Date: Thu, 24 Nov 2011 06:28:31 -0800 (PST)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Keyhole in Time (Revised)

Keyhole In Time
By Jackinnm1@yahoo.com

	The moment of revelation came as a shock. It was almost beyond
belief, because I and everyone else on the planet had been brought up to
believe that the past was absolutely fixed and never could be
changed. Suddenly, poring through Professor Morrison's notes suggested that
maybe, just maybe, I could affect something in my past.

	My housemate and I had both been born 50 years ago, and like most
American boys born at that time, had been strapped down and circumcised
without anesthesia, routinely, thoughtlessly, and irrevocably. One of the
many feelings Matt and I shared was deep resentment over our mutilations.

	Each time we had sex or saw each other naked, we were reminded that
ever since we could remember we'd had those thick brown scars on our pricks
instead of foreskins. We'd grown up envying the few boys we'd known who had
been left intact, and regretting that we had been unlucky. As adults, we'd
heard of some of the thrills, such as docking, available to those lucky
enough to have foreskins, and we envied the natural guys more than we could
ever express.

	Our pricks were about the same length, six inches erect, and about
five inches in circumference. This made us pretty average. We both had
straight shafts, mine with a vein running down the right side, while Matt
had a prominent vein on top. One difference between our pricks were that
mine had a large helmet-shaped glans with a high flaring rim, while Matt's
had a front dome much like mine but his rim didn't flare out at the top
like mine did. Our pricks were what I call "heavy-ended," and they swung
from side to side as we walked. Matt's orifice was a long slit, while mine
was a slit when soft and a pouting teardrop-shaped orifice when
swollen. Our tips both had a dry, leathery texture, instead of the glossy
look that we'd seen on uncut guys, and we knew our pricks were less
sensitive than those with the glans kept protected and moist by foreskins.

	Matt's circumcision scar was thinner than mine and about an inch
back on his shaft, connected to the vee-groove under the head by a thick
frenulum, or gee-string. My scar was thicker and darker, and closer to the
head. The doctor who had removed my foreskin had also amputated my
gee-string. As a result I had a deep triangular groove under my helmet
where my gee-string used to be. In the shower, I had the showerhead on a
long hose, and I'd use it to direct the spray between my buttocks for a
final rinse. When I did this, some of the needle jets would hit in my
triangular groove, providing a very erotic sensation. I masturbated myself
to orgasm a few times using the shower spray. Later, I found that more
intense sensations were possible.

	The biggest difference between our pricks was visible when we were
limp. Matt's penis was bigger than mine then. Mine was a "grower," small
when limp and growing to almost twice its size with erection. During cold
weather, my prick shrank to less that three inches limp. Matt's prick was a
"shower," almost five inches long when limp but swelling only slightly to
its full six inches as it stiffened with erection. In the locker room the
crotch-watchers turned their eyes to Matt's penis rather than mine.

	My scrotum hung down to the tip of my prick. Matt's scrotum was the
same size but didn't reach the end of his glans because his prick was
longer than mine when limp. We both found our sccrotums contracting and
tight against our bodies when we were very aroused and about to reach
climax.

	We had no complaint about what Nature had given us. We resented,
however, the doctors and the medical meddling that resulted in our
mutilations.

	Matt and I enjoyed stroking each other's pricks, anointing them
with Astroglide because our lack of foreskins made lubrication essential. I
secreted very little natural lubricant, and absolutely needed the
artificial lube, while Matt secreted somewhat more when excited, perhaps
because he still had his gee-string. We also enjoyed sixty-nine and
Princeton, in which one would slip his condom-covered prick between the
other's thighs. Of course, the inside of the condom was lubricated with
Astroglide, our favorite water-based lubricant.

	Matt worked as an insurance adjustor and I was a sort of
administrative assistant to Professor Morrison, head of the physics
department at the university. Morrison was widely known for groundbreaking
theoretical work, especially in refining the concept of the space-time
continuum. He'd published a theoretical paper on time travel, a collection
of equations I found incomprehensible, but as far as anyone knew had never
done anything practical.

	One evening a drunk had crashed his vehicle into Morrison's, and
the professor was taken to the hospital with a broken back. When I arrived
the professor was conscious and he put me in charge of his office until he
returned to work, which would be weeks or months. His spine had been
damaged but the doctors explained that new treatments made a full recovery
possible, although this would take many months.

	My work at the university wasn't very demanding, especially as I
wasn't qualified to teach any of Morrison's classes. I answered routine
inquiries and processed paperwork, filling in the time by perusing some of
Morrison's files. One of these clarified a matter about which I'd been
wondering for years. Morrison's laboratory was in the basement under his
first-floor office, and he'd always kept it locked. He had never told me
what project or projects he'd been running and I knew better than to ask
him about something he clearly considered none of my business.

