You can call me Allan.

It isn't exactly my name, but I'm a physician and sometimes the net can get you the wrong kind of publicity. Also, I live in Southern California, in a town facing the ocean between LA and San Diego, so, all year round, five or six thousand miles of Pacific swell piles up against the beach and there are big, good-looking guys out there in the surf. I need to keep my reputation because when they get it wrong and they need medical help I want them to ask for mine. And yes, you'll find me in the surfer bars maybe a couple times a week, even out on a board among the waves from time to time. They know I'm not good the way they are, not any longer, not many guys coming up to fifty are. And somewhere there between LA and San Diego when the wind and the surf were not quite right I met English Dave. He pulled me back to the beach on his shoulder, one day when I misjudged things; I went down face forward and my board hit me on the thigh, hard enough to make me stumble and then stumble again when I put my weight on it.

It hadn't exactly been dangerous, but it hadn't exactly been safe, either, so I offered him a drink at the café behind the beach. We sat with the espressos between us at a table near the window. He looked me in the eye and in that English voice he said, "The guys say you're gay. So am I".

That's what I am. So I said so. Then he said "And the guys say you're a doctor. I think I need to talk to you."

"Because you're gay?"

"No. Not exactly"

"Why, then?"

"I'll fix an appointment and tell you, shall I?"

So I gave him my business card, and two days later he was in my office. I had a better chance to look at him now; you could see he wasn't American - he had the blond, surfer-boy look but he was smaller, wirier; somehow English guys have good muscles but on different bones.

"OK," I said, "so tell me."

"You're going to think this is stupid."

"Try me."

"I need to be circumcised."

Well, well, well. Now, what can I tell you? Not exactly what I'd expected, not exactly a surprise.

So I said, "Here in the States we often recommend it on medical grounds. I know they don't do it so much in England any more. But it isn't stupid. I'd better take a look." I was looking forward to that. I swiveled my chair round. "Stand up, come round here, and drop your pants."

So he did. Now, understand me, I'm a professional and I treat my work seriously. Even so, I gave just a very little intake of breath, because this guy's dick was beautiful. How can I put it - size isn't everything, but there's a lot to be said for it. Shape, too. I had to stifle the urge to slip it into my mouth.

"I can't quite see the problem," I said. "Could you pull the foreskin back for me?"

He did so, and as I'd expected it went back all the way, nice and loose. The head of his dick was beautiful, too, with a good flare to the rim, now it was released to the open air.

"Is that as far as it goes?"

He pulled it right back till it was tight. His dick wasn't hard, but the handling was beginning to have an effect. Come to that, it was beginning to have an effect on me.

"OK," I said. "Let it roll back, and get dressed."

When he released his skin it came back of its own accord, rolling back over the furrow and the rim of the cock-head. He pulled up his pants, adjusted himself, zippered up and sat back on the patients' chair.

I looked at him. You see, I have to say it again, I'm a professional physician. I swore the oath, not to administer unnecessary treatment. And let me be frank, there were no medical reasons for cutting this guy. So I thought I should tell him.

"Dave, you don't need to be circumcised. I've never seen a guy who needed circumcision less. Dave," I thought I had to ask, "why do you think you need to be circumcised?"

He flushed, and looked really embarrassed. "I just know I need it."

"Ah, well, I have to tell you. We can go with it. But, there are some things we have to think about, here. Like, you won't get this on your insurance."

"I don't have that kind of insurance, anyhow."

"OK, I'll need to charge you. Otherwise, I don't have insurance, either."

"The guys said you'd look after me."

The guys. Hmm. I thought we'd come back to that one.

"I will," I said, "but it has to be right. Normally I'd charge five, six hundred dollars for circumcising an adult male. But, you pulled me out of the sea, so we could give you a discount. Say, maybe, I could charge a hundred dollars?"

"I could manage that." He sounded so English! "Today?"

I grinned and shook my head. "You haven't seen my schedule. Thursday?"

"That's three days away."

"Sorry. I need to re-arrange some things. This is serious stuff. Thursday at four o'clock?"

And he was there, of course. I knew he would be. We filled in the consent forms and stuff together, and I took his hundred dollars, cash. You have to understand something here. I'd seen his dick, and in fantasyland I'd have paid him to let me morph it into something even more beautiful. In real life? In America? I need to keep my insurance.

