“ Ethan, I'm still not getting any amend,"I told him, walking up behind where he sat watching smut on his laptop.

My husband wasn't jerking off yet. Just looking for something to watch, maybe getting in the humor. He was the sweetest guy I had ever been with, but his tastes tended toward extreme BDSM, torment, and snuff. I never understood it, at to the lowest degree not entirely, but I accepted his kinks.

He turned a little and hooked his arm around my waist.

"Do you want to feel another therapist ? Or a doctor ? Or maybe try a clinical trial… ?"

I shook my head.

I was gear up, but the conversation was still hard.

"I want to end it."

We looked into each other's oculus for a recollective time, waiting for the other person to blink. He looked away first and nodded that he understood.

"Ethan…I want you to be able to enjoy it…"

"How ?"

I started describing what I wanted. I could tell apart he was matter to, but conflicted. My severe depression aside, we had a sound life history together.

"James…"he said, softly, reluctantly. He was betrayed by the growing prominence in his pants, unable to deny some interest in what I was offering him.

"Think about it ?"

We rented a place in the mountains. It was betimes summer - not too hot, but warm enough for us to both be naked outside. The cabin had modern agreeableness that were mostly run on solar power and a quiet-enough back-up generator.

To heighten the experience, neither of us had orgasmed in various sidereal day. We had edged each other until he had turned purple, rigid and veined, and my smaller trans cock had pulsed with a wink all its own, the many hard-on refusing to subside for hours.

We arrived late in the even, unpacked our things, and made sure the equipment met our needs. Everything was just as expected for us. We got everything set up and ready to go for the morning.

That night we edged together one cobbler's last clock time. He lapped my hole, dry though it remained, and sucked my cock until I couldn't take it anymore and pushed his chief away to stop over the imminent orgasm. I looked down at my minuscule friend. Two inches for sure ; he had never been bigger or fuller.

My eyes met Ethan's. He turned onto his stomach and I used my tongue on open and organize his ass a little. He moaned and gripped the rigid eight inches that protruded from between his thighs.

"Fuck me as hard as you can for as long as you want."

I knew I was only just inside him - hardly Thomas More penetration than a fingertip - but the intimacy of fucking him like that was an inebriant. I barely pulled away in time to stop myself. I throbbed with need as I looked down at my cock.

"This has to end…"I moaned.

Ethan threw me down on the bed and covered my tender rooster with his hand.

"I'm going to tongue-fuck you,"he warned.

"As harder as you can,"I begged him, spreading my mouth and opening myself to him.

His lingua was hot and wet as it darted in and out of me. That hole never felt properly erotic to me. Not like my ass. But Ethan knew how to treat it, how not to hurt me, how to let me guard on to my foreplay as he enjoyed my body's little duplicate hole as practically as I could allow.

He buried his natural language deep in me. I felt his lips move, over and over.

"I love you. I love you,"he spoke into me like a benediction.

We spent the ahead of time dawning by the lake, naked and with a feeling of contentment tinged with unsatiated sexual need.

After the dew burned away, giving way to warmth and hopeful sun, Ethan took me into the light mountain lake and washed my trunk in the cold, pure water. Gently, he washed my close-cropped pilus. Then my monotonous, but scarred chest, pausing to suck my half-numb nipples. Then I allowed him to gently wash inside of me. He pulled back my prepuce and gazed at my half-hard cock just below the surface of the body of water. He lifted me out just enough to buss my sensitive glans before finishing the bath.

He carried me to the mesa where we had prepared it the eventide before. He laid me down and rubbed the boundary of his deal between my peg, grazing my raw hammer. I bucked playfully against him. He smiled and kissed me hungrily.

He dried me with a soft towel, patting the water from my skin and raking his recollective fingers through my hair.

Next came the restraints. They were soft, but secure against my wrists and ankles, supporting my humiliated limbs so I would have to think about them. I tested the Bond. He tightened them. He tugged me closer to the end of the tabular array so that my ass rested a few inches from the edge. We checked the chasteness one last time.

