Story I wrote that Literotica won't publish!
Circumcision: A Love Story
Copyright 2017 Adam Jamesev.email@example.com
Circumcision: A Love Story
Our relationship isn't exactly traditional.
My name is Josh and I'm a 33-year-old freelance writer – which really means that I'm mostly unemployed and spend a lot of time at home. That's not to say I don't play an important role in the relationship. Catherine is my fiancée, and she's a 33-year-old junior lawyer working in a prominent firm downtown, working crazy hours. Because of her busy schedule, I end up being the one who cleans the house, gets the groceries, cooks the meals, does the errands, plans the vacations, and, most importantly, helps Catherine relax when she gets home. Actually, it's a great arrangement – we're very happy together, and very much in love.
In the history of our relationship, there was only one issue we really needed to work out: my being uncircumcised.
1. Dating History
To get into it, I need to give a bit more background.
Catherine and I went to high school together. She took my virginity when I was 16-years-old, having already lost hers. Our sexual compatibility was outstanding from the start. I guess I'm a more gentle person; I could never relate to the alpha male types, bragging about the girls they'd fucked. If it wasn't for Catherine, I probably wouldn't have lost my virginity until I was well into my mid-twenties, to some similarly awkward art student. But, fortunately for me, Catherine has an assertive personality and when she took notice of me in our mutual friend group, she pursued me. I welcomed her attention: besides being sharply intelligent and having a great sense of humor, Catherine is very attractive. She has a pretty face, flowing dark hair, and breasts that are large without being unwieldy. After befriending me, she even made the first move, and kissed me in her car one night in front of my house when she was dropping me off. I kissed back, and after that we were boyfriend and girlfriend.
At first, sex was awkward. I'd never done anything with anyone else, even kissed a girl. But slowly but surely she brought me along, until eventually one night in her bed, after a few nights of my losing my erection due to anxiety, she successfully guided me inside of her and took my virginity. After that, we were off to the races; if we couldn't get privacy at either of our houses, she'd just drive me out to a secluded spot off the forested highway near our house, and fuck me in the back seat of her car. What was remarkable about all of this was how well our dynamic functioned. She took the lead and I followed. One funny example of this is that we never once had sex in the missionary position: Catherine naturally preferred to be on top, and I naturally preferred her to be on top. She, also, was the exclusive initiator of sex; she'd let me know when she was ready – sometimes by rubbing my penis through my jeans – and then we'd find somewhere to go where I could get naked and get on my back for her.
We were high school sweethearts and the ending was predictable. We both moved away to different universities and that was that. I didn't realized how well we'd clicked until my next relationship began and my new girlfriend, naturally, expected me to take the lead! Our sex life was painfully awkward. After that, I fumbled around with different women for a few years, and eventually got somewhat comfortable with being in charge, but nothing ever felt as right as it had with Catherine. I just assumed I'd get progressively more used to the expected male-female dynamic and that's how sex would always be.
Fortunately for me, in my late-twenties, Catherine came back into my life. We'd both ended up moving back to the city – me to save money while writing by living at home, her for law school – and she got in touch and we went out for a drink to catch up. The conversation flowed easily. She wasn't just the Catherine I remembered, she was a Catherine enriched by years of personal growth – and I was the same. She invited me back to her apartment for a nightcap, and one thing lead to another and we ended up making out and getting naked.
That first time together again was a bit clumsy. First, I was feeling my usual initial performance anxiety, and couldn't get hard. Then, when I did, I brought my cock up to her mouth for a blowjob. I remember she looked at my cock like she'd never seen it before, gave it a quick kiss on the tip, and then said that we should go get a condom. We'd never used a condom before – I'd never used a condom at all – and while she was in the bathroom looking for one, I realized sorting out the mechanics of the condom would make sex impossible for me. When she got back with one, I just looked at her apologetically, and we cuddled instead. Catherine is very understanding, though. She knows I sometimes need to be brought along slowly, and over the days and weeks that followed we segued back into being a couple and having the great sex I remembered.
Soon after, she invited me to move into her spacious downtown apartment with her.
Many happy years of dating followed – we were now serious boyfriend and girlfriend – and our sex life had only gotten better.
