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There were a lot of things I liked about my new step sister, Eleonora. I liked her full figure. I liked her warm voice. I liked how she never got caught smoking. And I liked how she couldn’t keep her hands off my penis. “You know I’m obsessed with willies,” she would often say as we’d be whiling away another lazy afternoon on the sofa, ever so subtly wiggling her big tits and sliding closer. She seemed to own exclusively dresses that almost made her breasts drop out when she moved. And then she would slowly and deliberately reach for my penis, and play with it; sometimes absentmindedly, sometimes intently. But she always got me off sooner or later, usually directing the load elegantly into my trousers. This had gone without incident for quite some time; until a new and eager maid had, upon inspection of my clothing during laundry, decided that I seemed to have a serious masturbation problem, and told on me. It was decided that I would undergo circumcision. “You already are circumcised though,” said Eleonora, running her fingers along the ridge where my foreskin had been cut, revealing about half of my glans. “It’s a semi circ,” she said and smirked. “Boohoo, seems like they didn’t cut off enough. Makes you touch yourself all the time, doesn’t it? So easy to jerk off still. Just pull on it, and it comes all the way forward… unbelievable. I bet you pull this all the way down to cover the glans as often as you can, don’t you; and that is where your masturbation problem is coming from.That can’t have been the idea. They probably hoped it would sit further back when they did you. They often do these because they think it’s enough just to take off the overhanging bit of the foreskin and the frenulum to avoid trouble. Well, seems like that didn’t happen…” And she started rolling the foreskin back and forth over the rim of the glans. Soon I had the most humongous boner. “Getting a bit almanbahis harder now to push it onto the head,” remarked Eleonora and gave it one long, final tug, which had me come into the foreskin she had managed to pull forward far enough to close it in front of the glans. Holding it closed, she shoved my penis back into my undies. “Handy,” she said as she wiped her hands on my jeans. “I’ll be missing this.”  One more for the maid. At the pool one weekend, she approached me wearing her teal bathing suit with pink seams, and sat astride the deck chair I was resting on after my morning swim. “I can see what religion you are through that stretchy fabric of your shorts,” she quipped and rested a long, painted fingernail exactly at the point where the glans was unprotected by the shortened foreskin. I immediately got hard, which she acknowledged with a smirk. The penis simply slid out of the right pant leg and she received it with one hand. The foreskin had slid back. “My,” she said, “it’s trying to trick me, looking more circumcised than it is.” And she played with the loose skin again. “I wonder if they could maybe only take off a little, not exposing the whole glans. That would leave me a bit to play with. How about making it look like an acorn? Just with a short collar of skin, for the ladies to more easily get you off with. But I suppose you would use that yourself, too. And then the maid would keep whinging about all that sperm on your clothes. So I guess now they will need to do a proper circumcision,” she said with a theatrical sigh. “Have you seen what those look like?”  She pushed back on the skin until it slipped behind the corona.  “There,” she said, “this is a low circumcision. Looks just like a retracted foreskin, doesn’t it? Only that it always stays that way. If they do yours like that, you’ll have a lot of sutures right behind your glans, all the way around, right afterwards. almanbahis yeni giriş Sometimes, they do twenty of them or more. And they look scary. Poor thing…” She leaned in close enough to kiss my penis on an imaginary suture line, but didn’t. She let go of my shaft skin, which slid forward again to cover half of the glans. She took a lotus seat position and absentmindedly touched herself as I was thinking how unfair it was that nobody thought of her as the one with the masturbation problem. She had her hands between her legs every time she could, too. “The low circumcisions are quite common as a ritual circumcision, too, by the way,” she continued, playing with a lock of her curly, black hair as one of her fingers was clearly inside her bathing suit, massaging her clitoris. “They usually do those with some sort of metal clamp. Pull the foreskin through, tighten the clamp, and run a knife along it. Snipdeedoo, so quick… done before you know it. Clamp off, skin snaps right back. But you don’t have enough foreskin to do it that way, I fear. Too bad. So neat when they do them that way.” I watched as she massaged herself to orgasm, all the while holding her breasts with her other hand. It never took her very long, but she did get wet easily. I could see the fabric darken where a small, dark spot had formed on her crotch. “Look at you,” she said flushed and a little breathlessly, when she opened her eyes again, “so erect. I’ve never seen your thing this huge before. And that’s pre-cum seeping out, running down the top of your glans, isn’t it. And it’s trickling right down to that thick, chopped-off foreskin stub of yours. That’s not hygienic.” She grasped it with one hand and made it look like a low circumcision again. “Wonder what it might be like to jerk off with if they do you like this, with a low style?” she asked, beginning to pump the shaft skin up and almanbahis giriş down. “Let’s practise that a bit. See how we’d like it. The skin would stop just as it touches the glans, right…?” she said in her extra husky voice. “That’s the idea behind a real circumcision. No skin folds to be pushed onto the glans. And then it will become less shiny than now; and it will smell like a hand or arm. You will always feel it touching your clothes, the entire length of your glans. I sometimes wonder if properly circumcised guys have boners all the time, inside their undies?”  She touched herself again, lightly, and pushed up her breasts. Her nipples were rock hard. “I think I could still get you off with a low cut,” she said pensively, pumping my shaft skin.    “From what I hear though,” she confided after a sip of her sherry, “they’ve made your appointment with Doctor Bancroft.” She pulled up an eyebrow for emphasis. “Now, she wouldn’t be doing a low circumcision. She’s actually famous for doing high ones; and they’re pretty… tight, from what I hear. She is of the opinion that men should fuck, not wank.” She pulled the shaft skin toward the base of the penis. “It will look like this. With the scar line at least halfway down the shaft. That’ll very likely curb your masturbation problem. As soon as you get an erection, all the skin on your dick will be taut. And for quite some time, you won’t be able to masturbate, because that would mean touching the glans directly. And that would be too sensitive…” With one, well-practised motion, she dropped her large, slightly saggy breasts out of her bathing suit and engulfed my penis in them with the skin still pulled back tightly. I immediately came like mad, and she had an outrageous amount of semen all over her neck and hair. “I’m afraid they’ll do you extra tight,” she said with another theatrical sigh as she got up and left the room to clean herself up. “Might be a game changer.” Dr  Bancroft was nowhere to be seen as I entered the clinic on the day of the appointment. Instead, a curvy nurse who seemed like a Marilyn Monroe impersonator was drinking coffee at her desk.

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