"Perfect,"he murmured. hullabaloo lit his middle for a moment. I knew he was getting deeper into what we were doing.

His cock had hardened much Sir Thomas More than mine had and stood at full tending against his muscular abdomen. I felt a thrill of joy that he was having this experience with me, with my body.

I opened my mouth. He slipped his cock between my lips. I savored the spirit of him and the perceptiveness of lake pee still on his tegument. He stroked my whisker as I gently sucked him, not wanting to fix him add up, but wanting him to remember all the time he had filled or overfilled my mouth.

He pulled out, leaving a screw thread of pre-cum between his eager cock and my quivering lower lip. I licked it away, savoring its meek flavor.

"I'm going to lead off preparing you now. Just like we talked about,"he said, going over to a wooden workbench that might have once been used for picnics or craftwork.

"Go ahead,"I encouraged, making myself more comfortable.

"I'll be shaving everything I plan to eat…"

"I understand."

I preferred having body hair, but I knew what needed to happen. I forced myself to relax as he used first the clipper, then a straight razor to take all the tomentum from my mons down to my arse. He brushed the shorn hair away and massaged the area.

"Never again,"he promised.

I chuckled softly, knowing he was right. Never again.

He teased my softened rooster for a moment with the blade, restoring some of my previous arousal.

He stepped away for a moment, to get more of the putz and supplies fix. I turned my question and watched the sunshine fun on the rippling lake. Contentment stole over me as the warm cinch blew over my newly bared skin.

Then I felt a lenient bristled brush slowly stroking my interior second joint. I lifted my chief and saw Ethan on a wooden commode situated between my leg. We made eye contact and smiled.

He lifted a bowl of Olea europaea oil so that I could see it, but set it aside. He leaned forward and kissed my cock.

"Tell me when you're ready for your last orgasms."

"Now."

He took all me into his backtalk and began to suck me and play with the head of my putz with his tongue. I had gone so long with coming that I almost exploded, but managed to hold back. He reached up and interlaced his fingers with mine where they were held by simplicity at my side. I squeezed and grasped his hands tightly.

He sucked my rooster until was rock hard and I was squirming with the need for release.

"James, relax. Let me do the gruelling work,"he said."I got this."

I willed my body to loosen up, opening myself up to him as he gently used his dentition to nibble the base of my stopcock. I felt wet - my pre-cum - dribbling out. His natural language darted low as he tasted me. I bucked slightly at the sensation.

Then I lost control. The climax didder me as Ethan sucked harder and harder on my trans cock. His fingers tightened around mine as he tried to extend the orgasm. I let it flow through me, drawing a cry of pleasure out of me. Then another. And another. The fourth one spent me.

Another almost-too-hard suction and I passed out for a consequence, shadow sweeping over me.

He had let go of my hands. I was disoriented for a consequence until I felt a kiss on my inner thigh.

"Good ?"

"The best,"I murmured.

He leaned over me and kissed the spot on my pectus where my top OR cicatrix nearly came together. Our eyes met. He held my gaze for a long time.

"Ready ?"

"Absolutely,"I confirmed a little sleepily.

I closed my eyes I listened to the sound of him stirring the olive oil in its ceramic bowl. The sound was reassuring, piano and potent. Almost holy in its susurration.

He started applying the sun-warmed oil at the top of my mound with a heavy brush in brusk, even strokes. Then down the crimp between my second joint, left and then right.

One heavy stroke from the bag of my still-throbbing cock, nearly sending me over the edge again, all the way down to my decompress shit.

Then a pause and the sound of stirring. A modest brush coated my outer brim. I moaned as he applied a second fate of oil. He slowly applied oil to the delicate inner plica as well, using the coppice to act with my possibility. Fingers or anything heavy had always hurt me, but the brush was as welcome as a clapper. He coated just inside me, but no more.

He worked his way down to my dearie hole. After long, teasing moments of coating me with olive oil, I felt the firmly end of the brush enter me. He played with me using that tiny instrumental role, inserting nearly its full length into my supple hole.

Then he paused again.

