Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2001 02:18:19
From: Erik Asman <erik2175@hotmail.com>
Subject: Brandon's Life 3: Brandon the Eunuch

     "AAAAAAiiiiiiigggggghhhhhhh!"
     Brandon's Mother looked up from the newspaper and glanced over at her
husband who was deep into the financial section.  "Dear, I think Brandon's
awake now," she said calmly, sipping at her coffee as if a blood-curdling
scream of agony were the norm for a Wednesday morning.
     "Sounds like it," he agreed, folding the paper and getting up to take a
tray of breakfast up to the convalescing boy.  "I doubt he'll be in the mood
to eat though."
     "He needs to eat," she replied, "and keep his health up so he can play
soccer with his friends."
     "You don't know if he's going to even want to anymore, dear, all things
considered."
     She thought about it for a moment, until Brandon let out another yell.
"Take him a pain pill, too, dear, and tell him not to worry and that Logan
will bring his homework by for him."
     When Brandon's father arrived at the boy's room, he tapped gently on
the door and entered with the tray of food.  Brandon was lying in bed on his
back with the covers thrown off.  Tears were streaming down his pale face
and he was shaking all over.  He lifted his head off of the pillow, just
enough to stare down at his crotch.  The Foley catheter was still in place,
the tube running out of the end of his bandaged penis and down under his
tanned thigh where it connected to a collection bottle on the floor.  The
tube was orange and red with urine mixed with blood.  Below his flaccid
penis was a bandage, covering his stitched and empty scrotum.  He looked up
at his Father with wide eyes and a slack jaw.  "I-I thought it w-was a bad
dream!" he wailed.
     Setting the tray down on top of the boy's dresser, Brandon's father sat
carefully on the edge of his son's bed, being careful of the catheter line,
and gently helped his son into a sitting position.  He handed the boy a
small blue pill from his pocket.  "Take this and then eat your food.  Then
you can go back to sleep, son.  Doctor's orders.  Stay in bed, don't move,
don't touch anything down there, and be still."  Brandon did as he was told,
although he just stared at the food once his Father had placed the tray
astride his stomach.  He just sat staring at it.
     "Please pull the blanket back up, dad," he asked.
     He did that, tucking it down just at the boy's waist, and then rose  to
go.  "Dad?" the boy asked.
     The man stopped, but didn't turn around.  "Dad, I'm sorry.  I should
have said something sooner."
     For an awkward moment, there was silence.  "Cancer isn't something you
could have done a thing about, boy," he replied quietly.
     The words struck Brandon, who had just picked up the fork.  He dropped
it in the middle of his plate and hung his head.  The pain pill hadn't had
time to take affect, and he was clearly miserable.  Although he desperately
wanted to leave and hoped that the pill would soon put his son back to
sleep, Brandon's father turned back to his son.  His only son.
      His castrated son.
      He had no idea what to say.  In fact, he never had any idea what to
say.  Over the past few years, the boy had become difficult and distant.  He
blamed it on puberty, and tried not to think about it.  And because he
didn't know what else to say, he said simply, "You need to eat, Brandon.
Keep your strength up, heal up, so you can make the soccer team again this
year."
     The boy looked up sharply at his Father, and he realized that he had
said the wrong thing.  Brandon had been unable to speak before the surgery,
and afterwards he had slept all night.  He chided himself for not being
there when the boy awoke, but what would he have done?  Held him like he did
in the surgery room?  No.  The boy had since taken to not being affectionate
some time ago.  He pulled away every time someone tried to touch him, and
with a pang of regret, Brandon's father found that he missed the little boy
who used to cling to him with every waking moment.  The only reason he had
held him then was because the boy couldn't move to pull away.  But he could
see the pain in his son's eyes, see him shaking, and he decided to risk it.
Very slowly and deliberately, he set the tray of breakfast aside and took
the boy in his arms.  He could feel the stiffness and trembling as he pulled
him into a tight embrace, but he didn't let go.  Within a minute, the boy's
resistance died and he sobbed into his Father's shoulder.
     "I-I can't be on the team now," he choked.
     "Why not?"
     "Because," Brandon explained, still not moving his head from his
Father's shoulder, "Everyone will see me.  In the sh-showers and changing
and stuff.  They'll see me and they'll make fun of me.  Why can't they just
put in fake ones, Dad?"
     "Brandon, you know what the Doctor said.  They'd have to cut your
scrotum open again and again to put them in and keep changing them out.