	Morrison had built a prototype time machine, and the details were
clearly laid out in the file. It wasn't a practical model, in his
estimation, because it opened up a window, only a couple of inches in
diameter, into the past. This was too small to admit a person, or even a
laboratory animal larger than a mouse. He felt that sending a mouse into
the past was hardly an accomplishment, and Morrison had abandoned further
work on his project some years ago.

	Most of the file was a series of equations, and my mind wandered as
I leafed through the pages. It was then that it hit me. The machine had
controls for navigating through time and space. The time machine's range
was about a century, twice my age, and I could watch my birth. A second
later I realized that I would be able to watch my circumcision. A second
after that I realized that I might be able to prevent my circumcision.

	The key to the basement was in a desk drawer. I had lots of time to
spare and I took the file with me when I went into the basement, having
left a note on the office door. If any urgent matter came up I had my pager
on my belt.

	It didn't take very long to power up the machine, and I began
working the controls to take it into the past. I knew the date on which I'd
been born, and I knew where. Finding the hospital wasn't very difficult but
once inside, and being able to navigate using only a two-inch window, or
keyhole, into the past made finding the right room very tedious. The first
day I found only my mother's hospital room, and I saw her holding
me. Apparently I'd been born only hours before.

	This first effort was so time-consuming that I had to shut down and
get back to the office before anyone missed me. As I climbed the stairs I
thought about what I would do when I zeroed in on my circumcision. I had to
stop it, but how? Anyway, I had the weekend to ponder this.

	When I got home Matt was already naked and it was clear that he was
horny. He sat in front of the TV watching a European video in which none of
the guys were circumcised. I disrobed and sat with him to enjoy the flick,
as I knew that watching uncut guys getting it on was always inspiring and
erotic for us. I wrapped my fingers around his Astroglide-covered prick as
he squirted a few drops of lubricant on mine, working me up to hardness as
he massaged the viscous fluid into my tissues. He already had a towel
spread on the sofa and we didn't have to worry about staining the
fabric. We slowly worked each other up until Matt said to me:

	"Well, ready to come?"

	"I sure am. What about you?" I saw that his balls were tight
against his body, as were mine.

	"I am," he replied.

	"Well, suppose you go first. You've been sitting here longer than
I."

	"Okay, do me." Matt stopped stroking my prick as I increased speed
on his, my fist traveling the length of the shaft and glans. I felt his
body tense and knew that he was tightening up to help bring on his
orgasm. We'd discussed this and I knew that both our pricks had been
desensitized by circumcision, and that we had to tighten our crotch muscles
to attain orgasm.

	Matt's breathing became heavier, and I knew that he was straining
to reach orgasm. I gave him some help by twisting my fist around his
mushroom on each up-stroke to work on the nerves in the groove and rim. I
watched his pink glans become purple as it swelled further between my
fingers. His stomach muscles tightened as he began grunting, and I knew
he'd be unloading within seconds.

	Matt's outstretched legs jerked as I felt the first throb of orgasm
in his prick. A thick rope of cream shot up from his long slit, wetting the
towel under him, and the heavy odor of chlorine filled the air. His prick
throbbed again as another gush spurted up from his straining tip. Matt
grunted in pure joy as another load erupted from his purple head. His lips
were drawn back and his legs jerked again as I felt another heavy throb in
his turgid penis. Now the force of his jets relented, and within seconds
his tip was merely dribbling. I began wiping him with a corner of the towel
as his body relaxed and he sank into the daze that follows orgasm.

	After a couple of minutes Matt was revived enough to resume
stroking my prick. I concentrated on the sensations of his warm fist
sliding up and down my pole from the base to the helmet. It felt hot, but I
knew that like Matt I had to tighten my crotch muscles to reach the
peak. Matt cupped my balls with his other hand, adding to my
sensations. The video was still running and I watched a European guy
stroking his long foreskin up and down his glossy engorged tip as the jets
erupted from his pouting slit.

	It took several minutes but then I was there. My prick strained and
the engorged purple helmet ached for relief . My eyes closed as they always
do before I come. Matt's fist twisted hard around my straining tip and I
felt the first heavy shock of orgasm deep inside me. I felt a torrent of
hot cream rushing up my tube and I cried out in relief as the heavy
pounding began. My body shuddered as the second spasm sent another gush of
semen into my straining prick. I was really into it now, and I grunted and
groaned in sweet agony as the flood filled my tube. The next convulsion
wasn't as hard and my orgasm tapered off into a steady dribble. I felt
Matt's tongue lapping at the front dome of my helmet, removing the cream.

	"Neither of us comes as fast as we used too," I heard him say. "We
need a lot of friction." I drifted off to sleep thinking of his words after
we'd gone to bed.

	Over the weekend I came up with a tentative plan to save my
foreskin. Now I was eager to find out if it would work.