The side by side implement, tiny as an artist's brush, stroked oil onto my sensitive peter. I quivered, feeling it coat the natural subcision of its undersurface, filling the crack with quick oil. Then around my glans. Then under my prepuce. Ethan slid it back, coating my slam, and then used the skin to spread the oil. I moaned as he repeated the process.

"Can you issue forth again ?"he asked, using thumb and forefinger to lightly jerk me.

I answered with a moan.

He squeezed harder and jerked me faster. I came with a sharp cry, almost too medium to culminate. He released me.

I lay still as he waited for the predisposition to lessen.

"I've got to do inside of you now,"he warned gently after a moment.

"I know."

I closed my eyes as tried not to retrieve too much about it as he lifted my hips with one arm beneath me. I canted my pelvic girdle open to give way him intimately approach, straining against the ankle control. He placed a funnel into my initiative and pouring olive oil into it. The feeling wasn't unpleasant. I could feel it filling me up.

"okey ?"he asked after decent had gone in.

"Out…"I managed.

He removed the funnel and stroked between my leg. I calmed and felt like myself again. He toyed with my foreskin just enough to get me severely. He applied a little more oil, Sir Thomas More to pleasure me than aid in the preparation process.

"Are you sure about this percentage ?"he asked after I had relaxed.

"I don't want you to eat unseasoned meat…"

He nodded and arranged me in a comfortable situation again. Then he reached for a tiny bowl of spicery - a rub we had created that would leave a thoroughly flavor, but that would cause me only a modest amount of pain. It contained a tiny bit of meat tenderizer as well.

To his credit, he started slow and in less sensitive orbit, beginning with my hummock and internal thigh. Then the length of my slit. Then he pulled my foreskin back again. He didn't saccade me this clip. He was too focused on applying the spices to my semi-hard cock.

It burned a little as he pulled my foreskin over the application. I moaned at the unfamiliar maven, neither entirely painful or entirely gratifying. He coated the outside as well. I raised my straits for a moment to watch. My pink member looked so different with its dusting of spices, hardly like a penis at all, except for the tiny glistening glans that protruded from its sheath.

"Your parts look Thomas More like food now,"he confessed, following my gaze.

"Uncooked food for thought,"I said as our centre met.

He finished gently seasoning my possible action, which dribbled excess olive oil.

"clip to see how this works,"he murmured, wiping his bridge player and stepping away from the table.

I rested back for a minute, listening to him work with one of the gadgets he had acquired to cook me. It was like a skewer, but a little over an inch midst and perhaps two feet long. The end was naturally blunt, but it had come with several affixation, including one that resembled a nail or narrow spike.

"180 level Fahrenheit ?"

"To start,"I agreed.

"It's ready to go into you then."

I relaxed as much as I could, knowing this would be the firmly role for both of us. Ethan placed a bridge player on my abject belly to stop me from squirming. I closed my center and felt the hot metallic element glide easily into my front hole.

I hissed in bother and shuddered, but kept still enough for him to take the skewer all the way into me.

"Beautiful…"he breathed.

"Is it in far enough ?"I asked through clenched teeth.

He took his hand off my stomach and stroked my cock to ease me. The sudden hotness made me cramp hard.

"No…"

"Then we'll have to pierce the top of my jam,"I said, referring to the stead the sawbones had closed me after my hysterectomy.

"I'm not sure…"he hesitated, balking of the idea of ramming the period of the heated skewer into my abdomen.

We both knew that was the point-of-no-return. Right now, we could contain, clean up, and call it a day. After that, it was all and everything. No one-half metre. No coming back.

"I'll helper you. You push up on it and I'll push down,"I told him.

Ethan took a deep breathing place, but kept the skewer steady.

"Okay. I can do that,"he said, squaring his shoulders.

"trinity count ?"

"Sure."

I started the counting, adjusting my status slightly, wondering if I could grapple enough force in restraint, wondering if my husband would balk. I could feel the hint of the end of the skewer. I felt instinctively that it was exactly where it needed to be. We only needed it to go in another four column inch, maybe six.

I took a cryptic breath.

"Three."

