In Defense of Eunuchs
Saturday dawn was peaceful; my wife Valerie had gone off to coach a school soccer team, leaving me with little else to do than relax in my pajamas and slurp hot coffee while reading the paper. I sat in the living room, drenched in the sun's morning light, and inhaled the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I felt calm and relaxed, free from the hustle and bustle of the outside world. I relished my Saturday morning solitude, simply enjoying the present moment without a care in the world.
I was startled by the doorbell. Beth, a close friend, who lived just a couple of houses down the road had dropped by unannounced. As always, I greeted her with open arms and asked her to take a seat while I got her a coffee. We began to chat about our respective day-to-day lives, but soon I realized that something else was on her mind. She was troubled by something.
"Is everything OK with John?" I asked.
"Oh yes, "she said." John is off at some sports thing or other. Although this is about him in a way."
"Could I discuss a very delicate subject with you?" she asked.
My wife Valerie and I had known Beth and John for years. John and I were regular golfers. Beth and I and my wife frequently took art classes together at our local arts center. The four of us had played at a winter weekly bridge club since they had moved into the neighborhood years ago. We were all in our fifties. Valerie and I had a son; Beth and John a daughter. Both kids away at different universities. John had had open heart surgery which seemed to slow him down a bit. I'd had prostate cancer which had restricted me a lot. Our wives were in much better shape than John and me.
My wife Valerie is a fifty-year-old teacher who has a love of sports. She has been teaching for more than two decades She is particularly passionate about soccer and coaches her school's team. She loves being able to have a positive influence on young people and watching them grow both on and off the field.
Val is medium height and average weight. She had auburn hair that she keeps short, making her look fit and athletic. Her brown eyes tend to be her most striking feature and friends often remarked on the sparkle they seemed to have.
I'm Will, at fifty-eight, the oldest of our little group. I enjoy life, being married to Val, and my job. Although the prospect of early retirement does sound very appealing. My mid-level management job runs like clockwork. I am super-efficient, delegate well, and my polished people skills keep my team efficient and satisfied. So, life is not too stressful. I have many interests and hobbies which keep me happily occupied.
One big kick in the gut however was getting prostate cancer. I did not see it coming and had to get some critically grave treatment to beat it and pull through.
Between the radiation treatment and the hormone shots, I was basically impotent. The inability to have normal erectile intercourse was a handicap but Valerie and I figured it out over time. The only thing missing was vaginal penetration but that was really overcome with a variety of sex toys. Val's sexual satisfaction level is probably higher than when we used to have a "normal" sex life a couple of times a week. Even though I could not ejaculate I got extreme pleasure and satisfaction from our many more frequent sex nights.
Val and I have kept our bedroom routine very private. We don't tell anyone about it, preferring instead to keep our methods of sexual satisfaction to ourselves. We are both very private people, so this was a natural fit for us. We have never shared this with anyone else, even John and Beth.
John and Beth are an unlikely pair but a perfect match. He is a mid-fifties dentist with a practice on the outskirts of town. He enjoys watching sports, especially college football on TV. John appreciates good quality scotch whiskey, the real stuff.
He's stocky, standing at about 5'8" and tipping the scales at just over 200 pounds - a little overweight. His hair is short and neat, and he has a trimmed beard with a touch of white that gives him a friendly, almost grandfatherly look. John has an outgoing and gregarious personality and is always willing to lend an ear or offer a helping hand. He is well-known in our community for his big-heartedness.
His wife Beth is a librarian who loves literature, classical music, and art. She is about four years younger than John. She can recall stories from books with vividness and accuracy that leaves her listeners in awe. Although she is strict in her adherence to rules, she has a warm and inviting nature that makes her a popular figure in the library. Despite their differences, their conversations and company are intense and full of laughter; Val and I love to hang out with them.
Beth leaned forward in her chair.
"This topic is a bit touchy. Can I speak openly? Just a couple of questions."
"Beth, I've known you for years. There's nothing we can't discuss freely, heart-to-heart."
"You know John is going for the same treatment as you for prostate cancer. He is - we are - concerned about the effect on his -- our -- sex life afterward. I can only imagine the effect this has had on you." She paused.
"Am I embarrassing you? We don't have to talk about this if you don't want.
"No. It's OK. Things are what they are. I'm alive and living a full life and happy life. Better than the alternative." I smiled.
"When people say "erectile dysfunction," what does that really mean? No ejaculation? No hard-on, what?" she looked at me carefully as she paused. "I am embarrassing you. I know I'm embarrassing myself. You and I have never talked like this before."
"No. I'm not embarrassed. I rarely talk about this. I think it means different things to different people because the effects vary from person to person depending on how early it is detected. To be honest, in my case it means exactly that. No erection and no ejaculation. Unfortunate, but you have to live with it. It could be worse."
"So, if I touched your penis, even played with it, you would not get hard?" she asked
"I don't believe so."
"You don't believe so or you know so." She pushed.
"I know so."
"I have a request that you might find strange. A proposal that may not be acceptable." Beth hesitated, still looking straight into my eyes. "I will not be offended if you reject my suggestion outright."
"My god, Beth. It sounds like you want us to rob a bank together!" I laughed. "Or even worse, you plan to ravish me in my own living room!"
"I have no designs to violate your body, Will," she lightly assured me with a hand on my arm. "But there is one part I would like to put to the test."
"In the old days, in battlefield triage, there was a shortcut called 'test touching'. It was part of the screening process, and medics used it to see how well a soldier was feeling. It was easy to judge if he was worth the trouble of saving. When done right, it can provide information about a wounded man's health condition. The idea was to see if he responded to sexual stimulation."
"So, I'm like a wounded warrior and you want to know if I can get a hard-on?"
"Basically, yes. Would you be embarrassed if I tried that?"
"I don't think I'd be uncomfortable, but I might feel self-conscious that a beautiful lady was playing with my dick and it was not responding."
"This is very awkward, Will, but would you disapprove if I checked? There is a reason."
"OK, Beth. I don't see how this will help. Just be gentle with me."
"Could you just slip your pajamas down for a minute?" she asked.
This felt a bit weird. I knew Beth was not a crazed nymphomaniac, so it was a curious request. Since the waistband of my PJs was elastic, I was quick to ease them down below my knees.
Beth hesitated briefly, locking her focus on my docile penis.
"OK if I touch it?" she asked.
"Go ahead. I'm in your hands "I joked.
She grasped my soft dick teasing and playing around with it, flopping it from side to side. She tugged and swept it upright and cupped my balls with her other hand. After a few minutes of stroking and squeezing, she paused.
"Will, one more step. Would you just fondle my breast for a little while?" She undid a couple of buttons on her shirt, reached into her bra, and lifted out one beautiful full tit. She lifted my hand up to cup it. Surprised, I took her full breast in my hand and started to squeeze it and play with her nipple.
I really probed and caressed her tit reproducing all my choice techniques, squeezing and tugging for about five minutes, especially on her hard bud.
"You're still pretty good at this!" She gasped.
"Oh, I still practice. There's still a lot of fun to be had."
