In honor of V-day next week (that holiday on which we celebrate saints, love, vaginas, vas deferens, whatever), we’re featuring the stories of three local men who have made the decision to get a vasectomy. They will share their experiences and reflections on having had the procedure and how that decision has affected their lives.
A guest post by “Beast,” a 34-year-old man.
I got married in 1999. My son was born in 2001. My daughter was born in 2006. I got divorced in 2008.
I got a vasectomy in 2010.
I love my children unconditionally (Un-Godly in fact), but I have known for some time now that I don’t want anymore.
For the first time in my life, I found myself in a relationship with a woman who was not on some sort of constant birth control. I love coming in, on, or around women, my preference being the former. In the back of my head I have always known that I would get a vasectomy someday.
When I found out that it would only cost $100 with the type of insurance I carry, I was all about making it happen. I knew I wanted a relatively young doctor, someone with knowledge of the latest advances in technology. I had terrible visions of some old, gray haired doctor who had never evolved with the changing times coming at me with a pair of scissors. FUCK THAT.
I researched a bit online, found someone a few years out of med school and booked the appointment. My partner Kendra was all about going with me to take in every step of the experience. I knew if she was with me, it would be a good time.
The doctor came in and he was exactly what I expected – young, ethnic and nerdy. We chatted for a minute as he gave me the ins and outs of what to expect.
“It’s going to feel like there’s a man squeezing and tugging on your testicles,” he said.
“Can I imagine it is a woman?” I asked.
“Please don’t,” he replied, slightly anxious.
I got my nuts out. He turned around and said, “OH…KAAAY, you’re going to need some help shaving.”
My little Bunny Slut hopped right over and joined the doctor at my nuts. She was all giddy and I could tell there was some crazy cocksucking fantasy going on in her head.
He examined. “Hmmm?? Did you know that your left testicle is smaller than your right?” he inquired.
“Isn’t it cute? I love his little nut!” Slut exclaimed.
“Yeah. I just speak to him in a higher voice and he understands me,” I joked.
I asked him if I could keep the pieces of vas deferens that were cut out. He declined, citing some pathology bullshit. I thought, What the fuck?!?!? Don’t I own them?!??! I guess I wouldn’t get to feed them to Kendra Hannibal Lecter-style after all. Oh well…
Kendra shaved my nuts a couple of days before the surgery which, as it turned out, was more nerve racking for me than the procedure itself. I have trimmed my pubes way down on a number of occasions, but had never shaved them before. She blew me and we fucked. I enjoyed the slickness of it all, as I do when I shave Kendra twice a year or so. I am not going to make a habit of it, but I definitely will shave the next time she does so we can mash our shaved shit together.
I was excited the morning of the surgery. I thought I might get nervous as I got closer to the scalpel, but that never happened.
There I was, nuts exposed, ready to be sliced. They injected some local anesthesia directly into both vas deferens. A few seconds later, my left nut was viced and the sack was slit. There was no pain, just pressure as the doctor had stated.
I could hear when he cut the tube. I could smell when he cauterized the ends with a laser. I could feel the vibration of the sutures sliding through.
I asked the doctor to clarify for me when I was to give my first sperm sample. “Two months.”
“Alright, but how many ejaculations?” I asked.
“Twenty..but feel free to come in before two months if that works out.”
“Good. I can count to twenty pretty quickly, Doc.”
The nurse looked over at me with a inquiring half smile.
About an hour after the procedure, I started to feel the effects. It wasn’t bad at all. It was kind of like I had sat down on the couch abruptly and caught my nuts underneath me. There were a few spasms of sharp pain, but it was totally manageable. I kept them iced down. Fifteen to twenty minutes on, ten minutes off. It was also helpful to bask in the cocktail induced haze of vicodin and Maker’s Mark.
I chilled for the first few hours and then decided it was time to get the countdown started.
I came hard with about three good bursts of still fertile seed. Three days out from the surgery, I hardly noticed any side effects. It’s been a year now, and I’m so glad I got it done.