He pushed and I pushed. I bellowed in sudden painfulness as the skewer piercing me. I felt several column inch of hot metal slide through me. Then, a gush of liquid.

"Fuck…"Ethan breathed. He could see the fluid pour out of my fix. I could only feel it.

"It's not a lot,"I assured him, trying to becharm my breath and acclimate to the pain.

The skewer was far adequate inside me that Ethan could let go. He stroked my thighs as I experience spasm after spasm from the cramping and pain.

As that began to sink he gently stroked my diffuse cock, trying to dedicate me pleasure through the experience.

"You need to turn up the heating plant. I want to concluding through this…and I don't know how that's going to work,"I confided gently.

He nodded and bent down to kiss my flaccid phallus. That buss was like the commencement in a series of good-byes.

I couldn't feel the oestrus as he increased it. This was a tedious method. Just how we both wanted it.

"200 degrees ?"I asked as he got some more equipment ready.

"Yeah."

He brought a red, donut-shaped piece of cookware-grade silicone over to me. His cock was hard again as he placed the circuit over my allow for pap, protecting the tissue paper around it, but leaving it exposed. He adjusted the positioning slightly.

When we had talked about my chest, Ethan had been confused. I liked my dresser. Why do this to my nipples ?

"recitation,"I had told him simply.

He had understood immediately. He could do this to my nipples without concern of failure. My dick was a one-shot great deal. He had to get that right hand or risk spoiling everything.

Ethan turned and took a culinary torch from among his tools. My heart and soul started beating fast as he tested it and got complete wild blue yonder flame out of it. My cock twitched, knowing that soon that flame would turn it from a potent sex organ to a bit of food.

I moaned softly. Ethan's own cock twitched in response. He stroked himself with his justify hired man. Fantasies long-ignored were now coming to life.

I never really felt the fervor on my nipple. Just heating system in the surrounding tissue paper, even through the protective ring. I watched him make several dull laissez passer. Then he tested it with a ramification. Satisfied, he switched off the woolly mullein and put it aside.

He removed my embrown mammilla with a paring knife and the fork as I watched him. Another swift strait with the common mullein stopped the bleeding.

"The first grade,"he said in a husky voice, thick with lust, holding the nipple where I could see.

"Go on…"I urged.

He took it from the ramification with his teeth.

"Chewy. Tastes a slight wish Canadian bacon,"he pronounced.

I could feel a fire up sticker of pain where he had taken the center from, but nothing I couldn't manage. My stomach cramped from the skewer.

He chewed with obvious pleasure. His shaft dribbled. He pinched the dent closed to stop himself from coming.

I cramped a niggling harder. He glanced down at my cock. I could feel his impatience.

"I need to bend the skewer. Then we'll do the other one,"he finally said.

He took the skewer by the hold and slowly began turning it. A soft cry escaped my lips as I felt something tearing inside of me.

"Let it out, baby. There's no cause to declare anything in now,"Ethan urged me softly.

The tearing stopped.

"I'm turning the temp up a piffling,"he informed me.

"225 ?"

"Yeah…although I think you're already begin to render,"he said, running a fingertips down my taint.

He lifted his finger's breadth so I could see the coating, too blockheaded and deep to be olive oil alone.

He licked the fingerbreadth clean with a fulfil sound.

"Let me taste."

He traced a swirling shape from my opening all the way to my asshole. He brought his fingerbreadth to my waiting mouth. We gazed into each other's eyes as I licked his finger, enjoying the saltiness of my own juices.

"I'm going to use the quietus as lube,"he told me."I'll have the ripe of both kettle of fish when I finish you."

"First matter first…"I said nodding to my remaining nipple.

A schoolboyish smiling came to his face as he grabbed the kitchen blowlamp and protective ring again.

"Don't use that,"I insisted."Burn me a little."

He switched on the torch and began massaging the head of his stopcock with his free paw. We both knew I didn't have formula sensation in my chest, but the idea still thrilled us both. His cock began to cry as he lightly ran the wild blue yonder flame over my right pec. I felt more warmth than pain.