We developed a better sense of what each other liked (and even frequently had sex in missionary, not just girl-on-top)! Catherine liked long languid oral sex sessions, when she'd lie back on our large king-sized bed, with a soft breeze blowing through our curtains, and me lapping at her vagina. When she wanted her clitoris sucked and kissed, she'd show me by drawing back her clitoral hood with her two index fingers, then would purr in approval if she liked whatever particular pattern I was making with my tongue. She had a beautiful vulva, with medium-length labia, and a trimmed patch of pubic hair, with a beautifully symmetrical growth pattern. She sometimes liked to use her vibrator while I kissed her heavy breasts and sucked her sensitive nipples each in turn – and if something was feeling particularly good she'd sometimes clutch at my hair to keep me in place.
During intercourse – while she was riding me – she liked for us to hold hands, palm to palm, intertwining fingers. She liked it when I asked for her to kiss me. She'd always ask me how close I was to cumming, wanting precise verbal updates as to how near I was to filling her with my semen. She prodded me to whisper my most intimate feelings and fantasies into her ear while she fucked me, leaning down and insisting I tell her what I was thinking about without holding anything back. Then, once I swore I was being honest, she would whisper back responses intended to trigger as powerful an orgasm as possible. If, for example, I confessed to her that I was imagining that she was off birth control and we were trying to make a baby, she'd whisper into my ear, “I'm ovulating and I really think you should get me pregnant.”
She'd often push my boundaries, being the more sexually imaginative of the two of us. She had several private kinks that would often come up in the bedroom. For example, she learned about Oedipal fantasies from a psychology course she took, and it was an endless source of fascination for her. She'd regularly ask whether I'd ever masturbated with my mother's panties or fantasized about my mother, or what I thought it would be like to fuck my mother or be blown by my mother, and in this or that made-up scenario. And I'd always indulge her, following her lead, trying to imagine being in such a situation, and letting her be my erotic guide, never shaming her vibrant sexuality. Her fantasies always turned me on, even if they sometimes made me uncomfortable at first. And there were many other scenarios she'd lay out for me – it was always some new variation.
Most of our focus was on her. She never really gave me oral – she said it wasn't her thing – which I sometimes missed. But in general I didn't want for anything. I liked that she took the lead, and I liked that I could make her feel really good.
I woke up every morning to Catherine mounting me, and fell asleep each night after she made me orgasm inside her. I was completely contented and in love.
One day, I stood in front of the mirror and examined my nude body. I had a medium-build, broad shoulders, a bit of a tummy, and a hairy unkempt chest. My pubic hair was cut short, nearly shaved (Catherine's preference). I had a well-sized penis: about 6.5 or 7”, thick, and well-proportioned. And, being uncircumcised, I had a long slinky foreskin that, like all foreskins, had the same papery texture as rose petals. It entirely covering the dewy head of my penis, and tapered into a closed pucker. I'd never thought much about my not being circumcised. I knew most guys in the US were circumcised, but hardly knew what the difference was. I remember thinking that day how remarkable it was that, despite my ordinary and imperfect body, Catherine – so out of my league – still found me perfectly attractive.
I was about to find that wasn't exactly true.
One day, I was trying to RSVP to a wedding we were invited to on some frustrating app, which wanted me to sign on from Catherine's g-mail account. Rather than bother her with a chore, I went and grabbed her iPad from the bedroom and opened the app there. I searched her friend's name and my own name to narrow down the search, and it returned the relevant e-mail but also, below it, a chat log.
I couldn't help but notice a highlighted sentence: “Is Josh's foreskin still making sex difficult for you guys?”.
This definitely caught my attention and, after considering momentarily whether to respect Catherine's privacy, my curiosity got the best of me.
As I read through the exchange, my blood began to rush. It was girl talk about our private life – sometimes sincere, sometimes sarcastic – and a lot of it was about my not being circumcised. Catherine was complaining about my foreskin for various reasons. A big one seemed to be that she wasn't getting enough friction at the beginning and end of my thrusting. Apparently the head of my penis wasn't pressing itself past her vaginal entrance directly, like a circumcised one would, but was always gliding through my foreskin which stayed put, almost imperceptibly, at the entrance of her vagina. This caused the normal “in-and-out” sensation of sex to be replaced by the feeling of my foreskin sliding up and down, which basically just felt like I was wearing a very thick and loose-fitting condom. She found this frustrating.
Her friend was in complete sympathy, referencing an ex-boyfriend she'd had that was uncircumcised (“I feel your pain!!”), and Catherine was saying that she didn't know how – or if – to tell me. She knew it would be hard for me to hear, and so she wanted to make certain how she felt about my being uncut. And, if she could live with it, I never needed to know, and if she couldn't, she could break up with me without ever needing to bring it up and damaging my self-confidence.