	Monday morning was busy and it wasn't until lunch that I was able
to spend some time in the basement. I figured I'd have a couple of hours,
as many of us took late lunches. This time I was able to place the window
in the hospital room immediately, and was able to see and hear what was
happening. I advanced the time one day, and after a few minutes a nurse
came in to say:

	"We'll be taking him in for his circumcision first thing in the
morning. He's too young to feel pain. (Little white lie) Just so you know."
My mother asked her:

	"Does he really need to be circumcised? My husband isn't." I
remembered that my father had been intact, and how as a young child I'd
wondered why his prick had skin on it while mine didn't.

	"Of course he does. His foreskin is so long and tight that he's
having difficulty urinating, and this could cause an infection." (Big
whopper of a lie.)

	After hearing this I moved to the next morning and watched as the
doctor and nurse came into my mother's room.

	"We'll be circumcising Jack now," he told her. "He really needs to
have his foreskin removed because it's so tight he'll never get it back for
cleaning. (Another whopper.) The nurse will bring him back to you in a few
minutes." I knew this was the doctor who had not only cut off my foreskin,
but also amputated my frenulum, quite needlessly. He'd butchered me!

	I took my pen out of my pocket and moved the keyhole to where I
could read the chart hanging at the foot of my mother's bed. In the middle
of the page was the notation: "Circumcision 8 A.M." I pushed the pen
through the keyhole and drew several lines through it. This proved I could
squeeze a material object through the window. My plan would work!

	Now I began searching for the room where doctors performed
circumcisions. After a few minutes I found it. A baby was strapped to a
padded Y-shaped board with his legs spread and the doctor stood in front of
him, a tray of instruments to his right. Was that really me, or another
baby? I moved in closer to read the name on the baby's bracelet. It was
mine. I noticed also that I had a long, luxurious foreskin, a tempting
target for the knife-happy doctor.

	I moved the window up again, realizing that the window was
invisible to those being observed, as otherwise the doctor would have
noticed it moving close to the baby. Now the doctor picked up a small clamp
and was about to clamp the edge of my foreskin. I realized that I had to
stop him right now! I plucked a pen from my shirt pocket, moved the window
close to the doctor's right eye, and jabbed hard, knowing that the pen
would go through the window as it had nefore. The doctor recoiled from the
jab, clapping a hand to his face. Blood seeped from between his
fingers. The nurse ran up to him as he collapsed. For the moment, my
circumcision had been stopped. I didn't feel badly about injuring the
doctor, as he had been preparing to injure me seriously. My plan had
worked! I advanced the time quickly to see what the reaction would be.

	Nothing happened for a half hour, and then another doctor entered
the room and approached the baby on the table. I saw that I wasn't out of
danger yet. As he picked up a clamp I moved in and jabbed him in the eye,
harder this time. With a yell, he clutched his face and collapsed. This
time another doctor and a nurse helped him to his feet, and I heard the
nurse say:

	"Maybe we shouldn't circumcise this kid. Look at what happened,
twice."

	"I can't explain it," the second doctor replied as they helped the
first from the room.

	I advanced the time again until I saw a nurse remove the baby from
the table and take him out of the room. Returning to my mother's room, I
saw the nurse hand her the baby and say:

	"There was a problem scheduling the circumcision this
morning. We'll try again tomorrow morning." That was another typical white
lie the nurse told, just as she'd told my mother I was too young to feel
pain. Now I realized that it was time to get back to the office, and I shut
down the machine, carefully noting the readings on the dials. I wrote them
in my pocket notebook to save time the next day.

	My heart was beating quickly as I entered the office. I saw down to
think through the situation. I'd given myself a reprieve, but what would
happen next? The only advantage I had was that I could return to the past
as often as I wished, and I decided that I'd be better prepared
tomorrow. On the way home that afternoon I bought an electronic stun gun.

	I left for lunch a few minutes early Tuesday morning, as I'd seen
that it was a slow day. I quickly zeroed in on the day after the attempts
at circumcising me, and again saw my younger self strapped to the board, my
long-foreskinned penis on display. Now an older doctor came in, and I
assumed he was the head of the department or the hospital director.

	"I don't know what happened here yesterday, but I promise you that
right now this foreskin's going to come off," he said to the nurse standing
beside him. "In five minutes his glans will be permanently exposed." I was
better prepared this time, and as he picked up a clamp I moved in right
behind him and touched the probes of the stun gun to the back of his
neck. He dropped like a rock without making a sound. I withdrew o a corner
and watched the alarmed nurse helping him struggle to his feet. The stun
gun was disabling but did not cause permanent injury.