I watched with rapt care as my cutis gave off a footling steam. I moaned.

He let go of his cock and started cooking the nipple in earnest. He seemed more surefooted with this one, encouraged by his succeeder with the first.

I cramped a small as the skewer began to increase in heat, but tried not to move as Ethan delicately cut the cooked human body from my chest and quickly cauterized the hemorrhage. A trivial nerve pain sensation, but nothing I couldn't manage.

"Do you require this one ?"he asked, extending the ramification to me.

"Don't waste it."

He took the nipple into his mouth, lightly chewing it, and then opened to prove me the resolution. It looked like any meat now, not a mammilla. Maybe part of a broil ham.

"A little crispier. wagerer,"he pronounced."When I do your cock, it'll be perfect."

He moved to my groin against and ran his fingerbreadth along my heavy backtalk. pleasance rippled through me.

"These need to come off first."

We had talked about that part, but he had been uncertain then if he would be able to do what was needful here. Now, he was under a spell. falter, gone.

The skewer made that part difficult, but it needed to stay inside me longer to terminate cooking the interior of my movement fix and surrounding tissue. Even at 225 degrees, I still had a ways to go. We weren't even for sure I'd still be around to apprize the solvent or if that much cooking would kill me prematurely. It was always a gamble.

He thumbed my shaft lightly as he considered his options.

"Turn the skewer again,"I recommended, lifting my head to watch him play with me.

He squeezed spice and oil from beneath my foreskin. I nearly came.

He nodded and gripped the hold. A little bit of evil played across his freehanded look. His early hired hand went back to my cock.

"Don't gambol with you food,"I admonished playfully, preparing myself for the spit's harsh movement.

"Yes, daddy."

He slowly turned the skewer, and again I felt tearing inside, but this time the bother was diminished. well-nigh of the brass were utterly now. I let out a tenacious groan of sack, knowing that all the hurting and suffering that pickle had caused me was over now. Finally.

"You're sticking a little, but I don't think too bad. Maybe fifteen more minutes."

I relaxed. We had time. I wasn't going anywhere yet.

"Perfect."

"Do you want to soak up me ?"he asked."While we wait ?"

"I want to soak up us,"I corrected, lifting my hips a little.

He began coating himself with the fork over fat still pouring steadily out of my hole. My mouth watered.

"I'll try not to come in yet,"he promised.

I turned my nous and took his intact length. He gently fucked my mouth, filling it with the sense of taste of make mancunt. His manus touched my chest where my mamilla had been and trailed downward to my cock.

He pulled out before I had finished savoring the tasting, not wanting to spend himself in my mouth. He had far more worry programme for that growing load.

"I'm going to take aim some pictures, okay ?"he asked, knowing we still had a few minutes before he could remove the skewer and cook his prize.

"Be thrifty with them later,"I warned.

He grabbed his telephone and took a few photograph of my thorax. Then he paused and looked at me intently.

"You're glowing…"

"I'm happy now."

He touched my buttock and took a few pictures of my typeface from different angles.

"Show me what's down there,"I urged him.

He grinned and moved between my legs. I heard a few clicks.

"Lift your asshole up a little. Perfect. Now flex your cock…okay. I'll be wanking to these for the rest period of my life."

"Not 1 after ?"

"Oh, those too,"he assured me.

He showed me the moving picture. I could narrate that my opening was well done around the skewer. My asshole gleamed with rendered fat.

By then, it was time for the skewer to occur out. He unplugged the baron to it and waited a moment for it to cool just slightly. I listened as Ethan arranged a tray for the instrument and a bowl for the heart and soul he would harvest.

"Here we go,"he warned.

I let out a shrieking of pain as he pulled the skewer out with one clear Yankee-Doodle, taking a lot of me with it. I lifted my promontory to see stringy fibril of misrepresent marrow, not unlike chicken thigh substance - oily and dark - hanging from the skewer. Unable to help himself Ethan was pulling a string from the skewer with his tooth, trying not to get burned.

He placed the skewer on the tray and feverishly pulled away a small, hot composition of flesh.

"You won't believe how this tastes."

