Keyhole in Time

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