Over time, you'll get scar tissue and lose feeling down there."
     But Brandon, as usual, had a comeback.  "What's it m-matter if I have
feeling down there now?  I don't have much of ANYTHING down there NOW!"
     He looked deep into his son's eyes, and remembered back as to how
nervous he had been, when at age 8, Brandon had been give "the talk," "the
facts of life," "the birds and the bees."  He was almost out of his depth
here, and he knew it.  He decided to improvise, and hoped that he could
remember everything that the Doctor had told him to say.
     "Brandon, listen to me.  I know you think it's all over right now, but
here's how it is.  Almost every boy in this country is circumcised at birth.
  Most boys don't even know they even HAD what you lost.  The catheter comes
out in a month, and as far as being castrated goes, well - you can't have
kids.  Big deal.  You wanted a little brother, right ?  Well, we want
grandchildren someday, and even IF you adopt, what about when you're in
college and the house is quiet and empty?"
     Brandon thought about it.  "Who'd marry me?" he asked, deciding not to
mention that he really liked boys more than he liked girls, although he
wasn't quite sure about that.
     "A lady with kids and no man.  A lady who can't have kids.  A lady who
might think it's better to adopt ..."
     "But D-dad," the boy protested, "I-I'm a ..." he couldn't bring himself
to say it.
     "Is 'eunuch' the word you're groping for, son?"
     Dumbly, Brandon hung his head and nodded.  He didn't have much of an
appetite, and his groin felt as if it were on fire.  He desperately wished
that the pain pill would kick in.
     "Brandon, it's easy to fix.  Once you heal up, we take you back to the
Doctor.  He takes some blood, measures your hormone levels, and he gives you
patches to wear.  It's called HRT, and it puts back what you lose from
having no balls anymore.  You still get hard, you can still whack off - and
YES I know about that - and eventually, you can still have sex and enjoy it.
  It might take you longer to get off, you shoot out thinner and clearer
stuff and less of it, but you still shoot.  You just shoot blanks.  Does
that make you feel better?"
     Brandon's smile was like the sun coming up.  Then it faded.  "I can't
get naked in f-front of the guys, Dad," he mumbled, as the pain pill began
to take him.
     "Sure you can, son, and you won't need to wear a cup anymore either,
you know."
     Brandon tried to laugh, but his eyes were glazing over.  He got the boy
to drink the glass of orange juice before laying him back down and covering
him.  He tousled the boy's crew cut hair and got up to go.  "By the way,
Logan will bring your schoolwork by until you're better."
     "OH G-god, no!" Brandon murmured before he fell asleep.

     Brandon awoke sometime later that afternoon.  He remembered his orders
and didn't try to get up.  The tube in his aching penis was annoying, but it
didn't really hurt hurt.  He just hoped that he didn't get hard about
anything and blow any of the stitches which ringed his shaft about midway
between cock head and body.  He sighed and picked up his TV remote.  His
stomach growled, and his mouth was dry.  "MOM!" he shouted, immediately
wishing that he hadn't.  He winced, but stomach still insisted on food.  He
flipped through channels and waited.
     She came up a few minutes later with another tray of food.  Brandon
glanced at his watch, and saw that it was time for school to be out.  He
didn't remember what his Father had said.  As he thanked his mom and began
to attack his food, she mentioned it.  "Honey, Logan will be by after school
with your homework.  He's worried about you, you know.  He even called at
lunch hour."
     Brandon choked and shot soda out his nose.  As he tried to recover,
with his Mom wiping at his face, he protested.  "What did you tell him?" he
demanded.
     "Sweetheart," she said mildly, still wiping at him, "All I said was
that the Doctor found something badly wrong at your soccer team physical and
you had to have emergency surgery.  I didn't say anything else."
     Brandon felt bad for shouting at her.  "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I
forgot that he WOULD have come by this morning to walk to school with me.
He always does."
     She smiled at the boy.  "Logan likes you, I think," she offered.
     Brandon choked again, his face flaming.  "What?!" he coughed out.
     "Well, Brandon," she said thoughtfully, "You're not the most
affectionate or polite boy in the world you know, and Logan is well ... he's
sort of strange, don't you think ?  I mean, he's so quiet, and that funny
floppy haircut of his.  It's so pale.  And he's smaller, and the retainer,
well - what I mean is, I don't think he's the type that makes friends very
easily, Brandon.  If it weren't for you, that poor boy might not have any
friends at all.  He can't even see without his glasses.  You be nice when he
gets here, even if you are miserable."
