An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA - 11. Cutting it too Close for Comfort

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

Cutting it too Close for Comfort

With the date of his procedure now etched firmly into the calendar, Luke tried to settle back into the routines of daily life: school, home, weekends, Longhorn...

If only it were that easy!

The upcoming surgery was always on his mind, and Luke couldn’t stop himself dwelling on it, constantly going over the papers he’d received. He also continued his online research, scouring the web just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important. Google was fine, but not as educational as the real thing, so at school, he couldn’t resist surreptitiously examining the other guys in the locker rooms and under the showerheads whenever cleanly circumcised wangers went on show.

With newly acquired knowledge and an understanding of different styles, he found himself looking with increasing interest to see what was what. Even so, he had to be careful—he wasn’t a perv, but getting a reputation for staring at dicks in the showers in an all-boys school was a shortcut to extinction!

For starters all were cut—no surprise there—though a number of those were quite loosely done—at least it seemed that way. When observing them soft, the folds of remaining skin slipped some way over their heads. ‘Half and halves’, he called them—with the foreskin rolling down to neither here nor there. To him, the loose version didn’t look good at all, and the booklet the doctor had provided had suggested that it was best if the glans—the mushroom head—was clear of skin at all times.

Todd Quince was one of those ‘half and halves’, and by the look of him, probably didn't actually care. Standing a little way down the row as they changed, Luke observed Todd give his black and rather hairy balls an easy scratching, humming some unrecognizable tune as he prepared to head to the showers.

Music wasn't Todd's strong suit either!

He was fairly sure Todd was clipped, but it was less obvious. Perhaps guys like that had been done that way at birth, he mused? That in itself raised lots of questions about circumcision for someone who’d gone through primary school in the UK never even suspecting such a thing was going on—or more specifically, coming off—in another part of the world.

He’d done plenty of reading-around online, and had some idea how doctors went about circumcising a baby, and it obviously happened around here every day. A baby was so little…so how did the surgeons manage to do it right? Was it potluck as to whether they turned out to be loose or tight when they grew up, or could the surgeon create a specific outcome for a baby? Did they do it straightaway on the day a boy was born, or at some later time? Did it hurt? Did they get an injection?

And another thing—did any of them ever remember it? If what Damon had said was anything to go by, probably not. Not for the first time did Luke realise how much he was in the dark when it came to a lot of the details.

That Monday morning, they were back in the new sports block for the one sports period of the week that all four classes of their year took simultaneously, giving ready numbers for plenty of on-field mayhem.

The sports block—though it wasn’t that new anymore, having been built three summers previously—had been paid for by their extortionate fees. That said, you had to hand it to them: when the school decided to build something on the campus, there were no shortcuts or cheap investments. The sport curriculum was a big pull for The Academy, and they'd put a lot of good money into developing the facility. Most agreed that the massive, purpose-built sports arena had been money well-spent.

With space for pull-out bleachers as well as a sizeable match-play area, it had been built on the side of the old sports facility, which in turn had been completely gutted and refurbished to house two separate locker rooms, teaching spaces for sports science classes, a smaller sports hall that could be used as a gym, and bags of storage.

There was a rumor that a pool was planned, but to everyone’s disappointment, it remained just that.

The new locker rooms were plush and extensive, and the class spread itself around the available space of the larger one. He and Ry had their usual spot.

Didn't everyone?

In the midst of the genial hubbub, Luke pulled off his padded top. American football had never been his thing, but he'd had a pretty good game on that outing. Amid the stomping of boots, the clatter of helmets, grass-stained pants and grimy shirts being discarded all around him, there was steam billowing from the shower room, good enough to tempt even the shyest, sweaty teen under the heads. The sprays were always hot and powerful, and Luke was anticipating being in there shorte himself!

So he'd better start hustling!

He, Ryan, and about a third of the seventy or so in the year had only just got in from the field. It had been such a tight game, none of them had even noticed how late it had got. Most of the rest were already out of the showers and getting dressed. One thing was for sure, he mused, the swathes of color were getting as lively as the banter! Trendy, colorful boxers were definitely in, and the amount of plain black, white or grey adorning the bums around him was diminishing.

