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From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm@yahoo.com>
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Subject: Exploring, Part 13, MM, Mast
Date: Sun, 23 Apr 2006 19:19:31 -0500
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===================

Exploring, Part 13
By Jackinnm@yahoo.com

	Chris and I were sitting in his living room the next
evening, and I pointed out to him a wire service
article in the newspaper:
	“Doctor George’s wife had just waved goodbye to him
when she saw his head pitch forward as a cloud of pink
mist exploded from it.”
	Chris looked at me and said:
	“That’s pretty graphic. That sure was a powerful
weapon.”
	“Yes it was,” I replied. “The bullet was probably a
hollow point, and it vaporized his brain when it hit.
He must have been dead before he hit the ground.”
	He took the paper from me, reading one of the
following paragraphs:
	“Dr. George was head of obstetrics and gynecology at
an area hospital. Preliminary investigation did not
reveal any known enemies and his wife said that he had
not mentioned any threats against his life.”
	“That sounds about right,” I said. “I don’t know if
any cop’s going to make the connection between his
shooting and circumcisions he’s performed.”
	“I sure hope not,” Chris said. 
	“The article didn’t mention any lawsuits against him
by a patient or patients.”
	“Let’s hope nothing turns up,” Chris added. “I’m not
bloodthirsty, but I’m not anxious that the guy who
shot him gets caught.”
	“Me neither,” I said. “I’m going to do a little
checking when I go down to the cop shop tomorrow
morning.”
	“Oh, yeah, you work the police beat. You can get a
line on this.”
	Next morning I went to the criminal investigation
bureau at police headquarters, where one of my best
contacts, Detective Brad Teen, worked. Luckily, he was
in, and he told me that he’d been put in charge of the
case.
	“I’ve hardly got anything to work on,” he said to me,
knowing that I was always seeking news of progress on
high-profile cases. I pretended to have only a routine
interest in the case, and carefully avoided asking
about any specific leads, such as patient lawsuits. 
	“I saw that Dr. George didn’t have any enemies,” I
said casually.
	“No he didn’t, and I wouldn’t expect him to have any.
He was just a doctor who delivered babies,” Jim said.
	“I guess that wouldn’t get him any enemies,” I
speculated. At that point Brad got up and said:
	“Let’s go out for coffee, Jack. It’s my break, and I
want to get out of the building.” We went to a diner
on the next corner, and when we’d sat down in a booth
and ordered, Jim said:
	“Funny thing is, I met him once.”
	“Socially?” I asked. Not knowing where this would
lead.
	“Remember three years ago, when my sister had her
baby? Doctor Meyer delivered the kid, and the next day
he dropped dead of a heart attack. He was only 55.
Well, Meyer died before he could perform the
circumcision, and a couple of days later, after she
and the boy had been discharged from the hospital,
Maryann asked me to drive her and the kid to Doctor
George’s office. He was going to circumcise the boy
since Doctor Meyer had died before he could do it.”
The hairs at the back of my neck stood up.
	“I didn’t like the idea of cutting off a perfectly
normal foreskin,” Brad continued. “I wasn’t clipped
and I know how nice it is to be the way nature made
me. Still, my sister and her husband insisted on
getting the boy cut, and there was nothing I could do
about it. I drove them to Dr. George’s office since
Simon, my brother-in-law, was out of town on a job,
and we sat in the waiting room while the doctor did
the cutting. We heard the kid screaming through the
walls, and we know it hurt him.” It was a good thing I
was sitting down as Brad related his story. The
thought had me trembling, and I would have been
unsteady on my feet if I’d been standing. 
I knew that the same thing had happened to me a few
days after I’d been born. The doctor had ripped off my
foreskin without anesthetic, as it wasn’t fashionable
back then to use anesthetics on babies. Doctors simply
lied to the parents, telling them that babies were too
young to feel pain. 
“I guess you might not Dr. George very much,” I
suggested. I wanted to feel out Brad without revealing
my own thoughts quite yet.
“Right, Jack. I think he might have been a very good
obstetrician, but he’d been encouraging parents to
have their kids clipped and he had all the other
doctors in his hospital following his plan. Hardly any
baby boys made it out of there intact.” Brad’s anger
was evident in his voice.
	“Well, he won’t be doing that shit any longer,” I
contributed. Hearing this, Brad smiled slightly.
“And you can imagine that I’m not going to exactly
bust my balls to find who shot him,” he said. I was
determined to appear neutral for a while longer, and
replied:
“I think you’ve got a few other cases to work on,
anyway.”
“Yeah, I do, and I’m going to concentrate on them. I’m
not even going to look to see if any former patients
of his have sued him for anything. I don’t want to go
there. Maybe I’m playing God, but it really hurts me
to think that my nephew and lots of other boys had to
suffer mutilation because of that guy.” Now I decided
to take a chance:
“You know, Brad, I wasn’t as lucky as you when I was
born. The doctor clipped me and I’ve always hated it
too.”