     "Aw, Mom," Brandon moaned, "you knew I didn't wanna see anybody!  I
don't want anybody to know!"
      "Logan won't know a thing, dear," she assured him.  "Just take your
books and try to be nice."
     "What if he asks, Mom?" Brandon asked, still stuffing his mouth.  He
realized that he was ravenous, not having had lunch the day before.  With a
shudder, he recalled the physical and suddenly realized that he DID have
something to discuss with Logan after all.
     "I don't know, dear," she admitted.  "Tell him you had a personality
transplant."
     Brandon stared at her.  "Thanks," he said dryly as she left the room.
     "You're going to get one, little boy, whether you realize it or not
when those testosterone levels drop off," she thought to herself, gently
closing the door with a soft laugh.
     There was a soft knock on the door.  Brandon glanced at his watch, and
realized that it had to be Logan. School was out, and Logan would have his
books and assignments and be all ready to start playing 20 questions.
Brandon sighed, making sure he was covered up and that the urine collection
bag was hidden by the blanket hanging over it.  It still looked gross.
"Come in," he said with a sigh.
     Logan entered Brandon's room with a tense look on his face.  "You OK,
dude?" he asked in a piping voice that conveyed his anxiety.
     Brandon nodded.  "I'll live," he replied defensively.
     Logan tossed him a backpack.  "You didn't miss much," he offered,
gently sitting on the edge of Brandon's bed, "Everybody wondered where you
were at.  I mean, man, you go in for a physical for soccer and you don't
come back.  So what was it, dude?  Appendix ?  No - oh man, wasn't a hernia
was it?" Logan asked shyly.
     Brandon smiled.  He knew what nerve to hit with Logan.  "I was clogged
up," he said, and it wasn't a lie.  He smirked at Logan, his grin saying it
all.
     "Oh man, did they ... I mean ... oh shit, Brandon!" the smaller boy
replied.
     "Yea, I shit alright," Brandon said back, his grin spreading.  "And all
this time your folks do that to you once a month whether you need it or not?
  It was something, I can tell ya."
     Logan's face turned beet red.  Ever since he'd mentioned the enema
thing, he'd been the butt of several water jokes.  However, now that he knew
that Brandon had been exposed to it, he didn't feel as embarrassed about his
real-life 'therapy' being added to their jack-off sessions.  He looked
around nervously, then asked Brandon in a conspiratorial whisper, "So, uh,
did you like it?"
     "I learned some stuff," Brandon replied deviously.
     "Yea, bet you liked having your butt pumped full of soap, huh?" Logan
retorted.
      Brandon laughed, a bit too hard, and realized that he shouldn't have.
His eyes teared up a bit, and he gasped.  "You OK?!" Logan barked, jumping
up off of the edge of the bed, "I mean, you're all empty, now right?"
     Brandon nodded, glad that Logan had gotten up.  He had been sitting on
top of Brandon's catheter extension.  "Just hurts is all," he replied, and
immediately realized that it had been the wrong thing to say.  Logan stared
at him with haunting multi-colored eyes.  Sometimes they were blue,
sometimes they were green, and sometimes they shifted.  To Brandon, it often
felt like his friend was looking straight into his grubby little soul, and
he didn't like it.
     "It shouldn't hurt, Brandon.  If they did it yesterday, you shouldn't
hurt at all.  Your ass might hurt some since it was the first time or if
they did a lot of rinses, but not hurt like THAT.  Give, dude - what's wrong
with you?"  Logan stared at him.
     "None of your business," Brandon replied with some heat, "Thanks for
the books and shit."  He turned his head to the side and refused to look
back.  But he was still there.  Brandon could feel those eyes boring into
him.  He heard a sigh.  It was Logan's favorite weapon.  Ever since they'd
all started the 'dirty talk' and the jack-off sessions, Logan had never been
the reluctant one.  Even as they all had begun to explore further, and some
of the boys hadn't been too sure, Logan - surprisingly - hadn't been afraid
of much of anything.  True, he was the smallest, and probably the strangest,
but he always seemed to get his way with that damn sigh.  When he wasn't in
a mood to do something, he'd sigh.  Yet when he wanted something, he'd sigh.
  It worked, and the white-haired boy knew it.  And Brandon knew it.  And he
was using it now.  NOW of all times.