As if to prove the point, Adam Miller, chatting amiably with Todd, stepped into an intense shade of apple green that looked tasty enough to eat! He shifted his gaze as Ethan and Chris joined them straight from the showers and began towelling themselves dry.

"You guys better get a move on!" Ethan said, energetically rubbing the towel around his nuts and tossing it onto the bench as he searched for his boxers from within a pile of clothing.

"We got delayed!" Grinning, Kieran peeled off his grass-stained football pants. "Hell of a good game, though!"

Luke smiled to himself. Not at the easy banter, but that both Chris and Ethan ticked the next box on his database of circumcision styles.

Low.

They were what the booklet would describe as tight, but at the same time they were both 'low cut', meaning the circumcision mark—stained in both their cases with a dark band—was only a couple of centimetres back from the head.

And they weren’t alone, either. It wasn't uncommon—in fact, Luke knew that when Kieran got to the shower, he would be sporting the same. By popular opinion, Kieran McElroy also had one of the longest, straightest wangers in their year—but that was another story!

"So what the hell did you have for breakfast, homie?" Addressing Ryan, Kier pulled at the retaining straps of his jock, and slipped it off, tossing the cup into his bag.

"It has to be that new kind of Cheerios they do," Luke quipped, joining the banter. He had to agree, Ryan had been like a tank that day, and Luke was just glad they’d been on the same side.

Kieran—playing on the opposing team—pulled a face. "Must'a come with a steroid sachet for extra flavor!"

Luke chuckled as he sat down to pull off his socks. His eyes flicked to where Kier's low-cut wanger waved in the breeze. His pubes had now grown back—though that again was another story—and Luke smirked at the memory.

No dark band on Kieran, though—it was less obvious on colored guys. Kieran left for the showers, leaving Luke thinking about that. It seemed that most of his friends had a dark band around their shafts—some more obvious than others. Like an off-colored tattoo, it seemed to be at the point where what was left of their inner foreskin met the shaft skin.

Another thing Luke wondered about, was what would it be like to start life without a foreskin at all, and to grow up never having any idea what it would be like to live with one? At least he was making a choice to get cut, though to be fair, his foreskin had apparently never worked properly anyway.

The question was, had he been given the choice, would he have preferred to have gotten rid of his at birth like it seemed most of these guys had?

The answer: the way he felt right now, DAMN RIGHT he would!

He pushed down his football pants, stepped out of them and weighed up his options for his own cut. The more he appraised others, it became clearer what he wanted for himself. And he tended to agree with the conclusion found in the booklet the doctor had left him—and which he frequently studied—that high and tight was best.

Just like Ryan's, he decided, briefly glancing in the direction of his friend as Ryan sat down to extract himself from his own muddied pants. Within a few moments, Ryan was only covered by his jockstrap.

"Good play out there, son!"

Luke dropped his gaze, tasting that anxious tinge of guilt that always came whenever he thought he might be caught studying his friends in this way. He looked up carefully, to spot he head football coach as he stalked across the locker room floor. A hushed wash trailed in his wake—he was a man who, well into his sixties, still had the build and presence to intimidate any who dared stand alongside him on the sidelines!

Coach Milton stopped by Ryan for a ‘chat’, and Luke smothered a grin. Milton only called you 'son' if he was a) in a good mood, and b) impressed. The likelihood of hitting THAT combination with the old sod was slim.

Ryan stood to military attention despite his state of undress wearing only the jockstrap which carried the curved plastic athletic cup that was compulsory for contact sports at the school. Luke was wearing one, too—the protective cup covering his ‘nads.

He had no memory of ever having to wear this kind of cup in any of the contact sports they used to play back in his old London school. The required piece of kit was one of many that their mum had had to go out and buy for him and Simon from day one at this school. Wearing the funny shaped underwear with the plastic cup pushed down the front had felt weird at first, but everyone else had the same and he quickly got used to it. He hardly thought about it anymore.