“Does that place you on my suspect list?” he asked
with a wide grin.
“No, I took care of this in a different way. I had
plastic surgery as an adult to have a new hood grafted
on my tip.”
“No kidding?” he asked. “I didn’t even know that was
possible.”  
“It’s possible, but nowadays not many guys who want
their foreskins back are doing that. It’s expensive
and risky, and the results aren’t good.”
“So what do they do?” Brad asked.
“They stretch their remaining shaft skin until it’s
long enough to fold over the glans.”
“I’d like to see your results,” Brad said. 
“Okay, come over to my place and I’ll play show and
tell,” I suggested. “Can you break free now?”
“Yeah, I’ll call the office and tell them I won’t be
in for a couple of hours.” He pulled a cell phone from
his pocket as we got up.
“It’s on me,” I said as I walked over to the cashier’s
podium. “Meet you at my place.”
He followed me and soon we pulled into my driveway.
Inside, I took off my suit jacket and pants as he
watched. 
“Ready?” I asked as I slipped my fingers into the
waistband of my boxers. When he nodded, I pulled down
my shorts.
“It’s kinda red and funny-looking at the end,” Brad
observed.
“That’s because the plastic surgeon used scrotal skin
for the graft,” I retorted. Brad moved closer to me
and grasped my penis by the nipple of my foreskin,
which extended beyond the glans about an inch.
Squeezing it slightly he observed:
“It’s a lot thicker than mine.” He let go and dropped
his pants and shorts. His limp penis was about the
same ength as line, and had a pronounced bulge near
the end, in front of which the foreskin tapered to
form a nipple much like mine. He looked into my eyes
and continued:
“When you first got on the police beat, I did a
background search on you. I know you’re Bi. So am I.
I’d be dead meat in the department if anybody found
out. Things are loosening up, but not that much yet.”
As he’d spoken, his fingers had returned to my penis,
rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. I
reached for his and spoke:
“Okay, I understand. Yours feels very nice. I’ve never
handled an uncut prick before. The guys I’ve been with
have all been either circumcised or restored. This is
the first natural foreskin I’ve ever handled.”
 “You’re getting hard now,” Brad said. “I’d like to
stroke yours until you come.” I saw that we both had
about six inches, and our pricks were slightly thicker
than average.
“I’m all for that,” I answered. “Let’s get our clothes
off and do it. I’ll want to make you come the same way
too.” We quickly shed the rest of our clothing and I
led him to the bedroom, picking up a couple of towels
from the bathroom on the way. By the time the
anticipation had me fully hard, and when I sat down
Brad sat next to me and began stripping back my hood.
I again grasped his prick and said:
“You’re right. Your natural foreskin’s a lot thinner
than mine. It’s long, though. Both of us are fully
hard but there’s enough skin to cover the head.”
“Does yours skin back? It feels kinda tight to me.” As
he spoke he was testing my foreskin, jiggling it up
and down my glans slightly.
“It takes more effort but yeah, it goes back. Try it
and see.” I was still palpating his glans through his
long thin hood, tightly stretched over the
helmet-shaped bulge. Now he tightened his grip and
slowly peeled back my hood, gradually exposing my tip.
“You’ve got a big purple helmet, a lot like mine,” he
said. “Your balls are tight, though. Is that because
the doctor took some skin to make your new foreskin?”
“Yes, it took a lot of scrotal skin,” I replied.
“With a big helmet like that I’m not surprised. I’m
glad you’ve got one like mine. “It’s really
nice-looking.” I began pulling the foreskin down off
his head, admiring the glossy tip as it came into
view.
“I think the glans is the most attractive part of the
penis,” I said. “Yours is really nice too.” Both our
pricks were now straining inside their sheaths, the
helmets completely exposed to view and glossy in the
soft room light.
“They’re all different, you know,” Brad said. “Ours
almost look like twins, but yours has a teardrop
shaped slit that pouts, while mine is longer and
doesn’t pout.” A drop of clear fluid was now parting
the lips of his long slit.
“You’re already secreting juice,” I said. “Mine is
always a bit dry. I have to use Astroglide to keep it
moist and slippery.”
“We both have flaring rims,” Brad told me as he
stretched the skin back from around my corona. “We
both have that sexy-looking upturn at the rim.” I
pulled down harder on his skin to bare the groove
behind the corona, inhaling the rich masculine odor of
his hot wet glans and foreskin.
“You’ve got a bit of cheese behind the rim,” I said.
“I don’t get that. The doctor who clipped me cut away
all of my inner skin and the gee-string too.”