	"I don't know what happened just now, but I'm going ahead with it,"
he said. I quickly moved in behind him and zapped him before he could reach
for an instrument. I also zapped the nurse for good measure. Again, he
collapsed, and this time he didn't get to his feet as quickly. When he did,
he left the room. The nurse recovered and took her exit too. I lingered in
the room until another nurse took me back to my mother. The medical
director came in and told my mother:

	"We won't be circumcising little Jack here." You can take him home
any time you wish." I took a deep breath and shut down the machine. Before
going upstairs I decided to unzip to look at my penis. What I saw shocked
me; I was still circumcised. However, I noticed that it looked
different. Once my mind cleared from the shock, I remembered. A new memory
had come into my mind. My mother was telling me:

 	"You weren't circumcised when you were born for some reason. When
you were three you had your tonsils out, and the doctor did it then while
you were asleep." I looked down at my penis and saw that although the
foreskin was missing it wasn't as tightly cut, and when I turned it between
my fingers I saw that the vee-groove under the head wasn't as deep because
my gee-string was still there. Apparently the doctor who'd taken out my
tonsils had not been as aggressive as the one who'd cut me as a baby.

	The afternoon passed slowly as I pondered this development. I also
remembered that several of my boyhood friends who hadn't been circumcised
at birth had suffered this at different times during childhood. At the time
doctors were waging an aggressive war against foreskins and amputating them
at any opportunity.

	Another set of memories came to me. I was taking a shower and when
I directed the spray between my buttocks and a needle jet played over my
gee-string, the sensation was intense, so much so that I got an erection. I
remembered bringing myself to effortless orgasms this way.

	That evening Matt and I got into bed and into a "69" position. We
lapped at each other's pricks until they were hard, and then Matt paused.

	"Your dick looks different," he said. "You didn't have that
gee-string under the head before and the skin on your shaft was tighter. Am
I imagining this?"

	"Don't worry about it" was all the answer I could manage, and
although this was weak and unsatisfactory it didn't stop our
love-making. We sucked each other to orgasm, one after the other, and when
my turn came I found that I didn't have to tighten my crotch muscles as
much to reach the peak. Having my gee-string made my penis somewhat more
sensitive. Matt had noticed this.

	"You came faster than you usually do," he said. "Did you enjoy it
more?"

	"Oh, yes, it was wonderful, thanks to you," I replied. Matt still
seemed puzzled when we turned over and went to sleep.

	The following morning I again left early for lunch, and downstairs
I began the laborious search for myself at age three. I didn't have a
specific date, and had to find it somehow. I began by zeroing in on the
house where I'd lived, and covering the bathroom. I saw my mother giving me
a bath at age three years and one day, and observed that I still had my
long foreskin. I also noticed that my mother had no trouble peeling it back
to wash underneath, despite what the doctor had told her when I'd been
born. I jumped forward six months, hoping to get a closer fix. This time, I
saw that my penis was circumcised. I jumped back three months, and saw that
my younger self still had his foreskin. Now I jumped forward a month, and
saw the same thing. I must have had my tonsils out between the fourth and
sixth month, and I began creeping forward, day by day.

	I'd advanced only a couple of weeks when I heard my mother tell me
as she washed me:

	"You're going to the doctor tomorrow," as if I could understand her
words. "He's going to take out your tonsils and fix your pee-pee too." I
jumped upon hearing this. Now I knew I had to go to the next day and follow
my mother to find the place where I was to be circumcised, and then
intervene again. I shut down the machine and went back to the office, where
I ate the sandwich I'd neglected in my eagerness to go downstairs.

	The following day I again left for lunch early and turned on the
time machine. Setting it to the next morning I saw my mother dress my
younger self and take me out to the car, where my father was waiting to
drive us to the hospital. I followed with the window, confident that they
couldn't see me.

	"I'll be back in the afternoon to take both of you home," he said
to my mother as she stepped out of the car at the entrance. I wondered
about my father's attitude toward my mutilation. He wasn't cut and I'd seen
that he had a long foreskin too. Why, then, did he allow it to be done to
me? My father and I had never discussed this, and it was an utter mystery
to me. As both my parents were long dead I'd never know.

	I did know that when I was a child, it was mainly middle-class
Caucasian boys who were circumcised. Black and Hispanics, as well as
dirt-poor whites, were mostly left intact, supposedly because their parents
were too ignorant, or too poor, to pay for circumcision. A circumcision on
a boy showed that his parents cared enough, and could afford, to have the
"best" for him. That was the popular culture at the time.

	Inside she checked in at the admitting desk and a nurse came out to
take my younger self from her. I knew that during the next few minutes I
was going to be really busy, but I also knew that if I couldn't finish the
job right then, there was always tomorrow.

