Manly Pursuits
GAY, TESTICLES
A gay teenager has a tragic hunting accident which turns out for the best.
I was never masculine enough for my father. I am interested in opera, ballet,
art, etc. while "real men" are supposed to be interested in sports, hunting,
fishing, in other words, manly pursuits.  
From my 17th birthday on, my father was always nagging me about dating and
marriage. I should be thinking about getting married and raising a family of
my own. I don't think that he ever realized (or was willing to admit) that I
am homosexual.  
He was always dragging me to sports events, baseball games, football games,
boxing matches, etc. The only ones I ever liked were the wresatling matches.
In fact, I always kept my jacket in my lap to hide the fact that I had a
boner. Often I had to get up and go to the john and jerk off. For that matter,
I had to jerk off before hitting the showers after a gym class in high school
to keep from getting a boner.  
Of course, in the Fall, we had to go hunting every weekend during deer season.
Thank God, I never had to gut a deer. I'd have puked all over it. Luckily, dad
is very near-sighted and couldn't hit the broad side of a barn from inside.  
So, we'd go out in the woods with a couple of surplus Springfield .30-06's
bought from Norm Flayderman. I'd keep shooting at trees and saying "Damn !
Missed him." Dad, of course, never bagged anything either.  
One day, though, while we were engaged in wasting ammunition there came a low
boom from the right. Shotguns weren't legal for deer hunting, and it was
certainly the sound of a 12-ga. shotgun. The boom was followed immediately by
a tearing scream from my throat. A 12-gauge solid slug had passed through my
trousers, my undershorts, my bag. my balls, my bag. my undershorts, and my
pants in that order. I fell down clutching at the mess that just before been
my balls, shrieking in agony.  
Another hunter came on the run, from the left ahead of us, carrying another
.30-06 like ours. We never saw any sign of the hunter with the shotgun. He and
dad carried me to our car and drove to the emergency room at Benson Memorial
Hospital. State police car pulled in behind us, but, inasmuch as both dad and
the other hunter were honking their horns and flashing their headlights, he
recognized an emergency when he saw one.  
Of course, all they could do at the hospital was to remove the wreckage of my
balls. When dad came into my room, I said bitterly "So much for "manly
pursuits." Dad never nagged me about masculinity again and left me alone to
enjoy my favorite indoor sport, cocksucking.  

* * *