ThoughtsI lie in darkness, the quiet of the dorm suggests the hour is late. Restrained as always by my neck, I feel the swirl of water, my dangling scrotum immersed in the temperature controlled liquid of the trough between my thighs. Tonight it feels cooler. As explained the testes produce better at lower temperatures. With each set of balls being different, lab tests will eventually determine the ideal setting for mine.
I must also surmise that the trough liquid is not pure water but is tainted with a depilatory. Miss Beth has expended little time shaving me there over the past few mornings. Thus with little feminine effort there results a clean, plump and hairless scrotum for exhibition during pasture time.
Wakefulness brings thought and such cannot be diverted from the disturbing con