A thought struck him. Was it possible that a cup was only necessary here in the States for school kids, because one of the implications of having your foreskin cut back was that everything was more sensitive to knocks?

Was that where it came from?

"Yes, coach," replied Ryan, and Luke caught up with the exchange. Some distance away, he spotted a nasty scowl cross Scott Landon's mouth. Ryan's stunning performance on the field had mostly been at Landon's expense.

"We could really do with you on the team, Ryan," Milton continued.

"Yes, coach," replied Ryan, though Luke could see it was non-committal—and that Milton could see that too. Everyone knew Ryan was invested heavily into the tennis squad, and that the man was chancing it.

"Just think about it, that's all I ask. There's always a place for a guy like you."

As soon as Milton had forged on, there were smirks and grins from those near as they ribbed Ryan. When it came to coaching staff at the Academy, Milton was the big kahuna!

"Fuck, I think he likes your body, Ry!" teased Chris as soon as the man was safely out of earshot. Ry shook his head in mock-pity, and offered Chris Anderson a finger.

As the rest of the guys headed to the showers for a quick power massage before lunch, soon it was just the two of them still undressing, and as Luke studied his friend as Ryan slipped off the sweaty jock he was wearing, extracting the hard cup in the process. Putting it one side, he began searching his backpack.

What was it about Ryan, Luke wondered—for the umpteenth time.

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

I'd known Ry a long time and I liked him for more reasons than were easy to count with just two hands. He was fun to be around, but he was also bloody clever! Throw in my witty, generous and thoughtful, and we made a good team!

Okay, joking aside, Ry was a good friend and as solid as hell. After so many years, I thought I knew everything about him, yet there were still times he was a complete surprise, even to me—like the way he reacted that time when everyone was talking about the G.S.A. group at Creek.

On the other hand, it wasn't surprising that, on the field that day, Landon had been repeatedly driven into the ground! Ry was as solid as hell in that way, too, built very much like his father.

And when it came to circumcision, he VERY definitely was.

The truth was, even though I tried to ignore it, to me Ryan looked great down there, and I couldn't help but admire him. His was an example of a 'high and tight' circumcision. Or maybe it was only medium-high and tight?

I mean I couldn’t exactly ask, or pull at it a bit, could I, LOL!

Like most, he had that intriguing dark band.

At that moment, as I gazed at him in the lockers, he was completely soft and yet still no foreskin covered his glans. I smiled to myself as I used those terms with ease now. I'd come to my decision some time ago—right there was exactly the style I knew I wanted.

More recently, I was fairly sure that Ryan was beginning to trim—as in his pubic hair. Frankly, it was no big thing—and no, I don't mean his dick, though actually that wasn't actually very big, and certainly quite a lot shorter than my dangly anteater. But, then again, I had the edge on all of them in those stakes!

Up until recently, I hadn’t thought about it much, but studying him once more, his dick was definitely thicker than mine. I guess you could say he was well-hung in that his nuts were pretty full, too. Because of it, his dick looked well proportioned as it rested easily over his sack.

Was he a grower? Of course, I’d seen his dick plenty of times, but everyone has to wonder what someone else has to offer once they’re hard.

Don't they?

Where was I?

Oh yes—trimming. It was becoming more common these days. Quite a number of the guys, now we’d sprouted curls of hair were doing it—neatly cutting back their pubes to one degree or another. Where it came from I don’t know, but pruning was catching on. Even being completely smooth wasn't out of the question, though I only personally knew one of the guys who did it out of choice. Leroy was one of those.

Leroy was in our year, though not in our class, and was one of several African-American guys who commonly wore their groins as smooth as a baby's bum. In fact, I never really thought about it much as Leroy had just never seemed let them grow from the day I first met him. However, when your dick is an anaconda and you're now 6'1" and pushing 190lb, nobody tends to take issue!

Not all African-Americans were like that by any means. Guys like Todd for instance, who, when it came to trimming or shaving, didn’t seem to care a toss! Maybe that was where he’d lost the plot with Fion?