I was shattered.
That night, as soon as Catherine got home I told her we needed to talk. As soon I told her what I saw, she started crying. As wrecked as I was, so was she. She knew how hurt I must be.
After getting herself together, she apologized, and tried to explain.
She told me she loved me.
That she really wasn't a superficial person.
That she was trying her best but needed to be honest.
My beautiful loving girlfriend of many years, sitting across from me in a chair, in the living room of our home, looked at me directly, took a deep breath, and said:
“Your not being circumcised is an issue for me.”
She explained that I was the first uncircumcised guy she'd been with. All of her previous boyfriends were circumcised. Her father and brother were both circumcised. For some reason she hadn't noticed I was uncut when we were teenagers, first exploring sex, but noticed straightaway once we got back together. She didn't say anything as she tried to get used to it. She loved me, but found that my foreskin made achieving satisfying sex – and orgasms – very difficult.
She also admitted she normally actually loves giving guys oral sex, but hated the fussiness of my foreskin – how it would always roll forward, and how it needed to be held in just the right way or would cause me to yelp in pain. She also hated how squishy it felt in her mouth.
She said she'd always known she preferred circumcised penises, but only realized while dating me that she also actively disliked uncircumcised ones.
She repeated some of what I read in the chat log. Foreskin ruined her favorite sensation – feeling the well-defined head of an erection push its way past her vaginal entrance, followed by a well-defined shaft, and then feeling both well-defined parts pull all the way out on the backstroke. With a foreskin, these sensations all melded together into vague mushy pressure.
She also hated the idea that there was an extra layer between us preventing me from fully feeling her vagina around my glans, or her from fully feeling my glans in her vagina, except for a brief moment at the end of my thrust when my glans finally pushed free of the foreskin (which felt great). She felt like my being uncircumcised prevented us from achieving full intimacy she'd sometimes felt with the circumcised guys she'd dated. This was especially confusing and frustrating consider she generally felt a lot closer to me than she did to them.
She said she'd been wracked with guilt. She'd felt like a total superficial bitch for even being bothered by this. That she didn't deserve me. But that she was a very sexual person and couldn't get over the way she felt my foreskin was screwing up our sex life.
She wanted to be clear. It was that she disliked my penis. It was just that she would have preferred it if my mother had had me circumcised as a baby. She wished she could just snap her fingers and have my foreskin gone.
She said she liked everything else about our sex life; really, everything else about our relationship. She also appreciated that my hygiene was excellent, so that despite being uncircumcised my penis didn't have much of an odor, something her girlfriends were quick to bring up as one of the main reasons they tended to avoid uncircumcised men.
She also admitted, when I asked her and told her she could be honest, that yes, circumcised penises are a lot more attractive than uncircumcised ones. That circumcised penises always looked manly, where uncircumcised ones looked somehow feminine, kind of like a vagina actually, like a clit in a frilly hood. We both laughed at this description, easing the mood.
She said some of her girlfriends, who hadn't actually been with uncut guys, thought uncut cocks were supposed to look like cut ones so long as they're hard, so that practically speaking there wasn't even much of a difference between the two. The girlfriends in the know, though, who'd actually been with uncut guys and paid attention, would just roll their eyes at these girls, who'd never actually had to deal with dating a guy that wasn't cut. They knew that, especially for guys with an average or above-average amount of foreskin, there was plenty of extra skin staying over the head of the penis, even when it was hard.
We were both cried and talked out. I forgave her for everything, and told her that from now on she could always be honest with me about what she was feeling, even if it might hurt my feelings at first. We hugged and kissed and felt closer than ever.
3. Thinking it Over
The weeks that followed were new and exciting. I was glad that everything was out in the open and that we could talk things over right when they came up.
Catherine had become more affectionate. One of our new staples was sitting on our bed nude, while Catherine would masturbate my erection while kissing me and talking with me. As usual – in the same way I'd always masturbated – she'd use my foreskin as a sort of masturbation sleeve, rolling it up and over the head, with her hand never coming into direct contact with my glans. It was a very nice warm-up to sex.
One time, she did something she'd never done before. She asked me to hold on, telling me she wanted to try something, and grabbed a bottle of lube from the bedside table. She drizzled a copious amount of the milky liquid onto the foreskin-sheathed head of my erection. Then, with one hand, she pulled the foreskin back tight. She gave me a second to get used to it.
“How does that feel?”
“Tight. But also exposed. I feel vulnerable.”
