Through The Eye Of A Needle


I knew I was going to change Bansi's life but I had only an hour to do it. I was going to sit him down and explain to him that I've seen more penises than he ever would. They were as varied and infinite as snowflakes. Because of this, I knew his to be a bit peculiar. Should I plunge into the first half hour and give him what he wants? A bout of suffocation and guilty masturbation? Then engage him in a informal and unsolicited adult education consultation?

It was a sensitive topic to broach-with anyone, but never mind a religious virgin who was already conflicted by his desires, a paying client who was from a alien culture. He might misconstrue my words of concern and advice and feel that I was criticizing or making fun of his most precious possession-every man's most treasured possession-his cock. I must tread delicately. I decided to play with Bansi first and change his fate later.I figured that I would have his full attention AFTER he had his "release". Because we all know how difficult it is for them to think of two things at the same time. Submissives are still men.

We played a game of lassoing his head for awhile as I laughed uncontrollably. He seemed to sincerely enjoy my unbridled mirth. I caught him making warm, bovine brown eyed looks in my direction, as shy as a milk maid. I liked him greatly. I enjoyed his open enthusiasm, his natural and frank character and above all-corrupting his innocence. He wouldn't need it anymore. It was a useless commodity for which no one had any use for. Innocence is a quality that unless you were a child, our culture had only contempt. We were a nation of Elmer Gantry like hustlers. If Bansi stupidly clung to his innocence, he would be devoured alive by my country. However, he seemed as eager as I, to help him shake off his cloak of repression. One he wore lightly already, on his shoulders.

I decided after all, to feed into his need. At first I stood astride him on the floor. I clenched a pillow in my hand and both my fist on my corset clad hips. I locked eyes with Bansi and spoke of a wondrous island where splendid Amazon, lesbian women lived. I crouched above his whimpering face and slowly, with deliberate malice, pressed the pillow over his face. He was touching himself as he thrashed about wildly, like the receiver on the other end of a mercy killing. I couldn't get my breath for laughing.

We had a half hour to go.

"How do you clean it?" I asked after we collected ourselves.

"I take a q-tip and did in alcohol, of course". I winced. He looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Listen Bansi, I want to tell you something and I need for you to listen to me. What I'm about to say is very serious".

He looked up at at me with some alarm as he slipped on his sandles and nodded.

"I think that you would have to agree that I have seen more penis than you. Yours is the only one that I've ever seen that has this tight foreskin. Do you know what that is'? He shook his head. Fuck. I pointed it out to him and explained how he shouldn't HAVE to clean his cock out with burning rubbing alcohol.

"I urge you to fix this. I promise you, your whole sexual life will change". I elaborated on the joys of his future, uninhibited explosive orgasms, how he could embrace a sting free method of hygiene and the lack of shame he would feel regarding his own sexual desires. He listened wide eyed as a boy listening to a bed time story. I made him promise to google photos of different male genitalia and to research tight foreskins and to study the relatively quick and painless procedure that would allow him to un-muffle the joys of his own cock.

"Do you really think this...fantasy, this thing will stop in my head?" He burst out in miserable urgency. "I feel so guilty all the time. It is very strange and soon I will be married. I am fearful that she will be disgusted by my wanting her to sit of my face or for her to smother me."

"I bet she knows less than you do. Many women would give anything to have a husband that wants that. It's called oral sex. Google that, while you are at it. That is a skill that every man should have in order to encourage a happy marriage. Do it right and you will make a slave of your own. You might not lose the compulsion, but it may lessen. If you don't make a big deal out of it, she won't think twice about it".

He saw me to the door and we exchanged a heart felt hug. I drew back, clasped his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.

"Promise me you will call a Doctor. Have him look at it. I know he will see the same thing that I do and with one simple office visit he can help you." He nodded.

I thought about him often and when I finally heard from him, it was later, when I was about nine months into my new career. His e-mail read as follows:

My Dear Miss,

I did as you suggested and made an appointment with my new Doctor, once I started my job and got insurance. He agreed that I would have much sensitivity as well as having an easier time with hygiene. I did go through the procedure and although not painless it was well worth it. You were right Miss. I experience sensations I never have before. I still fantasize about suffocation, but I have been reading about techniques for oral sex, at your suggestion. I am engaged and will be married in three months, so please forgive me I ask you not to respond to this e-mail. I hope life finds you well. You are a wonderful person and you have changed my life."

I knew it.

Ironic that I can't use this testimony in a resume. Ironic also, that Bansi had insurance and I didn't.

But I had cable and he didn't even own a television.