Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

see how I can omit this part of the examination. Stand upplease and put down that shirt." "Oh, come on, pleasedon't..." His voice broke again, close to a sob. "Do as Isay." On that note of icy command, he stood up slowly andlike a man going to his execution--or a schoolboy to hisspanking--he put down the shirt and stood dumbly facingme. "Come over here." He came to within a few inches ofwhere I was sitting; he was so close that my knees touchedthe warm fur of his shins. "Now let's see what kind of studyou really are." "Please..." He whispered. "I don't want to. Itisn't right." Deliberately I took the Jockey shorts by theelastic waistband and pulled them slowly, slowly down,enjoying each station of his shame. The first glimpse wasencouraging. The base of the penis sprouted from thebronze bush at an angle of almost forty-five degrees, anearnest of vitality. It was well over an inch wide, always agood sign, with one large blue vein down the center, againpromising. But another three inches of slow unveilingrevealed Rusty's manhood in its entirety, I slid the shorts tothe floor. When I looked up at his face, I saw that onceagain the eyes were shut, the lips trembling. Then I carefullyexamined the object of my long and arduous hunt, at lastcaptive. A phrase of Myron's occurred to me: "all potatoesand no meat." Rusty's balls were unusually large andimpressive; one lower than the other, as they hung bulllikein the rather loose scrotal sac. They were all that I coulddesire. The penis, on the other hand, was not a success,and I could see now why he was so reluctant to let me seejust how short it is. On the other hand both base and head