“I’d noticed that your frenulum seemed to be missing,”
he said as he pulled my foreskin up to enclose my
glans, producing a delicious friction in the nerve
endings. “Did you ask the plastic surgeon to put back
a new frenulum?”
“No, it never occurred to me,” I answered. “I just
wanted the glans covered to keep it moist so that it
would regain some sensitivity.”
“Has it?” Brad asked me.
“Oh, definitely,” I replied. “Now I can get to orgasm
without tightening my crotch muscles. I never was able
to do that before. Brad pushed me down on the bed as
he spoke:
“Let’s see you get to orgasm.” He began pumping my
foreskin up and down the swollen head with a steady
rhythm. “Am I doing it right?”
“You’re doing it exactly right,” I said. “You’ve got
lots of practice stroking a foreskin, and it’s working
right for me.” He accelerated slightly and I
concentrated on relaxing my body, while still
retaining my grip on his prick, feeling its inner
hardness through the long supple skin covering. 
“I’m using long strokes now,” he explained. “That’s
best for working on the entire glans. When you get
close I’ll concentrate on just the rim. That way it’ll
take you a little longer to come, and you’ll enjoy
those last seconds more.”
“You’re an expert,” I murmured. “You’re doing it just
right.” My prick was definitely responding to the
stimulation, and I felt an involuntary tightening deep
inside me. 
“Your tip’s getting harder and more swollen,” he said
as he changed his strokes, pulling my foreskin back
until it formed a thick fleshy ring behind my corona
and bumping the rim with every up-stroke. 
“That’s just right,” I whispered. “I can feel the head
swelling.”
“It’s also getting darker, like mine does,” he
commented. “Without the skin and my fingers putting
pressure on the head, it’s swelling to the max.” His
insistent stroking was driving me into another world,
and I began withdrawing into myself as my body
absorbed the delicious erotic sensations his fingers
were delivering. My eyes closed, a fact that he
noticed immediately.
“You’re really close, Jack. I can feel it. Your balls
are really tight now, and the tip’s very dark. You’ve
even got a drop of lube at the hole.” I’d felt a drop
of natural lubricant crawling up my urethra as I’d
listened to his words, and now I felt it filling my
pouting meatus. 
“I’m close,” I confirmed. Now I felt a tickling
sensation in my rim, and I knew the dam would burst in
a few seconds. My prick strained under his touch, and
the tickle had spread all over my helmet, even where
he wasn’t stroking.
“Your tip’s so shiny….” he murmured as he bumped my
rim several more times. My body tightened with
excitement as I felt the tickle in my glans change
into a hot tingle that spread quickly down my shaft. A
sudden spasm gripped my cock-root as I saw a red flash
in front of my eyes, and the heavy pounding of my
orgasm began. 
Hot liquid shot into my urethra and burned its way up
the shaft as I felt Brad’s fist tighten on my prick as
he brought my foreskin halfway up my glans to
intensify my sensations. The torrent burst from my tip
as I cried out, and then I felt another hard
tightening deep inside me. Another hot spasm gripped
my cock-root and I felt another jet shooting up my
prick. It felt like hot lava as it burned its way up
to erupt from my throbbing glans. I moaned helplessly
as the fury of my orgasm coursed through my body, and
another torrent of sperm burst from me. I was moaning
mindlessly, enraptured by the thrilling sensations,
aware only of Brad’s fingers gripping my prick and the
hot throbs that almost annihilated my consciousness.
I was in a daze now. My throbs had weakened and
stopped. A feeling of languor was creeping over me. I
heard Brad’s voice:
“I really liked that, Jack. “I held your skin back
slightly even while I was pumping you, to watch the
jizm shooting out of your cock-tip.”
“That felt really good for me, Brad. As I said, you’re
an expert.” I noticed that at some point I’d released
Brad’s prick, and as I opened my eyes I saw that he
was still fully hard. He answered my unasked question:
“You let go of my cock when you were getting close. If
you’d kept stroking me I would have shot too.” I
grasped his erection again, and as the foreskin was
fully up over his helmet I began easing it back in
small strokes. He lay back, but he was still holding
my prick as it softened.
“I held off wiping you down because I know your cock
was too sensitive. Mine gets very sensitive when I
come.” He turned slightly towards me and used the
towel to wpie the sperm off my glans as he covered it
with my hood. I took the other towel and placed it on
his stomach.
“Now it’s your turn,” I said. “Just relax and let me
do the work.” I worked his foreskin back in stages. “I
know that the stretchy feeling is a terrific turn-on
for uncut guys,” I explained. “You can feel the nerve
endings in your foreskin stretching as I pull it back
over that big helmet.” His slit was weeping slippery
tears that made the long thin hood slide more easily
as I worked on it. 
“Now I’m going to pull it all the way back and then
some. I want to get your tip bare right back to the
groove.”