For many others, I think the general feeling was that in the hot, humid weather of the deep south, a little cutting back of the bush helped keep the smell and heat in your undercarriage at bay. Anyway, we lived in the twenty-first century, not the Victorian age. It was how we did it these days.

It was also undeniably sexy, but that was just me!

And me? Trimming? Well, twenty-first century or not, I was still just a shy English boy, and for various reasons had never picked up the trimmer—although that was soon going to change.

As I said, Ryan was one of those who mowed. Not a lot, but enough that it looked neat and stylish, which was probably the reason I was tempted to try it myself. If you looked closely, you could see that the way he did it left a little more in the middle, but he trimmed it a bit closer at the edges. I even wondered whether he shaved it smooth towards the sides in some way, although I couldn't really ask!

Did he have any hair on his balls? Now there was a question…did guys shave under there? Did smooth Leroy take it off his sack too? Did Ry? SHIT—that was a thought. It was hard to tell at this angle. His hair was dark, so it should probably show up quite easily...

* * *

Luke was lost in a reverie of gazing at Ryan’s dick and pubes, when a voice rocked him back into reality.

"Luke? Dude—you're staring at my junk!”

Luke’s eyes flicked up rapidly. His first response was an automatic scan of the surroundings in case anyone else was in earshot. This was matched to a tightening in his gut with the realization he’d been caught red-handed. Trapped between the rows of benches and oncoming doom, he stared at Ryan like a rabbit in headlights, and promptly made it worse by coloring.

It was completely sickening.

What the fuck had he gone and done?

Ryan rested his hands on his hips and remained bemused and quizzical—obviously willing to hang out for an explanation…for now…

Luke swallowed. "Sorry Ry...I…" He paused, petrified as Ryan continued to watch him with patient interest. The seconds ticked by and his friend’s eyes narrowed. Time was up and Luke came up with the ONLY thing that would hold any kind of water.

"I… Well, it's just that I'm thinking about getting circumcised. I didn’t mean to stare – sorry about that." He struggled to keep his voice conversationally low, hoping to God nobody else was listening. "It’s just…well, I was wondering what it was like?"

Ryan’s eyes widened. "Circumcised? You?" His gaze dropped automatically to the jockstrap at Luke’s groin. Some light of understanding seemed to creep into his face. "That's right—you have that anteater dangling off yours."

Luke nodded in relief as Ryan seemed to buy it. He really hadn't planned on telling anyone about that—even Ryan—but in a tight corner, it was the only plausible explanation he could come up with.

“Anyway—what kind of question is that?" Ryan grunted, surprised enough to want to sit down. "What do you mean ‘what it’s like’?”

“I dunno.” Luke fidgeted—he wasn't out of the woods yet. “I had a check-up, and they said I might want to think about it, that’s all.”

That wasn’t a bad compromise.

“What check-up?" Ryan didn't let up. "So when did you decide all this?”

“I haven’t yet." It was a hurried lie. With more questions, it still felt like he was teetering on the edge of disaster, and Luke strove to keep his breathing even and not to look guilty.

Ryan seemed to consider the plausibility of the idea as he lifted his backpack, placed it on his knees and started going through it. Then he paused and frowned before looking up, adding, "So why didn't you want to tell me?"

Luke shrugged. Probably staying zip was safer.

Without getting anything further from Luke, Ryan dumped his backpack on the ground again. “Where's my towel?"

“I dunno.”

Still completely in the buff, Ryan stood and began to peer around for any tell-tale signs of sniggering and other evil-doing by his peers, but there was nobody else there to care. He glared suspiciously at Luke. "Did you pinch it?"

"Your towel? Why would I take your towel? Are you scared of the Vogons?" Luke cringed at the rather weak comeback, but was thankful for the change in subject as he studiously kept his gaze above waist level.

"What?"

Luke grinned and the humor helped him push away his unease. Ry had never got the idea of 'Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy'. His friend shook his head in bewilderment, and bent over to search under the bench.

Luke was quite pleased with himself. He was just thinking how well he’d handled the crisis, despite the crummy Hitchhikers joke, when…BAM! There it was. As he stared at a firm backside, he wasn't thinking about a towel anymore. He was thinking about sex!

