My cock was throbbing with desire….I had to have a release, my nuts were aching. I went to bed and layed there stroking my cock. I could see her bea...tiful face smiling at me in my mind. I shot my wad all over my stomach and chest, what a load. It was running down the sides of my stomach, the thick part of it laying in gobs looked like it was melting and turning into a thin clear fluid. I cleaned my self off with the damp towl I had brought with me. I had let the thoughts of fucking my Mother,. One every two and a half minutes. And this is the second decade of the twenty-first century! Even if ninety percent of those people return, or are traced, it still leaves sixty a day; predominantly – who’d have guessed it? – men. But if even a tiny handful of those men suffered a fate like Specimen Five’s, their return home would be very newsworthy. Therefore, if ‘Castration Festivals’ really happened we’d have heard about them. So the films weren’t documentaries. They couldn’t be. Then it. More

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