	I followed the nurse as she took my into a treatment room where
presumably the doctor would remove both my tonsils and foreskin. The nurse
undressed me and had me lie down on the operating table. The room was cold,
and I remembered being frightened. At the head of the table stood a small
trolley with two upright gas cylinders. One had to be oxygen and I guessed
that the other was nitrous oxide, a common general anesthetic in those
days.  Atop the cylinders was a manifold connected to a corrugated rubber
hose and an anesthetic mask. Seeing this, I remembered the cool mask coming
down on my face and darkness descending over me, the odorless gas
annihilating my consciousness. Seconds later the doctor entered in surgical
scrubs and said:

	"Okay, put him under and let's get on with the show." He stared
down at my long foreskin as he spoke, licking his lips and perhaps
anticipating the circumcision more than the tonsillectomy. I'd decided
during the night that I wouldn't let anyone cut on me in any way, as I knew
that doctors had often removed tonsils unnecessarily as well as
foreskins. I heard the nurse cooing to my younger self:

	"Okay, little man, it's time for you to go to sleep. When you wake
up you'll have a really pretty penis." Hearing this irritated me, and I was
determined that she wouldn't put me into a chemical coma this time. When
she picked up the anesthetic mask I zapped her in the neck, dropping her
off her stool, and I watched her writhing on the floor. For good measure I
zapped her again, making her convulse.

	The doctor ran over to her and tried to help her up, and that's
when I zapped him too. His body collapsed over hers. I watched and waited,
and when they roused themselves and left the room, I continued to watch. I
wasn't surprised when another doctor and nurse entered.

	"I guess they both had seizures at the same moment," the doctor was
saying. "Well, let's cut that foreskin off and take his tonsils out, and
clear the room for another patient." I wasn't going to let him near me.

	Just as he finished speaking I was already in position, with the
stun gun's electrodes touching the back of his neck. I pressed the switch,
and he went down. I turned to the nurse, who was wide-eyed in
terror. Swinging behind her, I pressed the electrodes into her neck and
gave her the juice, making her collapse to the floor. The doctor was
struggling to get up, and I gave him another heavy dose, which laid him out
flat. I waited and watched, until they both had gotten up and left the
room. Minutes later my mother entered and got me dressed.

	I was aware that my prick now felt different and more sensitive. I
quickly opened my fly to see if I really had a foreskin, and was gratified
to see and feel my helmet sliding around inside a generous tube of skin. My
thick fleshy hood extended about an inch farther than my glans, forming a
thick nipple. I pulled my foreskin back and was gratified to see that the
surface of my helmet was now glossy and deep purple, instead of leathery
and pink as it had been before. The wet glans emeitted an aroma it hadn't
had before, the aroma of a natural prick. I touched its surface and my
prick throbbed at the contact because it was much more sensitive. A drop of
natural lubricant began crawling its way up my urethra. I quickly slipped
the protective hood forward again.

	A flood of new memories came to me, running parallel to my old
ones. At age four, my father came into the bathroom to teach me how to skin
back to pee standing up in a neat stream instead of a messy splatter. At
age 10, I stroked my hood up and down my glans one night to have my first
gasping, shuddering dry orgasm, instead of at age 12, in what I was
beginning to think of as my previous life. At the time, I'd been in the
bathroom and had pulled the skin of my shaft up to bump the rim. It felt
good and I kept doing it, faster and faster. A feeling of having to pee
came over me, and then my first dry orgasm hit me. My prick became
super-sensitive and my hand dropped away as my body shuddered and I saw
stars in front of my eyes.

	My new memory was that I'd been in bed and had been casually
stroking my foreskin to bring on erection, as I often did before going to
sleep. When hard, I continued, speeding up because the sensations were so
compelling, feeling the smooth skin sliding over my moist glans. When I
felt I had to pee, I ran to the bathroom and stood in front of the toilet
still stroking my foreskin. My body tensed and a glow came over me. The
first shudder hit, my legs buckled, and I came to my knees in front of the
toilet. My super-sensitive prick throbbed hard and I couldn't touch it at
all as it throbbed repeatedly. I saw stars and tears came to my eyes.

	"We just don't feel we can do this here," a doctor was telling my
mother at the door to the room. "I don't know what happened but we can't
ignore the danger to our staff." Another memory came to me, that of my
mother telling me that I was different from other boys because I hadn't
been circumcised. I realized that I now had a new set of memories of how
circumcised boys were envious of my foreskin. I remembered showing it off
to them, sliding the long hood up and down my helmet as they watched
avidly.

	I wondered how my mother had explained events to my father. When
he'd appeared to drive us home, she hadn't said anything, except to say
that things had gone "okay." I was not a party to any discussion they'd had
after they'd put me to bed.

	As I headed for home I thought about Matt. What would his reaction
be when he saw my new and pristine state? Another new memory came to me,
one of Matt slipping his hot tongue into my foreskin and running it around
my glans and frenulum, bringing me to a roaring erection. When I walked in
I saw that he had bought a bucket of fried chicken. Usually he cooked
dinner, but this evening he seemed troubled.

	"Anything wrong?" I asked as we sat down to eat.

	"We can talk about it later," he replied. "Just give me some time
to think about it." We finished the meal and went into the bedroom, where
Matt's eyes seemed fixed on me as we undressed.

	"You're not circumcised," he exclaimed as I dropped my boxer
shorts.

	"No I'm not. I'm glad I'm not. I know how you feel about
circumcision."