Ever since the previous summer and that day in the pool at the Alexis house, the coals of Luke’s sexuality had been smouldering into a growing ‘same sex’ interest. He'd fought against it, but it was something in him that was getting harder and harder to deny.

Suddenly, faced with Ryan's tight butt as his friend had leaned over to search for his towel, he wasn’t researching minor surgery anymore, he'd dropped into the deep end of raging lust. That smooth, muscular bum came up, and it was as if something had blown on those smouldering coals. Unable to help it, Luke took a sharp breath as the coals sputtered, hot and red. After long moments of staring, and shocked by what he was entertaining, he tore his eyes away, doggedly denying what was surfacing.

Unlike Ryan, he'd worked hard to stay out of too much trouble on the football field and wasn’t all that sweaty, and had been looking forward to the massaging hot showers. Now something else threatened, as hidden behind the cup in his jock, he could feel himself filling out. As long as the cup stayed there, he was safe, but he would be bypassing the showers that day for sure!

Instead, he liberally sprayed his pits and pulled on his school shirt hoping Ryan would disappear soon.

"So?" said Ryan, standing straight, after peering under all the benches. He pierced him with a stare. “What happened?”

Luke swallowed guiltily. "What d’ya mean. I didn’t do anything?" I never touched you, it wasn’t me.

“This circumcision thing," returned Ryan patiently, continuing where they'd left off. "You never mentioned it before. Come on, why didn't you tell me about your medical? What did the doc say?”

“Nothing, really.” Jockstrap or not, Luke still held his shirt defensively in front of himself. "I didn't think you'd be bothered, that’s all. It's not that important!" He cringed inwardly. That had to be the understatement of the year!

Ryan shrugged. It appeared that he thought Luke was right, and when it came to being bothered, he wasn’t. Resting his hands on his hips, he scanned the benches for his missing towel, one last time. "If you're not showering, can I use your towel?" he pleaded. "I think I must have left mine at home.”

“Oh, sure. Go ahead.” Luke pulled it out of his backpack and threw it across.

Ryan caught it easily. “So, when are you having it done?” he remained conversational. “You should you know.”

Luke bit his lip. This was dodgy ground. While he wanted to drop the subject fast, he also yearned to know what his friend was going to think—both now and for when it was done. He took a risk. "You think so?”

“Sure—why not?” Ryan sounded genuinely positive. “About time, too!”

"Why d'ya say that?" Luke chuckled and tried to sound careless. His eye stayed at shoulder level where the towel was tossed across Ryan’s shoulder.

"You boys have five minutes before I lock you in! Move it!" Milton's stentorian threat boomed across the locker room, interrupting what Luke was keen to hear.

"Take my advice," Ryan still offered as he turned to follow the last of the stragglers to the showers. "You'll be much happier being properly trimmed down there—and I don't just mean the pubes!" He grinned, cheekily drew his fingers across his own close-trimmed hairs.

Luke was forced to look down. He really didn’t want to because he knew what it was going to do to him. His eyes dropped and he had to fight hard to avoid an audible groan as Ry blew steadily on the smouldering fire once more. Shamelessly, Ryan lifted his flaccid dick from where it hung softly, to examine his own circumcision. One last time, he blew upon the glowing coals.

BAM!

Oh my God! Luke groaned inwardly as, wide-eyed, he watched Ryan fondle himself, moving the shaft skin forward slightly, so that it began to curl up over his well-shaped glans.

The coals finally burst into flames.

Ryan was facing towards him, and there was nobody in the vicinity as he examined his trimmed foreskin, turning his dick in his fingers. As far as Luke was concerned, they could have been standing in the middle of Macy’s, and he wouldn't have cared! Behind the cup, which was behind the jock, which in turn was behind the front edge of his shirt, he was struggling with a full-fledged throbber.

Unaware of the carnage he was causing, Ryan released himself, snagged the towel around his waist and moved in the direction of the showers. He hesitated, stopped and turned back again. "But if you ask me," he began, but he got no further, as Milton interrupted, shouting from some distance away.