     Brandon closed his eyes and shook his head, trying hard not to think
about the pain in his groin.  The last pill had worn off, and his penis felt
like it was on fire again.  Worse yet, Logan was getting him worked up with
that damn sigh.  It was just like the first time they'd experimented with
sucking each other off, right before he'd started having pains.  Brandon
hadn't wanted to, the thought of a dick in HIS mouth disgusting him.  But,
Logan had done it for him, and with that one awful sigh and an adjustment of
his glasses, the smaller boy had destroyed Brandon's resolve and he'd caved
in.  He'd returned the favor that Logan hadn't hesitated to do for him.  He
felt himself starting to get hard, and it was putting stress on his
stitches.  "Logan," he whimpered, "Please, get me a pill outta that bottle
by the radio, please!"
     Logan did that, and held his friend's head as Brandon swallowed the
pill with the last of his soda.  Logan ran from the room to get another for
each of them. When he came back, Brandon was flat on his back, his forehead
covered in sweat.  His eyes were clamped shut and his teeth were gritted.
"Man, you have got to spill it, Brandon!  You need your Mom?"
     "No!" Brandon yelped, his eyes popping open in terror.  He couldn't
TELL him!  He just couldn't.  But it was obvious that something was wrong.
He felt warmth in his groin, and the sudden fear that he was bleeding made
his stomach roll.
      "Dude, this is too weird," Logan replied, "I'm up and going the next
day after an enema.  It's no big deal, trust me, I know.  If you're like
this, they did something bad wrong!"
     Brandon smiled despite his pain.  "It wasn't the enema, buddy.  Look, I
... I ... man, go ask Mom for the v-video.  She'll know what you mean.
B-bring it back up here."
     Logan raised one eyebrow, pale as it was, and left the room.  As soon
as he was gone, Brandon threw back his blanket and looked himself over.
There was fresh blood leaking through the bandages on his cock.  "Shit!" he
swore to himself, "Now what the fuck do I do?"  He then noticed that his
catheter didn't feel right.  He glanced down at the collection bottle, and
saw that it was almost full.  "Dammit!" he shouted, louder than he intended.
  Then it dawned on him.  He needed help, and he really didn't think he
could stand to have his Mom tending to his genital injuries.  His face
flamed again.  He realized that he could bear the thought of Logan seeing
him like this, if no one else.  Logan wouldn't tell.  He could trust him.
     When he returned with the video, he inserted it into the VCR and it
autoplayed.  "Your Mom was sorta weird about that, but I told her you wanted
'the video'.  She said if you wanted me to find out, it was OK with her.
Dude, what IS wrong with you?  You look like shit!"
     Brandon closed his eyes and said the most difficult words of his young
life to his best friend.
     "So help me, God, if you tell ANYONE about this, I'll rip your head
off, Logan!"
     "What?" Logan asked, perplexed by the threat.  Brandon noticed the tent
beginning to form in the front of his khakis, however.  Brandon made a
mental note about that.
     "I need help, Logan.  I had surgery.  I'm hurt, bad.  Uncover me."
     "What about the video?" Logan asked, his hand shaking as he reached for
the blanket.
     "It's boring at the beginning, they said."  And with that, Logan pulled
the blanket back.
      He expected to see his friend's tanned skin and maybe a pair of
multi-colored boxers, OR, if he was lucky, Brandon's uncut cock standing at
attention with his nice-sized balls hanging down under it.  As many times as
Logan had jacked him off, or the few times he had sucked him off, he knew
Brandon's budding manhood well.  Every time they got together, Logan wished
that he was so well built.  He just wasn't expecting an offer IN Brandon's
room!  That and it had been a while since Brandon and his foreskin had put
in an appearance for a session.
     But that wasn't what he saw.
     He gasped, and swallowed hard.  He could feel his small penis - the
smallest of the group - getting harder.  His best friend's cock was now
wrapped in bloody gauze, and there was a tube coming out of it.  His strange
eyes followed the tube down to the bottle on the floor and just slightly
under the bed.  He looked back, and realized that Brandon's famous foreskin
was missing.  There was also a flat bandage UNDER his cock, where ... where
his balls should have been!  "Oh...my...God..." Logan said very slowly,
"Circumcised, cath'd AND ... and ... c-castrated?  Jeee-sus Christ!"
     "Wait a minute," Brandon objected, but Logan interrupted him.
