http://www.icon.co.za/~hugot/circum/Terrycut.htm

Remember me ? My name's Terry. Maybe you read about me

taking my kid Darren to see the Doctor. He's a great guy that

Doc. I've always had a lot of admiration for him. Not just since

that time, and not just because he's educated, mind you he's

looked over this and checked the spelling and things, but he's a

guy who knows what he wants and he gets it. I respect that. I'm

a bit like that myself, of course. And luckily last time what we

both wanted was the same thing. Darren's foreskin.

Which we got.

 

Easy really, as it turned out, but I'll tell you something. When

I first saw that kid in the bath, with that lovely great cock

floating there between his legs, far too good for a kid of

fifteen, I never thought I'd make it. Let alone watch it happen.

I only got a quick flash that time, then he saw me looking, I

think, because he sat up and it went under the water. The tip was

still out though, and that's what I liked the best. Better than

my own, anyhow. You probably know what had happened to that.

Anyhow, I made damn sure I got a better look next time, and I

started fantasising about it. I tell you it was like a dream.

Now like I said, I'm a guy that likes to get what he wants. I

wanted just one thing. In fact I didn't just want it, I needed it,

really bad. I needed Darren's cock circumcised. I suppose it was

partly envy, that's what Doc thinks, anyway, but it was partly the

urge to have my mark on it. You may think that's cruel. All

right, it's cruel. I wanted Darren cut, not like I'd been,

butchered, but properly. And I thought about it and I thought

about it. Only thing, I didn't have the slightest how I could get

it done.

 

I knew one thing, though. I couldn't do it myself. Thought about

that too, mind you. Didn't I just. There's sometimes articles,

or letters in Forum magazine, and I read a couple, but they

weren't what I wanted. I even went to a medical bookshop to see

what I could find. I smartened myself up a bit and tried to look

like I belonged there. It didn't wash, of course, never does, and

I felt so fucking obvious. I looked up circumcision in two books

on surgery, but they were full of words I didn't know. I'm not

well educated, see. Course these days I know, because Doc

explained, after he did Darren. Words like meatus and corona.

Doc said he'd 'adjusted Darren's meatus'. That's a nice word,

meatus, especially after I learnt to call it me-ate-us, not

meet-us. But all it means is piss-hole. That's a nice word too.

Even nicer, Doc had cut Darren's wide open and it looked terrific.

Anyhow, I knew the big word, circumcision. I have since I was a

kid. Most kids do, because one of the first things they notice is

that not all little boys are alike.

 

Then I asked our old lady, and she said it was

something they did to bad boys, to stop them playing with it. I

hadn't much, till then, but after that somehow it suggested the

idea.

 

Got a bit off the track, haven't I. Anyhow, I looked at some of

the other books in the book-shop, and one of them was called

'Surgery in Africa' or something like that. So I picked it up and

looked up the index, and sure enough, just after 'Churchill, Sir

W.' (Christ knows what he was doing there !), there it was.

'Circumcision' and page numbers. I looked up the first one, and

BINGO !!. The other books just had drawings, which was

interesting but not very exciting. But this one had a picture of

a big coloured guy, having it done. I got a bit turned-on by

that. Too right I did. The killer though, was on the page

opposite. There it was, in black and white. "I do not" says this

guy, a doctor mind you, "I do not see the need for anaesthetics

when circumcising the African. Instead I advise him to practice

self-control." Yeah, well, my self-control slipped a bit there.

Now I guess the assistants in that shop are used to the odd

customer freaking out over the books. I was wearing tight briefs,

and my jacket was more or less closed, but without wishing to

boast, when I get a stalk on, let's say it shows. And those few

words had just given me the stalk of a lifetime.

Because you see, I knew how it felt, and I could just imagine some

poor coon waiting to get his, while this guy advises self-control

and sharpens his penknife. Tasty.

All that evening, watching telly I'm looking out

the corner of my eye at Darren. Thinking about what his

self-control would be like.

 

Round about this time I get this letter from Sylv. She's Darren's

mum, and I suppose she's my wife. Now she's gone off with her

boy-friend, haven't seen her in well over a month. Not that I

care. Anyhow, she says she wants a divorce, which is fine by me,

and she doesn't want to see me or Darren again. What can I say ?