	"Today I somehow got confused about that," he went on. "I'm still
confused. I was thinking about what we might do this evening and suddenly I
found I remembered you as being circumcised like me, but also
uncircumcised, and it was really weird. I felt like I was in the Twilight
Zone." Then I realized what must have happened.

	"About what time did you realize you have these two sets of
memories?" I asked.

	"Around the middle of the day," he said. I realized that having my
foreskin back had not only altered my memories, but his as well, because
now he remembered me both ways. Also, the dual memories had occurred right
about the time I'd successfully prevented the second and final attempt at
cutting me.

	"Come on, sit down," I urged. "I've got a hell of a story to tell
you." He sat and as I sat beside him on the bed I poured out the entire
story for him. As I related it, his hand drifted down to my prick, stroking
my new foreskin gently over the swelling helmet. I saw that his prick was
also engorging, as this was very arousing for him. I squeezed his glans to
heighten his sensations. When I'd finished speaking he said:

	"Well, I'm really happy for you. I'm glad you escaped
circumcision. If I can't have a foreskin at least you do. It's good for me,
too, like when we first tried docking." I now recalled that incident, a new
memory. It had taken place a few weeks after we'd met, and Matt had told me
that he'd always wondered what it would be like to come with a foreskin
enveloping his mushroom. As I had enough foreskin to cover both heads we'd
tried it. I was gratified to find that now I was secreting enough natural
lube so that I didn't need Astroglide, whereas I hadn't before. Matt was so
worked up over the novel sensations that he came first, almost passing out,
and at that moment our front domes were pressed tightly against each other.

	His first ejaculation had shot directly into my large pouting
meatus, traveling a couple of inches down my tube like a hot jet, and this
triggered my spasms. I howled in ecstasy as my body responded, sending a
torrent of hot fluid searing its way up my prick. We'd been enraptured by
the sensations as we flooded my foreskin until it ballooned out, until we'd
drained ourselves. Later, Matt had been fascinated when in the shower I
pinched the end of my foreskin shut as I urinated, flushing the semen from
my urethra, glans and foreskin.

	I felt wetness at the end of my long nippled foreskin, prostate
lubricant secreted because of the erotic memory of that long-ago
incident. I was gratified that now that I was intact I was producing
natural lube as nature had intended. However, I was concerned about Matt,
who remained mutilated, and I asked him:

	"Tell me, Matt, you were cut at birth, that's what you said,
right?"

	"Yeah, that's what happened," he replied, not immediately
understanding the implications of my question.

	"Okay, then, you know your birthday, but can you tell me exactly
where you were born?"

	"Presbyterian Hospital, right here in town," he replied. Why is it
that every other hospital in the U. S. is named "Presbyterian?"

	"I know where that is," I said. "I can pay you a visit there
tomorrow." His eyes widened as understanding came to him. He hugged me
tightly, and we became aroused, he especially because the thought of
regaining his foreskin gave him a mental boost more powerful than the
physical stimulation. I felt drops of pre-cum crawling up my tube. Several
drops of clear, viscous fluid seeped from my pee-hole and one appeared at
the pucker of my foreskin.

	"You never had much lube before," Matt exclaimed. "Your cock didn't
have that man-smell before, either. I like that."

	"Right," I replied. "I'm getting more lube now that I'm intact. I
really like not having to depend on Astroglide."

	We faced each other on the bed, and I helped Matt slip his mushroom
tip inside my long, well-lubricated hood, which engulfed it right to the
groove behind the rim. I felt the hardness of his glans pressing urgently
against mine as he bucked his hips in excitement. I stroked my long hood
over his glans, feeling his penis harden even more as the final swelling
set in. My helmet was tingling, and I knew that my prick would be throbbing
within a few seconds. Matt came first. He groaned loudly as the first gush
of fluid poured uncontrollably from his prick, swirling around my helmet
and into the groove behind it. The hot fluid triggered my orgasm, and now
we were joined in mutual rapture, draining ourselves in spasms of physical
and mental relief. Our juices mixed and dribbled from under the edge of my
foreskin, which still covered his helmet completely.

	A couple of hours later I asked him:

	"Can you take off from work tomorrow and come with me? I'll need
you to identify your mother in the hospital." He said he could, and that
he'd pack a couple of sandwiches.

	The following day, while waiting for Matt to show up, I was
startled by a new memory creeping into my consciousness. Matt and I had met
another natural guy named Fred, who had a long foreskin like we did, but
had never been able to retract it. We'd had a hot mutual circle jerk and
I'd watched the hot cream seeping from Fred's tight pucker as his prick
throbbed in my hand. Matt had a foreskin in this memory! I pondered this,
and realized that my new memory had come to me because we were going to
succeed at preventing his circumcision that day!