     "Dude, I read a lot.  Why the hell did they do that to you ?  You said
you were constipated!"
     "I was.  They DID give me an enema.  TWO of them.  With lots of soap.
I had an infection, a bad one, and well, my b-balls ..." the words caught in
his throat, however, and his eyes filled again.
     Logan sat back down on the bed, and placed a small, warm hand on
Brandon's sweaty forehead.  He bent down close to his friend's ear and
whispered, "Cancer?"  Brandon, at that point, lost it entirely.  His friend
said nothing, but helped him to sit up and simply held him while Brandon
cried himself out again.  By the time he had finished, his eyes were glazing
over and Logan knew that the pill was working on him.  Logan eased Brandon's
sweaty crew-cut head back down onto the pillow.  He then went into the
bathroom across the hall, where, logically, he assumed that he would find
the things he needed.  He was right.  He thought about calling for Brandon's
Mom, but decided against it.  His friend had shown him this in trust, and
that meant something.  He carried the supplies back to Brandon's bedside,
and went to work.
     "Can you d-do this OK?" Brandon whimpered.
     "Dude, got a merit badge in first aid.  I think I can handle it.
Besides, I guess I outta get to know the 'new' you, huh?" he asked impishly.
     "Yea," Brandon muttered dejectedly, "Because the 'old' me's gone for
good."
     "We got more in common, now, ya know," Logan offered.
     "Huh?"
     "You're circ'd, just like the rest of us now, and you got a enema,
right?  What else did they do to you ?  Anything you like to share?" Logan
asked provocatively.
     "Some things," Brandon answered elusively, wincing as Logan began to
unwrap his bandaged cock.
     "I can work with less," Logan replied, his 'tent' still evident.
     Brandon smiled and closed his eyes.  Logan laid a cold wet washrag
across his forehead, and then  carefully continued to unwrap his friend's
penis.  He very gently wiped it with peroxide, taking care  not to pull the
stitches.  He noticed that the blood was coming from there, but none of them
were really very loose.  "That's gotta hurt like hell if he gets hard,"
Logan thought to himself.  Brandon whined as he pulled off the bandage
covering the  flattened scrotum.  It was bruised and just a bit swollen.  He
cleansed that wound as well, and when he was done, he recovered the wounds
with fresh bandages.  For the rest of his life, Logan would remember the
sight of those sutures in Brandon's scrotum.  His own penis was so hard that
it hurt, but he couldn't do anything about it.  Mentally, he berated himself
for getting turned on by his friend's suffering.  He gathered up the old
dressings, located the shut-off clip on Brandon's catheter, and pinched it.
He pulled the bottle off of the end of the tube, and took it all to the
bathroom for disposal.  He rinsed the bottle and reconnected it.  He then
sat beside his friend, holding his hand as they watched the video.  Now and
then Brandon would point out more interesting things that he could remember
for Logan, who stared intently at the screen.   He rewound it a bit, and sat
there, quietly watching, until Brandon's slow and even breathing told him
that his best friend had fallen asleep.  When the video ended, with tears
now in his own eyes, Logan took out the tape and very softly kissed
Brandon's cheek.  He picked up his own backpack and headed downstairs.
     "Brandon's asleep, he took a pill," Logan told the parents on the way
out the door.
     "Is he alright otherwise?" Brandon's Father asked.
     Logan nodded, reshouldering his backpack.  "Yea, I cleaned him up and
everything.  Oh, here's the video back," he offered.
     Brandon's Father just stared at the pale headed boy with the round
glasses.  A strange thought crossed his mind, but he couldn't believe it.
Then he smiled.  "He TOLD you?"
     Logan nodded and adjusted his glasses.  "Yea, I'd let him sleep it off.
  He's all cleaned up and re-bandaged.  You don't have to worry about it.
I'll be back tomorrow.  Just feed him is all," the strange boy reported, as
if he were reciting the weather report.
     He turned to face his wife, who looked up from the salad she was
tossing for dinner.  "Lois, he TOLD Logan.  He SHOWED Logan!"
     "I figured he would, Frank," she replied calmly, "After all, you don't
expect a boy to have his mother take care of injuries like THAT do you?"
     "I got a merit badge in first aid, ya know," Logan supplied helpfully.
     "He TOLD Logan," Frank said again, still sounding shocked.
     "Yes, dear, you mentioned that," Lois replied.