"Alexis! If you're not out of that shower in thirty seconds, so help me, you'll eat detention for a week!"

"Yes, coach!" Ryan barked. He scurried away, leaving Luke staring after him with his mouth hanging open. He never did hear what Ryan was about to suggest, but deep inside his being, the flames of his emerging sexuality took hold and began to burn steadily.

Disappointingly, Ryan didn't seem interested in getting back to that particular conversation anytime that day, and Luke didn't have the nerve to bring it up, either. However, once he was home later that afternoon, he decided he was quite ready to heed his friend's advice.

It was high time to trim his pubes.

He knew it had to be done anyway, as the upcoming surgery had already demanded it. In truth, he’d been holding off until there would be no more school locker room settings—the better to keep everything under wraps. However, the way he was feeling that afternoon, that hardly figured anymore! It was all he could do to not run upstairs to find a trimmer the minute he got in the house!

* * *

Extract from Luke’s notes:

Toby's mum dropped us off at home that day. We got back to the house just in time to get a wave from Mum as she pulled off the drive to go shopping. She said she would be an hour, so I guessed I had an hour and a half—plenty of time for what I had planned.

I'd already figured out what I would do once the house was clear, and knew Dad had some hair clippers with an adjustable attachment for different lengths. He'd gone through a phase of wearing a beard—me and Si called it his ‘midlife crisis’, which was quite an apt description for the straggly thing he tried to grow! Mum had got him the trimmer, which was a good one and had various attachments, to try to help, but it was a lost cause. He still had the thing, though it was rarely used and he kept it in a drawer in their bathroom. It made quite a buzzing noise, so I knew I would have to do this when Simon was out too, or he’d immediately come investigating—and THAT I could do without!

My plan depended on Simon going out, and was this: when I was alone, I would plug it into the socket in our bathroom, do a little judicious trimming over the loo ­and then flush it all away. Simple!

But, damn him, Simon, who usually pushed off fairly soon on an afternoon like this, didn't seem in any hurry to leave that day! Quite often he would go out almost straight away, either up to Toby's, or to the nearby skate park to meet with friends from out subdivision. Frequently I would even wish he would stay around more often, but today I wanted him out the door ASAP.

I mooched around trying to kill time and trying to avoid looking suspicious, but it seemed he’d suddenly developed a taste for hanging about and doing nothing!

Good God....why now!??

Several times, I went to the downstairs toilet and had a look at my pubic bush, trying to decide how I would make the best trim of it. Most of the time, I was as hard as a rock!

Bloody hell, Si! Come on! It felt like he was deliberately trying to frustrate me and I was getting irritated big time!

* * *

“I'm off out,” Simon said at last, wandering up to Luke's room, “I'll think I’ll go over to the skate park."

Looking up from a text book, Luke nodded, trying to appear nonchalant. Ears attuned to his movements, he could hear Simon make his way through to the garage, where he seemed to clatter around endlessly.

What the hell was he doing?

Then, finally, the garage door opened and, as Simon biked away, Luke could see his brother's skateboard protruding out the top of a backpack. He watched him carefully through the blinds out of his bedroom window, making sure he disappeared around the corner and didn't reappear. Then, as soon as the coast was clear, he hurried through to his parent’s room and into their bathroom to retrieved the trimmer.

Back in his own bathroom, with trimmer at the ready, he quickly dispensed with the jeans and boxers—and then hit a snag. A problem became immediately apparent. The length of the cord was nowhere near long enough to stretch from the socket (which was near the sink), over to the loo. Somewhere in the house, there would be extensions, but not only did he not know where they were kept, he didn't have any time to go searching!

At the same time, what he needed to avoid was hair all over the carpet, as that would then mean finding a vacuum cleaner to sort it out. The vacuum was heavy, and being caught lugging it up the stairs by his mum invited questions.

What to do? Damn, this was getting complicated.

He checked his watch. Time was running out.