	Fred told us he always had to sit down to pee because his urine
came out of his long nipple in a spray. He also was unable to shoot his
sperm in a long stream the way we did. Instead, it oozed out of the pucker
in his long nipple when he came. His doctor had recommended circumcision,
but Fred was reluctant to let anyone take a knife to his precious
penis. Fred had later met another intact guy who had had the same problem
but had solved it. He'd taught Fred how to insert short tubes into the
narrow foreskin orifice to stretch its diameter. Over several weeks, Fred
had used pieces of tubing of increasing diameters to gradually and
painlessly stretch the nipple, and ended up with a retractable foreskin. He
was extremely with the results, and gratified that he was able to dock us,
slipping our big tips into his now roomy foreskin.

	Matt came into the office at lunchtime and we went into the
basement where the time machine was. I cautioned him not to make any noise,
as sound would carry through the keyhole:

	"If you have to speak to me, put your lips close to my ear and
whisper." I turned on the power. Manipulating the knobs, I took us back in
time to the day he'd been born and located the room where his mother had
stayed. A nurse came in holding a baby. I closed in on the baby and we read
his wristband. It was him.

	"The doctor's aware you'd like to leave as soon as possible
tomorrow, so we're going to do your boy first thing in the morning," she
said to his mother. "You should be able to leave by ten." We both shuddered
at her words because we knew she was referring to Matt's impending
circumcision.

	"I hope you've still got the stun gun," he whispered as I turned
the knobs to advance to the next day. I nodded, and began searching the
hospital for the nursery, as I knew that there was usually a side room for
the circumcisions.

	The local time was seven in the morning, and the nursery came into
view. One nurse was saying to another:

	"We'll take this one first," pointing to a crib. "His mother wants
to take him home this morning." I adjusted the zoom and we both read the
name on the card attached to the crib. This was Matt's younger self. The
other nurse picked him up and we followed her into a little room with a
table, where she removed his diaper and strapped him to a padded Y-shaped
board like the one that had been used on me. His legs were strapped to the
arms of the Y to keep them spread and expose his genitals.

	"I've got a long foreskin too," Matt whispered in my ear.

	"That's true, but remember that almost all babies have long
foreskins. That's to allow for growth. Let's see what it looks like when
you're grown up." As I spoke a doctor and another nurse entered and
approached the table, where a tray of surgical instruments lay next to Baby
Matt.

	"Good," he said. "I always use a Gomco tray. No matter how long the
foreskin is, the Gomco will take it off in one bite, and this kid's got a
long one." Matt and I cringed upon hearing his words. "That foreskin's so
tight it's constricting his glans," the doctor said to the nurse. "He'll
look a lot better without that wrinkly skin." She nodded affirmatively, and
I wondered if she really believed that bullshit or was just keeping her
mouth shut to avoid conflict with the doctor. "Boys without foreskins tend
to have a bigger glans, and the corona flares out more," he continued. That
was false too. Matt and I had seen enough cut guys with small tips to know
that this wasn't true.

	Now he picked up a clamp and leaned over young Matt. That's when I
put the window next to his neck and zapped him with the stun gun. Like the
others before him, he dropped soundlessly to the floor. Drawing back, I saw
the nurse bending over him, a look of concern on her face.

	"Help!" she shouted. "Cardiac arrest in here!" Several nurses and
another doctor arrived within seconds, and they took the would-be
circumciser from the room. Despite the nurse's cry of "cardiac arrest" I
knew the doctor I'd stunned would be okay.

	"Now we wait," I explained to Matt. "They're bound to try again."
Minutes later another doctor and nurse entered.

	"Well, I guess I have to finish this up," the doctor
proclaimed. "This kid's got lots of foreskin. When the foreskin's that
long, the glans underneath is always bright red. Ever notice that?" The
nurse nodded. "He'll be a couple of pounds lighter after I'm done with
him," he laughed. His cavalier attitude irked me, and I knew it did Matt
too, as it was his foreskin the doctor was discussing amputating.

	Now the doctor positioned himself in front of the table, and as his
hand reached for a clamp I zapped him. He dropped straight down, his chin
hitting the edge of the table. I heard his teeth clicking together and
hoped that he'd broken or chipped a few because I was feeling vengeful. The
nurse, upon seeing this, ran out of the room in panic, yelling
incoherently.

	Soon several nurses entered, accompanied by yet another doctor, and
they carried the unconscious man out. Again we waited, until we saw another
team enter.

	"Damn! I don't know what's been happening in here, but we've got to
get this kid circumcised, and I mean pronto!" the doctor said. This time I
didn't even let him approach the table, but gave him the juice where he
stood. As he fell forward, he went face-first into a cabinet, ending up on
his back. His nose was bleeding heavily and I knew it was broken. I pulled
back from the window to let Matt have a look, and he smiled.

	"I hope this is it," I said to him. "We have to get back upstairs
soon."