     "I won't tell anyone else, I swear!"  Logan said.  "I gotta go.  See ya
tomorrow."  And with that he left the shocked couple to their dinner as
Brandon slept dreamlessly.

     All the way home, however, Logan could hardly contain himself.  His
dick was still hard, and the thought of those stitches in Brandon's shaft -
NO - the stitches in his SAC - was almost about to drive him crazy.  He'd
very nearly cum in his pants by the time he'd finished with Brandon's
bandages.  And the thought of that tube stuck up his dick, making him
sexually helpless, was enough to make Logan sweat.  Then he remembered
something he had seen on the Internet, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
Brandon had lost his balls.  They'd castrated him.
     Brandon was a eunuch.
     Logan shivered suddenly, a chill replacing the heat he was feeling.
     Without balls, Brandon was going to loose hormones.  He tried to
remember what all he'd read, and he realized that once, it had been
customary to castrate boys and men so that ... 'That they'd lose their sex
drive or not have their voices change!' Logan whispered aloud.  He thought
back to the first time he'd seen his friend naked in the showers.  His odd
penis, finding out about circumcision, the way his balls hung ... and his
body.  It had been in the shower that day that Logan had first realized that
he might be gay.  He remembered being so nervous, so self-conscious.  Then
Brandon had looked at him, and they'd both gotten hard.  It progressed to
the talk, the magazines, then jacking off together.  That had led to jacking
each other off, and eventually, to experimenting with 'head jobs.'
     Logan's step became faster.  He had to get home and read more.  He had
to be sure.  He remembered well what Brandon looked like.  Hell, the image
of Brandon was in his mind most of the time anyway.  He remembered that
strange foreskin of his penis, the feel of it when he touched it, and the
taste and feel when he'd offered to suck Brandon the first time.  He thought
about those balls, how they had felt, and broke into a run when he realized
that they weren't there anymore.  He  was sweating again when he got home,
and ran straight to his room.  He threw the door shut and locked it.  He
couldn't help what it was going to be like as he peeled off his clothes.
His own cock was so hard that it actually hurt; thoughts of Brandon, AFTER
he healed up, filled his mind.  Brandon was circ'd, just like him now.  He
had an enema, just like him.  If he could still get hard, they could still
jack off together.  He couldn't imagine what that empty scrotum would feel
like, though.  And if Brandon couldn't get hard, or his HRT didn't take,
well - Logan wondered if his friend would still want to do it to HIM though.
     "Brandon's a eunuch," he breathed.

Logan reached down with his right hand and took hold of his 3 1/3 inch cut
cock. He started to slowly stroke his tool. Logan used his left hand to feel
his nuts. He thought to himself of what it must feel like to have a empty
scrotom like Brandon. With that thought, Logans cock gave a lurch and became
even harder in his slowly stroking fist.
Logan pulled out his desk chair and sat down on it.
Logan started to fist his cock once again. His left hand index finger went
to his mouth and he started to suck on it, to make it all wet. After getting
his finger as wet and slippery as he could make it, Logan moved his finger
down to his ass. Logan lifted his right leg and drapped it over the arm rest
of his chair, then he pushed his wet index finger up his boy pussy. A low
moan of pleasure escaped his lips, and he started to slowly speed up the
speed of his cock stroking.
With his finger pistoning in and out, in and out, in and out of his ass, and
his right hand pumping away at a now steady speed on his fully erect penis,
Logan closed his eyes, and looked at his mental picture of Brandons empty
scotom. Logan coul feel his own balls hit his hand as he pulls his finger
out of his ass, just before he pushes it back in.
Logan started to speed up his jacking on his cock, and he startd to feel his
balls pull up close to his body. He could feel the "feeling" and he knew he
was close to cumming.
Logans breathing become faster as he became closer to orgasm. His penis
became even harder, and Logan opened his eyes and looked down at his dick.
The first shot of cum spurted out with such force that it hi Logan right on
his chin, The next white rope of boy cum landed right on his chest in the
perfect center right between his tits. The third and forth blasts of cum
landed right on his tummy. He stroked his cock and a few large dribbles of
boy seed dribbled out and ran down his dick and hand and dripped into his
small pubic bush. Logan lifted his hand to his face and licked his seman off
of his hand. Logan got up off his chair and went to his bed to lie down. As
Logan drifted off to sleep he wondered if Brandon would ever have any fluid
come out of his dick anymore for him to drink in.