First he tried standing near the sink, with a plan to somehow lean over it, but the height and position were all wrong. The only thing that made sense at that point was to climb up onto the counter top and, without busting anything, straddle the sink itself. Then he could quickly trim his bush and the hairs could easily be washed away.

It seemed bizarre, but anything was better than nothing. In fact, he decided, it might even be the best plan anyway. There was plenty of light and having the mirror would help him trim it right.

After clearing a good space amongst the toiletries and wearing nothing more than a baggy t-tee shirt, he hopped up onto the cream laminate top and carefully rested his knees either side of the sink bowl. The mirror covered the whole wall above the wide counter in which the sink was mounted, and he studied his mirror image that was watching and copying his every move.

Time seemed to stop as the two took stock of each other, measuring up like combatants in an upcoming struggle. His doppelganger voiced an unspoken question.

What are you going to be?

He felt he knew the answer, but wasn't ready to say it. Instead, he lifted off the tee shirt and threw it to one side. Even without words, it was a moment of frank honesty.

During the last couple of minutes, as he’d been fretting about how to set this up, his arousal had diminished. Now, as he reached out and touched the mirror, he came up—hard and ready. Coming from the same genetic stock as his younger brother, his jaunty erection leaned forward slightly towards the mirror.

Opposite him in the mirror, the boy leaned towards him.

Impulsively, Luke reached to the light switches and flicked on the vanity lights that surrounded the mirror unit. The bulbs glowed seductively, enclosing the two of them and enhancing what was to come. He took a deep breath. Turning off the main lights, the room around him dimmed and the scene was set.

And what was about to happen was this: he was about to have sex with another guy!

He’d studied his peers in the showers for months, although, until faced with Ryan that afternoon, it’d never gone any further than that. He’d doggedly held to the belief that his curiosity meant nothing; his interest purely medical. Now that grip was loosening, the belief fast fading as his anticipation mounted.

He was interested in guys.

There. He'd said it! At least to himself. Staring into the mirror, he let it hang between them like a confession. And if he wanted to see what it was like with another guy, here was one right in front of him; one who knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly what had the potential to arouse him, and still wasn’t put off by it. In fact, he was just as aroused—the perfect partner, quite ready to share himself!

Entering new territory, Luke felt breathless. Stretched across the sink, he was vulnerable yet incredibly turned on. What the guy offered, he wanted, in truth, he needed it...

He was ready.

Gazing at his body in the mirror, he’d never had such a full-frontal and full-on, sexually-charged view of himself before. Without question, he wanted sex in the only way that he knew it. He wanted—needed—to masturbate with this guy. They would do it together; share the incredible moment of release. He groaned and his toes curled as he moved the skin over his shaft. It was already wet at the end and he could have jizzed almost immediately—it would only have taken a few seconds—but he stopped.

Wait. Not yet.

He still had to complete what this was really all about—the icing on the cake of what he sensed would be incredibly intense. For the first time, he admitted it. Ryan was fucking hot, and he wanted to look like that.

He took the trimmer, plugged the cord into the wall socket and switched it on. Like some sexually-charged toy, the long black and silver instrument burst into life, buzzing as expectantly as he was himself. The beard attachment was already in place and, experimenting, he set the length adjuster high.

For the last time, he pushed his fingers into his bushy mound before drawing the trimmer down one side of it. A little hair seemed to be reached by the blades, but not much. Satisfied he was on safe ground, he took it down a few notches and shivered as he drew it across himself again, watching the curls begin to drop into the sink. Stroking repeatedly, he was delighted to see the new Luke Summers appearing.

But the need to go shorter and closer to his skin was like a drug. Just a bit more, just a bit more, he kept goading himself—hanging his obsession on a doctor’s prescription and an unfounded belief that he could easily let it grow before it was noticed. He dropped the notch down further.

He still tried to style it like Ryan’s, and as he kept notching in the adjuster, everything got shorter and shorter. Unlike Ryan’s, his hair wasn't particularly dark, and it began to disappear from view at the edges. He couldn't have stopped if he tried. A fanatic, driven to extremes, he pushed the guard down to its lowest setting, and pressed firmly.

