We were talking about your uncircumcised dick. She’s never seen one with so much skin and was asking why I don’t get you circumcised. I told her you were getting clipped when we get home and she can come watch.
There’s something about the process of taking away a man’s foreskin that fascinates women.
I remember when my future wife first asked me to get circumcised for her I brought up the topic with a couple of female coworkers to get their thoughts about it. Both were cautious at first but supported my wife’s position that I should go to the doctor and have my foreskin removed. Once they got comfortable with the topic, however, they opened right up, explicitly telling me about how much less sensitive I’d be once my foreskin was gone, about how much better it feels for the girl when there’s no foreskin to get in the way, about how being circumcised makes a man seem more masculine to them, and about how great they thought it was my wife was willing to insist I make this sacrifice for our relationship.
After I finally decided to do as my future wife wanted and give up my foreskin I stopped raising the subject with them. For weeks we didn’t talk about it until one day, when I was alone on a shift with one of them, she finally blurted out, “so have you done it yet? Have you gotten circumcised?” When I told her I had, a few days before, the excitement and curiosity she’d obviously been struggling to contain over the past weeks boiled over. She peppered me with questions about what my last days with a foreskin had been like, what it was like at the doctor’s office, if I’d been scared before the procedure, what the doctor thought of me still having a foreskin at my age, how much it’d hurt, what sort of table he put me on for the procedure, whether I’d been sedated or strapped down or held down at all to keep me still, if I could see what was happening to me during the procedure, how much the doctor cut off, what tools he used, what it was like afterwards, if it still hurt, what it felt like emotionally to have that skin gone now, whether I could tell yet how much less sensitive I’d become, and what it was like to have the head rubbing against my boxers all day. As I answered her questions I couldn’t help but notice the way her excitement and interest peeked when I described the painful parts of the procedure, the way I could already feel my knob becoming rougher, or the way the doctor had looked disapprovingly at my frenulum before assuring me he’d completely remove it during the procedure. She was particularly interested to hear me describe the way I was struggling to come to terms with the permanence of it all; with the way a part of my body had been taken away forever, that I could never get my foreskin back, and that sex would never be the same for me. She caringly, yet somewhat firmly, assured me that it was all for the best, that I needed to just accept what had been done to me, and that circumcised men always learn to use what remains of their penis so I would too. The conversation finished with her saying, “well I’m soooo happy for your wife. She’s just going to love it once it’s all healed up.”
I never did tell the other coworker about my experience but I could tell there was no need. From the way the two of them whispered together while stealing glances at me, grinning knowingly, I could tell she’d heard all about it. I only wish I could have known what it was they were whispering to each other like that. If they were curious about what it looked like now, if they were wishing they’d got to see it happen, or if they were laughing at me for what I’d lost.
I think their preoccupation with the details of what’d been done to me was incredibly telling about the fascination women have with taking away a man’s foreskin in general. The power it offers over his sexual function seems to give them a rush that is hard to match any other way.
Very hot.
circluvr 