She always found my observations interesting. “I get that. You're used to having your foreskin over it. I guess it would be kind of like if a woman had her vagina totally spread open.”
“You're allowed to feel vulnerable with me, though.”
“I know, my love.”
Now, with the other lubed hand, Catherine closed her fist around the base of my shaft, and began to slide it up and over the glans.
Instantly, the sensation was far more intense than I was used to when I gently slid my foreskin up and down: I could feel every different texture of the inside of her hand.
It was like someone had turned the volume up loud all of a sudden.
She'd alternate between rolling her hand along my glans like this, and jacking my shaft, rapidly bringing her fist up to the rim of my glans and then down again.
Before long I was moaning and panting. I kept my hand braced on her arm so that I could slow it down when the sensations became too intense.
She continued to masturbate me, with one hand keeping my foreskin pulled back, and the other stroking my cock, until I suddenly began spurting semen all over the bed, her hand, and arm.
I'd never cum like that before – not only had I been more of a 'dribbler' in the past, but I was also used to my orgasms building gradually rather than hitting suddenly.
As she hugged me and helped me come down from my orgasm, Catherine said: “It would feel that good every time if you were circumcised.”
Other experiments followed. One time, while we made sex in the missionary position, Catherine said:
“What would you rate the feeling of this sex out of 10?”
“I don't know, 8?”
She laughed, “Okay, well let's just call it 5 as a baseline. Now, here,” – with some clumsiness, she reached down pulled my foreskin back tight.
I thrust – as well as I could with her hand between us – and was instantly surprised at how different it felt. It's a bit hard to describe, but it was like I could feel the entire warmth of her vagina all at once, and more intensely from the start to finish of my stroke. It was a bit like the first time I'd had sex without a condom.
“So what would you rate this?”
“Fuck... like, 18?”
“We should buy a cock ring to see if it helps keep your foreskin out of the way during sex.”
“I think for sure. For sure, for sure.”
Catherine waived all of her privacy for my sake. She told me that when she looked at porn she usually did it in an incognito browser but from now on would just use the normal one, and that I had her permission to review her history whenever I wanted, so that I could see what turned her on. One day, while she was at work, I looked it over.
She mostly looked at amateur younger guys masturbating, or penetrating pretty young girlfriends – which I knew was her preferred genre – but I was struck that all of the videos she watched were of circumcised guys, with lots of close-ups showing off their tight circumcised erections.
I tried in good faith to see what she found so arousing about the circumcised erection. It definitely looked neat and tidy, without excess skin bunching up every which way. There was something very masculine and powerful about it; it looked like it was made with the distinct purpose of pushing itself into a vagina, like a sort of arrowhead. I had to admit that a cut penis looked bold: like it wasn't ready to go hide at any given moment.
I told Catherine all this when she got home and she nodded in agreement then opened up her toy drawer. She pulled out a realistic looking dildo about my size and gave it to me to touch and feel. I pushed my own uncircumcised penis down between my legs, and put the circumcised-looking dildo between my legs instead. I ran my fingers along it – it did feel powerful, and I liked that the transition from the the shaft to the head wasn't interrupted by a bunch of skin.
I asked Catherine if all women preferred guys circumcised. She said she didn't want to speak for all women, and that some women didn't care or didn't notice, but that, yeah, every sexually experienced women she knew certainly did. And that women hated the surprise, when getting naked with a partner for the first time, of seeing that their penis is covered by a foreskin. Catherine showed me a poll at AdamandEve.com, with a huge sample size, that had over 90% of women preferring circumcised partners. She also pointed out that all dildos are modeled after circumcised penises for a reason: the shape feels better in women's vaginas that one that had random skin getting in the way. Kind of an obvious design flaw, right?
Catherine's matter-of-fact generalization was confirmed when I started to pay attention to a lot of the shows we'd watch. An episode of Sex in the City where all of the girls – except for slutty Samantha – express how grossed out they were by uncut cocks. An Amy Schumer standup special where she details a woman's surprise to encounter a one night stand who wasn't circumcised – which had the crowd howling in laughter. And a comedy movie called Bad Moms that had single women discussing how horrified they'd be to come across an uncircumcised penis. Publicly, women kept the preference to themselves; but in popular media, the truth came out.
Once I started to think about it, it fit perfectly with my own experience. I remembered a lot of strange looks on first getting naked with a new partner. I'd never known what to make of them. I realized that maybe it wasn't normal for women to be not-that-into giving oral sex – that maybe it was just the prospect of putting their mouths around a wrinkly pucker of skin that was putting them off.