Great. Funny, though. She's been rushing round after anything in

trousers ever since we got married. Actually I didn't much care,

but while I was with her I didn't look at anyone. Well, not true,

but I never went with anyone. Well, that's not true either. I

sucked a guy off on the train from Clapham Junction once. And I

admit I'd fancied Darren a bit, but not like it got later. He's a

real good looker, you know. And if I'd known then what I know

now, I could have been fucking him speechless since he was

fourteen. He says now he used to wish I would. He's a good kid.

You know he's not mine, but I'm really fond of him. He is of me,

too. Seems a funny thing to say after what happened, doesn't it.

But I'll tell you something else funny. Darren's crazy about Doc,

and it was Doc that cut him. Look, I'm getting all mixed up

again.

 

I got big early. I had started to have hair on my balls by the

time I was twelve, but it was the Greek kids that I watched.

Remember, we were only eleven when we went there, and some of

those kids had hair so thick you could hardly see their cocks

through it. Fact, I asked one of them once "How do you find it

when you need a slash ?", and he said, "It's the thickest tree in

the forest !" Too fucking right it was ! Mind you, when I got a

hard on it was bigger than his, cause it was longer, not so thick

mind you, but I thought it looked better. Some of those Greek

kids had real funny shaped ones, too. Short and stubby and very

flat heads like mushrooms. We used to compare them a lot in the

showers, that's how I know. The other kids I looked at were the

black kids. Now people say that they're the big ones, and some of

them weren't bad, but I reckon I was as big as any of them

I used to think a lot about cock in those days. Most kids do. A

lot of them grow out of it, but I never have. I used to wank

quite a lot, too, in class even. Quite a lot of kids did

especially in English lessons. Don't know why English, probably

because it was boring. The bloke who taught it was a real fairy.

I reckon he didn't like to take the risk of interrupting us. Only

one night when I was fifteen, I got mine, like Darren got his.

I should have said that our old man had cashed in his chips about

a year ago. Kevin and Ron being both a bit older than me were

earning good money on building sites. Kev especially, he was a

big bruiser, thick as a brick, but one of nature's cement

carriers. So they agreed to look after me till I left school,

which couldn't be too soon for me. Anyhow, that night I thought I

was on my own in the house, I went upstairs to have a quiet wank.

Kevin and Ron were in the boozer as usual.They must have come

in dead quiet, because I was lying on the bed

with my chopper in my hand, just getting into the rhythm of it

when the door opens and Kevin man walks in. "What the fuck d'you

think you're doing ?" he says, "Dirty little bleeder. 'Ere Ron,

take a look at this, we got a wanker in the family." Well, I

suppose it wasn't too bright of me, but I said "That makes three,

dunnit." Should have said two, shouldn't I, because of course

that gets Kev on the raw like it was meant to, but it gets Ron

sore as well.

 

Anyhow, Kevin thumps me for cheeking him, and I call him a fucking

bastard and thump him back. Then Ron tries to get between us, and

I make another mistake. Honest, I didn't mean to, but I was still

trying to get to Kevin and I caught Ron square in the cobblers.

Well, I was quite strong for my age, so he retired hurt, like they

say, and Kev thumped me again and then went off downstairs to see

if Ron was all right.

 

Now I may not have said it, but if Kevin was a stupid bastard, and

he was, Ron was an evil one. Stupid as well, but mostly evil. I

didn't see either of them the next morning, because they were out

on the job before I got up. They were on site-work, see, and that

started at half-past seven. I went to school as usual, I mean I

was a good kid, like Darren, no bunking-off or anything. There

was soccer practice, so I got back about six. I'd almost

forgotten last night's little incident. No sign of my brothers,

but that wasn't a surprise. I went down the Chinese take-away and

got some food.

 

What I didn't know was what Kevin and Ron were up to. I said he was

stupid, didn't I, and I said he was evil. I missed

out he was a vengeful cunt. Now my bad luck was that about

nine-thirty or so, after they'd had quite a few, he started to go

on about getting hit in the cobblers. On and on and on, if I know

him. There's another guy sitting at the table, and after a bit he

gets the drift, so to speak. After a bit he introduces himself,

buys them a pint, and agrees that today's kids are nothing better

than a load of hooligans and yobboes, etc, etc. He must have been

about the same age as them, I should think, so today's kids, ie

me, would be five years younger than them, at the outside ! Now

Ron is trying to get Kevin worked up about me beating my meat, but

what he's sore about is the punch in the cobblers. The strange

guy, I can just see his eyes light up when he puts these two

together. "Well," he says, rubbing his hands I'll bet, "if a

kid's a wanker there's only one cure for it, and if he punches

foul, I know a trick worth two of that". At which point,

according to Kevin, Ron jumps straight to the point and says, "So

do I. Circumcise the little bleeder." Kev thinks this is a joke,

see, but no way.

