period of adjustment. You’ll soon come to terms with your new status. And remember that I love you.”

Jenny’s words were amazingly supportive. I hadn’t realized before just how much I needed her love.

I carried on with my life, fully aware of my loss and regretting it strongly at first. Then something amazing happened. It was on my birthday, a few months later when Jenny produced some testosterone and wanted to inject me with it . I declined.. When I was actually faced with the restoration of my libido I realized that I really had moved on. It had taken a while but I was able to see what Dinah had been trying to explain. Having a sex drive is an addiction that dominates your whole life. Now that it was gone I felt the freedom that came from sex no longer having its grip on me. I was actually my own person and I didn’t want my sex drive restored. I had absolutely no need of it.

There was no more of that old aching longing whenever I saw an attractive woman. It was liberation in its truest sense. I realized that I’d always seen women as something to put my prick into. I’d automatically graded them according to the lust they engendered in me. Not any more. Now women are people too and I actually get along better with them that I ever did before. A woman responds well to being treated as a person.

Jenny and I are closer than ever. I have moved on in life and I am a better person for it. She’s pregnant with my sperm that was saved so I’m going to be a dad again.

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