There was also no doubt that foreskin made condoms more difficult, which had resulted in me avoiding an encounter or fumbling through it more than once. It only occurred to me now that a condom would slide onto a circumcised erection easy and snug.
I wondered, finally, if my foreskin had interfered with intimacy, not just between me and Catherine, but between me and every other girl I'd been with. I hated the idea that there was a skin barrier – like a condom – always coming between me and my partner. I hated that the head of my cock wasn't always in full contact with the walls of her vagina, like we were missing out on everything that sex could be. I was starting to feel jealous of guys who'd been circumcised as babies and never had to deal with all of the issues that came along with a foreskin.
I opened Catherine's bedside drawer, took out her lube, and filled the palm of my hand. I lay on our bed, pulled back my foreskin with one hand, and stroked my shaft and head with the other. I imagined myself circumcised, with Catherine on her back, my bare glans sliding into her pussy, parting her labia. The friction, as I had to push through the resistance of her vaginal lips during each thrust. And, then, feeling her completely. Feeling every ridge, every contour, of her vaginal walls as I slid in, and then every ridge as I slid out, without my glans being swallowed up into my own foreskin. My cock felt so firm and solid in my hands. So tight. I imagined how my body would look in the mirror. I'd look so much more manly. I came quickly, never letting my foreskin go slack, and jetted semen across our sheets.
I texted Catherine after: “I think I'm really starting to want to be cut.”
“I'm glad you're sorting out your thoughts on this!”
Then, “Don't think about it as getting cut. That sounds so harsh. It's more like a trim.”
Then, right after: “you'd look so hot trimmed.”
After that day, we entered a new phase, when we both really started to think through and commit to the prospect of my being circumcised. Catherine was cautious; she wanted to be sure I knew what I was getting into, that I was making the decision for myself, and not just for her. She pointed out how sensitive my glans would be for months after the procedure as I got used to being circumcised. She reminded me that circumcision was permanent: once a guy has his foreskin cut off (or “trimmed”), it was definitely never growing back! She reminded me that, post-circumcision, the sensations would be all-new. I'd have to get used to how tight my erections felt, especially where the head met the shaft.
I brought up the expense of the procedure as a possible consideration but Catherine said she'd be more than happy to pay for it.
We didn't only discuss the cons. In order to make a balanced judgement, Catherine also helped me weigh the pros. Blowjobs, in particular, she said, would be night and day. Besides just the increase in frequency – since now she'd actually want to suck my cock – she'd also be able to do more. Instead of always having to reserve one hand to keep the foreskin back, she'd be able to run her tongue from shaft to tip without interruption at the same time as she was running her hands across my abdomen, or using one to finger my asshole. My glans would always be directly available for her mouth, not hidden away.
She thought that even her breath on my penis would feel exciting and new and wonderful once I was circumcised.
If the decision – which really happened progressively over a matter of months – could be isolated to a single day, then it happened one Friday night in early July. My beautiful Catherine was riding me, her full breasts, covered in sweat, swaying in front of my face, with me occasionally lifting my head to suck at each hard nipple, causing her to moan and fuck me harder. We'd been talking more about the real prospect of my being circumcised, and experimenting with keeping my foreskin back, and so she was getting more and more used to the sensation.
She'd started saying things like “your foreskin's riding up, can you keep it pulled back for a while?” And I'd try to keep it pulled back – but then we'd both get annoyed at the distraction of my hand in the way, or I'd yelp when some sudden change of angle would cause my foreskin to be pulled too tight. We tried without – the way we'd always fucked before – but this time Catherine was exasperated: “Babe, I can barely feel you when you foreskin gets all the way over the head!”
Then – she got an idea. She searched in her bedside drawer and found a cock ring that we'd ordered but never gotten around to using.
“Here, see if this helps.”
After a bit of trial and error, I got the ring to fit around the base of my shaft in such a way that it kept the foreskin pulled back tight. Catherine got on her back and I slid into her, and we both moaned in pleasure. Neither of us said anything as I thrust in an out. It felt so incredible not to have to hold the foreskin back with a hand.
“Talk to me, Catherine.”
“This feels so fucking good.”
“Tell me what you're thinking.”
“I don't know if I should.”
“I don't want to influence you.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I really want your cock to always feel this good.”
“What do you mean, babe. Say it!”
“I want you to get circumcised. I really really want you to get circumcised. I want that so fucking bad. I am so over having to deal with foreskin.”