Holy fuck! He groaned and stared at the transformation.

At first, he’d told himself he was simply preparing for the circumcision operation. Now, that was long gone. As the hairs were eagerly stripped away, so was any internal resistance to his sexuality. Without realizing it, as much as the trimming was transforming him on the outside, he knew something big was happening on the inside, too. It was just a patch of hair, but as it diminished, he seemed to grow in stature, becoming potent and virile. The trimmer buzzed at his roots, bringing ejaculation close.

Becoming more skilful with the trimmer, he peeled away at the edges until the skin was almost smooth leaving just a few millimetres in the middle stretching up from the bottom of his shaft.

Finally, it was done.

Holy shit! Yesterday, he might have been appalled to realize how little was left. Now, it felt smoking! Any chance to turn back had long since passed.

He stared longingly into the glass, and the boy stared back at him, the lust and desire there mirroring his own. Suddenly, Luke took the boy in the mirror in his hand, leaned into him, and with a just a few strokes, brought both of them to a shuddering climax.

"OH…SHIT!” It burned up through him. "Nnnnngggggg...."

With a shout, he pressed into the guy in the mirror and pumped helplessly with him and over him. Unable to even think about keeping things neat and tidy, the spurts of semen forced their way past even his constricted opening, squirting onto the glass.

Gradually it slowed and then stopped, to be replaced by an aching in Luke’s thigh muscles from the tension of being balanced over the sink. He leaned against the mirror, perspiring and gasping for breath, staring at his jizz as it began to slide down the glass. Then, cutting across his tumbling thoughts, there came a voice.

"Hello? Simon...is that you?” It called from not to far away, followed by a light tap on the bathroom door at Simon’s side. “Are you okay?”

It was his mum, and Luke froze. "Err...it’s me. I'm just in the loo."

Of course he was in the loo! He berated himself! Had she heard him though? He tried to force his voice to sound normal and stared feverishly at the door, knowing full-well that it was unlocked! What if she opened it and found him like this—kneeling over the sink with hardly any pubes, a full-on wanger and leaning against a mirror that had his semen dripping down it?

How the fuck did you explain that?

"Oh, it’s you.” There was a pause, before she continued. “Do you know where Simon is?”

“Sorry, no…I think he may have gone to the skate park." Even now, his breathing sounded forced. Why couldn't she go away? He stayed stock still, trying not to make any sound that didn’t sound like toilet noises.

“Okay. I'm just putting the kettle on if you want a cup of tea."

TEA? For goodness sake! His legs hurt and he just wanted to get off the sink unit, and all she was worried about was tea? Get lost, Mum!

“Tea sound’s great—I’ll be down in a minute.” Down? He looked at his dick, and out of the mirror, and his mirror-image grimaced, reminding him it wasn’t yet true. Still, his mum seemed satisfied, and it didn’t seem like she planned to come in and help get him off the bathroom counter!

Ears still attuned to sounds outside the bathroom, he heard her pad away. He tried to figure out what she’d heard? Perhaps she had only been on the landing when he’d cried out? Perhaps she only thought he coughed, or had a crap or something?

Shit—he hoped so.

Right then, he had other things to deal with. He had to clean up this mess—and quickly. A little painfully, he climbed down, trying not to make any noise or disturb any of the toiletries. His thighs ached more that he expected.

First things first, he wiped his still-leaking dick with toilet paper, flushed it away and hurriedly dressed. At least he was now in the clear...mostly...

Next, he ran the tap and made sure all the incriminating hairs were no more.

Finally, he had to do something about the mirror. With jizz all over it and greasy spots and hand prints where he had leaned into it, it was a bit obvious. He took a facecloth, wet it, added some shampoo, and cleaned up as best he could. Then he took a towel and dried the glass. The trimmer he unplugged, and after first checking the coast was clear, he sneaked it back into the drawer in his parent’s bathroom.

Checking he wasn't dishevelled or had any other tell-tale signs of his activity, he came downstairs to the kitchen to see if there had been any damage.