 

"Got it in one," the strange bloke says. "If you want to stop him

wanking, well that'll take the shine off it for him. Besides,

it's only fair, he damages your three-piece suite, you go for

his."

Course there was more than this, but Kev was always a bit cagey

about what. He says he wasn't keen but they bought him another

pint and talked him into it. Anyway the next question was

"How ?". Pity they didn't know about Doc. "Look here,"says the

guy, when he's bought another round, "I'm not a doctor, but I'm a

qualified male nurse. I'll do it. It's not difficult, I've seen

it done lots of times. We can do it at home and not bother your

doctor." Ron doesn't take any persuading. Kev takes a bit more,

according to him, but he's pretty plastered and the guy says the

thing they all say, "It's only a bit of skin !" Pretty important

bit, though, in my view. So they all troop out the boozer and

home, Ron and Kev as pissed as ferrets. Luckily for me the

strange guy had had a lot less than them or God knows what would

have happened. I was up in my room, not wanking this time,

listening to my records if you must know. Suddenly the room is

full of people. Well, that's what it feels like. "We're going to

put a stop to your larks" says Ron, and they just sit on me. I

couldn't do a thing. One minute, I'm lying on the bed all

peaceful listening to the record-player, the next there's two

fifteen stone blokes on top of me. Which worried me, but not as

much as it should have. Because the next thing I hear is evil Ron

saying "Take his pants down." Now Kevin is sitting on my chest

facing me, and I can't really see much. I didn't get a chance to

look at the stranger, hardly at all. I struggled a bit, of

course, but it didn't do much good. My jeans came off. He left

my underpants. And you know I still didn't catch on. Then I hear

the strange guy's voice. I'll never forget that. It was a simple

question really. "Where's the scissors ?". I only heard him say

one other thing, but I won't forget that voice. "Where's the

scissors ?"

 

"In the kitchen drawer," says kind brother Ron.

I still can't see the guy, but I hear his steps going down the

stairs. Kev maybe got cold feet just then, because he said to

Ron, "Here Ron, d'you really think this is all right ?"

"Course it is," says Ron. "It'll make a man of him !" Then he

gives an evil chuckle. The guy comes back up the stairs. I still

can't see him or what he's doing, but I felt him pull down my

briefs. Christ my cock and balls didn't half feel cold and

exposed. Ron must have taken a good look, because he said, "Not

bad for a nipper."

 

Then the bloke says the only other word I heard him say. I heard

it once again when he was done. "Right !" he says, very softly.

And he slips the scissors underneath my foreskin and starts to cut.

Just imagine it. Take a second or so and hold it in your mind.

It's the worst pain you've ever felt, it's the worst pain in the

world, and it's right there in the sensitive skin of the most

sensitive part of your body. And he's doing it very, very slowly

so that very, very slowly it gets worse and worse and worse. It

doesn't get unbearable. The way he does it, with the blunt

scissors, it starts unbearable, and you feel the cut like fire

round your cock-head. He's an amateur, so he tries to cut too

much skin and the blades jam. He starts at the very tip and puts

the blades under the foreskin, then he forces them shut and the

skin tears between them. Then when he has got through he cuts the

skin back, pulling it on one side so it gapes where he takes too

much, then leaving a great fold of skin on the other. Underneath

he just hacks it away, leaving the frenum but cutting down the

shaft along the join mark. No, I wasn't brave. I'd have screamed

the place down, only Kevin had his big hand over my mouth, damn

near smothering me. I tried to bite him, but I couldn't. I

wriggled and twisted, but they were both big guys, and I couldn't

get any leverage. Each time I writhed, the bastard at my groin

cut a bit harder. At last, he was finished, and so, nearly, was

 

 

I. As it was, I thought I was going to pass out, when I heard

that voice once more. "Right !" it said again.

My brothers stood up then, taking their weight from my body, and

as they did so I saw him standing between my legs. He had the

scissors in one hand, and in the other the rag of skin he'd just

torn off my cock. I shan't forget that face.

 

And if you ever read this, friend, remember that.