It felt amazing and we were really going at it.
Unfortunately, shortly after that, the cock ring began to strain. I didn't like how intense it was making my cock feel – like it was going to burst – and it was also putting a lot of pressure on the small band of tissue connecting the shaft and the foreskin.
“Fuck, babe, we need to stop... my foreskin's going to tear.”
Catherine was audibly frustrated. Sex was finally feeling good.
“Would that really be so bad??”
We stopped and I discarded the ring. We took a break to cool down and drink some water, before returning to our usual pleasant but unspectacular foreskin-covered sex.
Lying in bed after, I made my decision. I turned to Catherine.
“If you pass the bar exam, I'll get circumcised.”
I'd left myself an ounce of uncertainty in case fate wanted to make itself clear, but knowing she was a hard worker and very likely to pass the exam, this made it all but certain I would soon be cut.
I continued: “I love you and want our sex to be as amazing at it can be. I don't know why I've made such a big deal about losing my foreskin. Most guys in North America are circumcised and they seem perfectly happy about it. I'm ready to finally get it over with.”
She looked at me and could tell I was serious. She kissed me and then whispered: “Thank you. I know you're going to love being circumcised.”
4. Making Arrangements
Straightaway, we decided to book my consultation at a private clinic, so that when the time came I'd be ready.
The check-up went without incident. I stripped nude, and the doctor rubbed my foreskin between her thumb and index finger, and then rolled it back as far as it could go. She told me I had a fair amount of redundant foreskin and that she could certainly see what I'd want to be circumcised. Out of curiosity, I asked her whether it was usual for guys my age to be circumcised as adults.
She said that, yes, there had been a huge increase in men doing it for cosmetic reasons and for heightened sexual sensation. She said that as mothers, many women in the 90's had felt misgivings about circumcising sons without consent, but that as sexual beings, women's preferences for circumcised partners hadn't changed at all from being very much in favor of circumcised. There had also been scientific developments that confirmed the health benefits of being circumcised, which resulted in organizations like the APA upgrading their support for circumcision. All of this resulted in many uncircumcised men born in the 80s and 90s deciding as adults that they'd rather be circumcised than not and getting it done.
We discussed the particular cut I would have – “high”, in that lots of the sensitive inner foreskin would be retained, and “tight”, in that there wouldn't be much loose skin left behind (why get circumcised if you're going to leave loose skin behind??). I booked the procedure for the day after Catherine was due to receive the results of her exam.
The ensuing weeks were difficult. I was stressed about my likely upcoming surgery. Catherine was stressed about her upcoming exam. The mood was sometimes tense.
I remember one exchange that left me feeling put out. I was airing some of my uncertainties out loud, wondering if maybe there was a reason boys were born with foreskin, whether I'd miss mine if it was gone.
She rolled her eyes at me. “The last thing you need is a foreskin. A foreskin is very very low on the list of things that are important in your life. There's a zero percent chance you'd miss it.”
We fought, sometimes bitterly. I began to question whether someone who would motivate to undergo unnecessary surgery really had my best interests at heart, and considered moving out and back in with my mother. I was actually getting pretty worried about what I'd do for money, because I had become so used to Catherine paying for everything.
I remember the day Catherine came back from the bar exam, looking defeated: “well, looks like the universe wants you to keep you foreskin. I totally bombed it. There's no chance I passed.”
I did take it as a sign that I was meant to keep my foreskin. For a little while, we just settled back into our old routine: sex that was cozy and pleasant, if not earth-shattering. We both felt a bit distant from one another as we tried to evaluate our future. She was even having doubts about being a lawyer after all.
Then one day she got an e-mail that her result was available online. She passed! We kissed and hugged as we celebrated.
Then she pulled away, remembering.
“Babe... you're supposed to be getting circumcised tomorrow!”
I was surprised too. It had completely left my radar. Without a deposit, I'd figured I'd probably no-show and it wouldn't be a big deal.
“You don't have to go if you don't want to.”
I thought for a minute. “I said I would and I will. I'm just getting my head around it.”
We spent the night in the bedroom. She took a few photos of my penis up close so that we'd have a “before” photo to compare with after.
We had sex. My final night of sex as a man who hadn't been circumcised. This time, we didn't use the cock ring or even try to keep the foreskin back. We let it swish back and forth as I slid in and out – it actually felt kind of relaxing. I could appreciate the effect more now that it wasn't the norm... the blossoming of the head out of its foreskin into the vagina, and then then back again. Catherine even gave me a special treat – an enthusiastic blowjob, sliding her tongue inbetween my foreskin and glans while she stroked my shaft. This time, I didn't cum inside her. She gave me a handjob using a loose grip, so that my bunched up foreskin rolled up and down my glans, and I spurted out drops of semen all over both of us and the bed.