	"I think it is," Matt replied, opening his fly. "My cock feels
different. Take a look." He pulled out his penis and we saw that the
mushroom head was now shrouded with a long foreskin that extended an inch
beyond the end to form a nipple, much like mine, but not as thick. I
touched the end of his foreskin, which contained many nerve endings, and a
look of pleasure came over his face. I grasped the nipple, sliding it back
over the glans and pushed it into the groove behind the rim. A manly aroma
rose to hit our nostrils. His mushroom was glossy and wet, just like my
tip, and I knew that his prick was now much more sensitive than before. The
new shape of his penis had Matt so aroused that a drop of clear lubricant
filled his meatus.

	"So that's what it feels like to be uncut," he exclaimed. "I really
like it. I think I've got more lube than before, just like you. I've got
that man-smell too." I saw that Matt's eyes opened wide as a flood of new
memories came to him, and I reached to turn off the power switch. A new
memory hit me at that point. Matt and I had met in the locker room of a gym
20 years ago because we were the only two intact males. We'd gravitated
towards each other and had ended up with adjacent lockers, and soon had
moved in together. My previous memory was that we had met at a party
several months later. We hugged fervently before heading up the stairs, and
Matt said to me:

	"I'll head on home now. "I'll stop at the store and get some food
and fix a really nice dinner for tonight."

	Dinner consisted of prime rib, with a salad, and we ate with
gusto. Matt seemed slightly anxious, and when I asked him if he were he
replied:

	"Well, I'm just impatient to try out my new foreskin." I was sure
he had many memories of our mutual foreskin play, as I remembered many
times we'd docked, sucked, and stretched our foreskins together, but
perhaps the memories weren't as vivid for him. We cleaned up and went into
the bedroom, where we hurriedly stripped.

	I've got a lot of new memories," he said as we shed our
clothing. Our heavy-ended pricks had already begun swelling, tips bulging
inside their long hoods. "Before, I remember being really envious of kids
who had skins. Now I remember the cut kids staring at me in the locker room
and most of them were envying my skin." As he spoke, I noticed a drop of
clear fluid filling the pucker of his foreskin.

	We stood facing each other, gazing at our smooth fleshy cylinders,
the prominent bulges at the ends giving a hint of what lay inside. I
reached out and ran my fingertip delicately around the pucker of his
foreskin, knowing that the sensation would be exquisite for Matt because of
the dense concentration of nerve endings there. I saw his prick continue to
engorge, the swelling mushroom stretching the long foreskin. Matt squeezed
my swelling helmet gently through the covering skin, and our pricks rose to
the occasion. Then we touched the foreskins of our now hard pricks
together. The overhangs dangled in front of our tips, exquisitely sensitive
at the end, and we played at "sword-fighting" for a couple of
minutes. Clear lubricant seeped from our orifices. Then we skinned back and
rubbed our wet, glossy tips together.

	"Let me dock you," Matt said. I knew he had enough foreskin to do
this perfectly, as my new memories included several docking experiences
with his foreskin. We lay facing each other on the bed, the domes of our
naked tips pressed together, and Matt slowly eased his lengthy foreskin
down over my flaring helmet, pushing my hood back until it bunched in the
deep groove behind my helmet. He ran a finger lightly around my flaring
corona.

	"Well, you've got as high a ridge now as when you were
circumcised," Matt observed. "That doctor was sure wrong." He began pulling
his foreskin up over my well-lubricated helmet. The warmth of his hood
excited me as he enveloped my glans, and then I pulled my foreskin forward
over his.

	"This is called 'double docking,'" I told him. "Our pricks are
really locked together now." I felt his hard front dome pressing against
mine, and soon I was thrusting gently as he squeezed our tips through the
fleshy shrouds.

	We weren't in a hurry, as we'd learned from experience that the
longer we took to attain orgasm, the more intense it would be. We kept our
crotch muscles relaxed, letting our excitement build naturally. However, we
were super-excited because of the day's events, and Matt's hard front dome
pressed urgently against mine. It wasn't long before I felt the familiar
hot tingle in my tip, and my eyes closed. I was breathing hard and when the
first spasm hit me I let out a long loud groan of joy. A jet of burning hot
cream seared its way up my urethra. I knew that my discharge was swirling
around his hot hard mushroom, and a second later Matt howled as he melted
into the sweet agony of orgasm. I felt his hot cream jetting against the
front dome of my helmet and then mingling with my fluid, swirling over my
helmet and into the groove around my flaring rim.

	Now we were both groaning and grunting as our bodies strained
against each other, our hot pricks awash in hot cream. I felt Matt's
mushroom slide over the top of my helmet, and my front dome was pressed
hard against the root of his foreskin as it continued to spit load after
load into him.

	We lay very still, savoring the moment, long after we'd drained
ourselves. This had been the most intense sexual experience of our lives,
something we'd never imagined doing until a couple of days ago. Being whole
again had brought our sexual lives up to a new plateau, and we appreciated
the gift.


The End