“Oh, that feels terrific,” he whispered as I put more
tension on his foreskin, dragging it back until it
rode over the high upturned rim and snapped down into
the deep groove behind it. 
“You’ve got a really beautiful helmet, Brad. I really
appreciate it.” The large blunt nose of his glans was
parted by a long slit that seeped lubricant as I
watched, and now I pulled his foreskin forward again
to scoop up the liquid and make his glans slick. He
had propped his head up on a pillow and was avidly
watching my ministrations.
“Your fingers feel really good on my cock,” he said. I
was lightly running his foreskin up and down, almost
to the end and then back down to bare the glans right
to the rim. 
“Your balls are getting tight,” I observed. “They were
loose before, but now they’re right up against your
body.”
“You know what that means,” he said. Indeed I did. It
meant that his excitement was rising quickly. He was
already hot from having handled my prick. He’d watched
it spurt, and he’d felt the hot throbs in my glans and
shaft as the orgasm had consumed me, and this meant
that he was primed for his climax. 
“I know you’re already pretty hot,” I said. “I’m going
to take it nice and slow, so that you enjoy the ride
before I make you blast off. Brad was secreting
copiously, and the thin slippery fluid was running
down his glans onto my encircling fingers. 
“You’re so wet I’m losing my grip on your foreskin,” I
said. “I’m going to pull it all the way down and give
you direct action on the helmet.” As I drew the thin
sheath down behind his corona I knew that direct
friction would speed his response, and I was careful
to use only a light touch. Even this was
super-stimulating to his sensitive tip, and he moaned
softly.
“That’s so hot, so stimulating….” His voice trailed
off.
“Your tip’s getting harder,” I commented. “It’s
getting darker purple, and the rim’s almost black.
It’ll start throbbing any second now.” As I spoke I
watched Brad staring fixedly at his dark purple glans,
straining between my fingers and leaking lubricant
heavily. He began moaning loudly, his chest heaving,
as the sharp sensations bit into his tender flesh. His
legs began to tremble.
“AAAAHHHHH!” he yelped as I felt his hot hard helmet
throb between my caressing fingers. A thick jet of
cream slammed through the lips of his long slit,
arcing high before landing on the towel. I gripped his
prick full-fisted now, twisting my fingers hard around
the head and retracted foreskin to give him a jolt of
sensation and bring forth his second ejaculation. He
threw his head back and yelped again. 
His prick throbbed again and another hot jet erupted
from his bulging tip, and his yelps changed to heavy
grunts as the orgasm raged through his contorting
body. As his uncircumcised helmet was more sensitive
than mine, he was having a full-body orgasm, more
intense than what I’d experienced. I also knew that
his glans would become unbearably sensitive in another
second or two, and I stopped the friction and just
kept his foreskin and gee-string under tension as his
next spasms consumed him and his prick emptied itself.

Now he was still, his eyes closed, stunned by the
violence of his ejaculations. I held his prick gently
to avoid the sensitive head touching the rough towel,
and we stayed that way for a couple of minutes until
he opened his eyes and spoke:
“That was fantastic, Jack. You’re a real expert at
getting a guy off. I don’t remember it being that
intense before.” I eased his foreskin forward over the
shrinking helmet and let it drop onto the towel. 
“Glad to do it, Brad. You gave me a hot one too, you
remember.”
“Yeah, I saw. You drained yourself too.”
“And I was returning the favor, Brad. Also, I was
experiencing your orgasm vicariously as I felt your
prick throb and watched it shoot.” His face clouded
for a moment before he spoke again:
“Something I’ve got to tell you. It’s about this
latest case. “Doctor George isn’t the only one who’s
been getting knocked off. There have been other
shootings around the country involving doctors. The
only thing that connects them is that all of the
doctors who got iced were connected with clipping
babies somehow.”
“You mean this guy shot others?” I asked, feigning
ignorance.
“No, it’s not one guy. It can’t be. Different weapons,
different locales. One doctor even got bumped off when
his car exploded. One perpetrator couldn’t have done
all that.”
“What do other departments say?” I asked, sensing that
this was the moment to pump Brad for information.
“Far as I know, nobody else has made the connection.
You know how cops are. They’re very territorial.
Agencies don’t exchange information. I think I’m the
only one who spotted the pattern.”
“Different shooters, but commonality of motivation,” I
mused.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s the way it’s been. It’s been
going on for months. Maybe years. There was a doctor
right here a while back who got beat up, not shot.
That might have been the first case. Never solved. No
suspects. I looked hard then, because I thought it was
a mugging gone bad. Then I realized that it had to be
more than that. Whoever did it made sure the doctor’s
hands were smashed. He’ll never do another
circumcision.”

Continued in Part 14
 










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