Before falling asleep, I tried to remember the moment, and gazed at my beautiful girlfriend, reclining on our bed, her large full breasts rising and falling with her breath, and her belly and hairy vulva shimmering in the moonlight, marked by my drying semen. I was so lucky to have her, and so in love.
5. The Procedure
I woke up and took a shower. I held my foreskin between my fingers and almost felt bad for the little guy. I considered masturbating one last time using my foreskin but I was feeling too anxious.
Catherine drove me to the clinic, and we waited in silence in the waiting room until an assistant brought me in. We asked if Catherine could be there and she said that would be okay. I got into the gown, and then the doctor came in, took a quick look that everything was okay, and then gave me some anesthetic, poking at my foreskin until I told her I couldn't feel anything.
She explained that she would be circumcising me using a the freehand method – just using some forceps and special medical scissors. She said that she would prefer to circumcise me with something called a gomco clamp – the same device they use when circumcising infants – but that medical manufacturers had not started making them large enough to use on adults. She said she hoped that the increase in demand for adult circumcisions would result in their produce larger gomco clamps, so that adults getting circumcised like me could have perfect circumcisions, just as though we were snipped as babies.
She assured me, however, that she was very good at the freehand method, having circumcised many young men like myself, and that it would very difficult for anyone to tell I hadn't been circumcised as an infant, so I probably wouldn't have to worry about explaining to anyone why I hadn't been circumcised until only recently.
Soon, I was lying on my back. The assistant used two forceps to keep my foreskin fully stretched out. Then, the doctor took the scissors, opened them, and placed them right at the edge of my foreskin, one blade under and one blade on top. She steadied herself momentarily before proceeding.
I realized I had about one second to say something or I'd be circumcised forever.
Before I could even fully process this thought, the doctor had begun cutting. Snip, snip, snip – until she'd cut a line right through my foreskin.
I was being circumcised. No going back.
Then, she began cutting around the circumference of my cock, the foreskin now just hanging off, until one final snip severed it completely, and it fell into the doctor's hand.
From my angle on my back, I had a perfect view to see as, she tossed my former foreskin into a medical waste bin.
My foreskin had met the same fate that millions of North American foreskins had met before it. I was just going through something that almost all North American boys get out of the way at birth, at the request of conscientious and loving mothers who don't want them to have to remember the process, like I would.
I could feel some tugging and discomfort as the doctor stitched me up, but it went by surprisingly quickly. I'd say, start to finished, it took under ten minutes for me to get circumcised.
She put on some bandages, gave me some instructions, and then sent me off on my way. And just like that I'd been circumcised.
6. Happily Ever After
Even before I'd fully healed, Catherine proposed to me. She told me she had become sure I was the man she wanted to be her husband, she loved me, and she wanted us to be together forever. In tears, I said “yes”, and we kissed one another.
At a check-up just days later I was told I was fully healed. After getting back, I examined myself in the mirror again. Between the working out I'd started doing, and the circumcision, my body looked so different, so strong. I looked so manly compared to the boyish physique I remembered.
I ran my fingers across the newly bare head of my penis. It was so strange to think it would never again be covered up. Just the thought that I was finally circumcised and would soon penetrate Catherine properly and fully caused my penis to swell. It felt so different! Catherine was right: my erection felt incredibly tight, especially where the head connected to the shaft. Looking at it in the mirror, its appearance was almost comically aggressive. But it looked incredible.
I turned and grab the lube from the drawer, and ran my hand over my shaft. I could feel every contour, and no longer had to awkwardly hold the skin back. There was an incredible feeling of tension seeming to keep the skin on my shaft pulled tight to the base of my cock. I had to stop myself from orgasming – I was saving that for Catherine – and stuffed my cut erection back into my shorts.
I reflected then that circumcision wasn't some medical procedure at all, the way doctors in North America talked about it. There really was something tribal and inherently powerful about it. Men were just better off circumcised.
Catherine had been out of town for a week on business but was coming back that night. She had no idea I'd been given the go-ahead to resume sex.
I picked her up at the airport that evening, and told her in the SUV while we were driving back. She looked at me with surprise, and then a smile spread across her face.
"So tonight we can...?"
"Yes, tonight's the night."