And when that was done, I looked him in the eye. "You signed the release," I said, "and it says you're getting cut because you want it, not because you need it."

He nodded.

"So why? I mean, I'm all in favor, but why you?"

He flushed red again. Then he took a deep breath and said, "It's the guys."

"The guys?"

"See, they're all straight guys, well, mostly straight, they've got girlfriends."

"I know that."

"Only . . . "

"Only?"

"They’re all athletes, the surfer guys. Well, I mean, they're kind of physical. And sometimes, well, you know, things happen."

"Like, someone gets a blowjob? Like, everyone gets a blowjob? Dave, I've been in the surf since I was sixteen years old. Like you say, things happen." Then my mind clicked in. "Oh, like, almost everyone gets a blowjob?"

He looked at me. "They know I'm gay, and they don't care, because I'm good in the surf. And I get to suck their dicks. And I like that, I like that a lot. But they won't suck mine. And," he grinned, "that sucks!"

"And that's why you're here?"

"Yes."

"OK, we can fix that. I'll give you a dick the straightest guy will want in his mouth."

"Promise?"

"Promise." And I shook hands on it.

"Right," I said, "this is Steve who is going to assist me. You need to strip and lie on the table."

Steve smiled at Dave. "Strip behind the screen," he said.

Soon we had a naked guy on the table. We covered Dave in the paper shroud, and Steve slit the hole in it to bring through his penis.

"We use the Gomco," Steve said. "You want a neat cut, don't you?"

"I don't know what a Gomco is."

"It's a circumcision clamp. It does it real neat."

I'd scrubbed up. Steve had the tray prepared. Spray, clamp, scalpel, sutures, anesthetic. English Dave shivered.

"I don't like needles."

"You won't feel it. Look at the wall."

I know about guys who don't like needles. So we have a screen on the wall with postcards from everywhere Steve and I have ever been. Grand Canyon, Niagara, Copacabaña, Paris, Rome, Berlin. A guy looks at them, Steve gives me the spray, we numb the skin and I slip in the fine, fine needle. He doesn't know it has happened until he looks down again and realises I'm rubbing the last of the anesthetic into the base of his shaft and he can't feel it at all. Actually that is a strange feeling, and some day I'll tell you how I know.

"Can you feel this?" I pick up the scalpel and put a mark on his dick, a bit more than an inch behind the place where the rim of his glans showed through his foreskin.

He smiled. "No."

"Is that where you want the ring?"

"You put it where you think. I trust you."

"Right. Then that's where it goes."

The Gomco has a bell to cover the glans, a ring to press against the bell through the skin and a mechanism to pull the bell tight against the ring. Sometimes you need to slit the skin to get the bell under a tight foreskin, but English Dave was loose and easy. I fitted the ring just over the mark I'd made and slipped the bell under the skin. It takes skill to adjust the bell and the foreskin to remove exactly the right amount, but I've forgotten how many times I've done this, so I knew when I tightened the clamp there would be just the right amount of skin either side of it.

"Right," I said, picking up the scalpel. "One last thing. Are you sure you want this?"

"Go for it," said English Dave.

So I did. Steve has assisted me before, so he always knows exactly what to hand me, and what to take away. It doesn't take long, and Dave was a young, fit guy so there wasn't much bleeding. The clamp helps with that, too. What takes time is the sutures. I'm real careful with them. I make them very fine.

Then Steve and I wrapped Dave's cock up in dressings and gave him some painkillers and advice.

"If you have discomfort, take the stuff. If it's pain, come and see me. Sleep rolled up on your side. I want to see you Tuesday, early, and again next Friday, we'll take the sutures out then. That way there shouldn't be marks. I want a neat result, y'hear?"

"So do I," he said, "oh so do I!"

Well, he came, both times, and everything looked good. I took out the sutures, and I have to admit that I enjoyed holding my handiwork.

"When can I use it?"

"Another week. Have you been back in the surf?"

"Not yet."

"That won't do any harm. Just make sure you dry off carefully."

I didn't see him for a week, maybe two. Then one Sunday I was in the surf, and so was he. He gave me that English double thumbs up. So I guess it worked!