Instantly, she was all over me, kissing me neck, running her hands along my crotch. As soon as I got hard, she moved her hand to the outline of my glans, circling around it.
"Oh my god, I can totally feel it."
"Take it easy, babe, we're almost home!"
As soon as we got in the door, she hurried me to the bedroom and we both rushed to get naked. By the time she'd unhooked her bra and dropped her panties, I was already nude and erect, my circumcised penis jutting straight out in front of me. Catherine gazed at me, taking it all in.
"You look AMAZING!"
She walked to me and dropped to her knees, running her hands along my sides, and took my erection into her mouth all at once.
This was so different than what I was used to; even when women did give me oral, it was always after carefully examining my dewy glans to make sure there was no debris hiding under the foreskin. Just another benefit of having a clean, dry, cock, I thought to myself: women know they're good to wrap their mouths around it whenever they want.
In comparison to the dryness of my cockhead, her mouth felt wet and amazing. And she was right about it being night and day – she slid her mouth up and down my cock, and then pulled back and used her saliva as lube to jack me off from the base of my shaft up and over the head. That would've never been possible with the foreskin there. But I stopped her, telling her I didn't want to wait any longer before fucking.
She hurried to the bed and spread her legs.
I climbed on to the bed, kneeled between her legs, and positioned my cut cock at the entrance of her vagina. She lifted her head straining to see my cut cock penetrate her for the first time.
I ran my erection up and down her pussy, and circled my glans around her clit. Her vagina was wet and pouting open for me.
She moaned: "just fuck me already".
I slid inside her, and could feel my glans opening up her vagina, pushing past her lips on each side.
Once I was inside, I could feel her distinctly, I had a very good sense of where my glans was located inside of her vagina.
It was new and different. It was like the best part of penetration previously, but all the time. I think my eyes nearly glazed over from pleasure.
I thrust in and out. Both of us were silent except for our grunts and moans.
We felt so close together. Like we'd never been this close. We kissed passionately.
I'd never heard Catherine make the sounds she was making. It was like she was in heat.
I told her how close I was and she told me not to hold back, to cum as soon and as hard as possible.
I pushed all the way inside, she wrapped her legs around me, and I ejaculated with my bare glans pressed directly against her cervix, no foreskin getting in the way.
We lay beside one another on the bed panting.
"You're the best boyfriend ever. Holy shit."
"Fiance. Husband soon."
"Yes, my beautiful circumcised husband. Now you just have to promise me you'll make lots and lots of babies with me."
"I think I can do that."
The final milestone came the following Summer, on a June evening having drinks of the patio with one of Catherine's newer girlfriends. She was on a rant about a date she'd been on recently, in which she'd been pretty excited to sleep with the guy, gotten back to his apartment, gotten naked with him, only to find that his cock looked like some sort of albino elephant trunk. And that he expected her to put her mouth around it. The story was hilarious and Catherine was laughing along with her, as her friend was saying that she was thinking at the time: “FML, why does the worst shit happen to me?!”
Then, all of a sudden, she stopped herself and looked at me: “– wait, you're cut right...?”.
“Yeah, I'm circumcised.”
Saying the words felt strange – but powerful. It was the first public confirmation of my membership in my new tribe. I was circumcised. I am a circumcised man. There is no foreskin covering my penis. My head is entirely exposed. I am very happily and very tightly circumcised, like most North American guys.
Catherine's friend looked relieved: “okay, good! I was thinking that if you were uncut I'd sound like such a bitch and I'd have to pretend like I really don't care either way.”
I laughed and told her that I knew all about it and she could say whatever she wanted around me, and so she went on with her story about the uncut guy she'd (sort of) hooked up with.
Later on, the friend mentioned that, despite her feelings about foreskins for sex, she wasn't sure if she'd snip a son: “it seems so cruel! And what if he wants to keep it? If you guys are having a boy, would you have him circumcised?”
I looked at Catherine, unsure what she'd say. We'd never talked about this. I knew that generally speaking she was very liberal. But I also knew she was a sexual woman who took sexual factors into consideration and had no difficulties maintaining strong opinions. I couldn't read her behind her sunglasses as she considered the question.
She answered: “Absolutely yes. I feel strongly that it's irresponsible to leave boys uncircumcised. There's tons of evidence now that shows being circumcised is healthier, and it's also just way better for sex. Yeah, it makes masturbating a bit harder, but that's what lube is for. Any and all boys we have will be circumcised, like Josh is.”
I had nothing to add.