A moment later I found out as he fed me a ardent opus of the inside of my hole.

"Chicken,"we said in unison, laughing.

"The easily chicken I've ever had in my life,"he said, kissing me.

It was a long kiss that tasted like oil, meat, and a hint of spices. He cupped his hand around my gaping fix and itch my stopcock with the heel. He squeezed as we deepened the buss. My body shuddered with a combination of delight and absence. My hole suddenly felt cold and damp again. I turned away from the kiss.

"You have to finish this…"

"I know… I will, love, I will,"he assured me, taking a seat on the stool and returning to his work.

I watched the bowlful, just within my line of sight, as he overfilled it with meat, pulling strands and bigger pieces out of my gob with careful, methodical fingers. My dead body relaxed, never feeling an trespass, only tripping and cleaner.

"Get it all ?"I asked him, starting to feel a little fatigued, a slight less award than I had a few minutes before.

"Every scrap. I'm almost up to my elbow inside you,"he said with a schoolboyish grin.

I raised my chief a little and saw that it was true. His forearm disappeared under my cock.

"I think I'm starting to fade a little."

He swallowed grueling and gently pulled his arm out of me. He touched my putz, rubbing the glans with an oily thumb.

"Okay then."

"Still hungry ?"

"I am for this,"he affirmed."Plan A or Plan B ?"

He referred to our two selection. be after A if it looked like I was fading too fast. program B if I thought I'd last foresighted enough for the staring experience.

"Plan B,"I assured him.

Ethan stood and picked up the kitchen torch again. He tested it to make sure it was still putting out the right sum of hotness. The lightness of gamy flame danced in his eyes.

Without the hole for support, my lips hung limply downward. He covered my cock with a protective piece of silicone we had sized in advance and began cooking the right flap of cutis. employ tongs he pulled it out and away from me, cooking it until it tore away naturally, like a gash of meat from a joint. He placed it on my breadbasket so I could see it. Then he did the like with the left.

I felt a curious heat and then a pinching hotshot. My torso shuddered from it, but I could not call it precisely pain. Perhaps a sealed type of somatic disarray ? It made me want to hump something. Rub my cock against it.

I laughed softly at the image of rubbing my ruined percentage against a spell bed pillow, streaking it with European olive tree oil, rendered fat, and sexual fluids.

"I love your laughter so much,"said Ethan.

He took one of the objet d'art of and began eating it. I watched him savor it. He reached for his phone and took a few intimate shots of my newly configured genitalia.

"Could you stand me inside you ?"

For the first time in our ten years together, I was able to tell him yes. He put his cock inside me ; I felt no discomfort or pain.

He videoed himself fucking my gaping old hole.

I raised my head to look and was startled to see my own hammer at strict aid. Free of the encumbrances around it, my stopcock looked not much different from Ethan's. More like the cock I should possess been born with. I was overwhelmed by a sudden touch of self-love and gratitude not just for this experience, but for all the years of pleasure my cock had given me.

As if sensing this, Ethan pulled out of me. He put his earphone down, leaned forward, and kissed my cock.

"making love you,"I whispered to them both.

"Are you set up then ?"he asked me.

"Devour me."

We had had a lot of conversations about this contribution, knowing that I might be in too practically painful sensation to guide him. So far, it had been good, almost entirely pleasurable. I felt tired and a little blurry around the boundary, but still very a good deal myself.

Ethan wanted to cook the integrality of my penis, not just the seeable part. That informed our conclusion to cook my interior at a higher temp than strictly necessary. We hoped to pre-cook the hidden parts of my cock.

I could assure from the sensations that were still coming from it - deficiency and need - that we had not been completely successful.

Ethan tested me a little with the fork, making this conclusion for himself.

"Sorry, love, but this is going to hurt a little more than we planned."

"I'm ready for it,"I reassured him.

I heard him switch the kitchen torch on, but still flinched at the first flak of heat near the base of my cock, a little higher than where I thought he might get down. Then I realized he was calibrating the great mullein a little bit to manage the thicker meat.

He caressed my thigh.

"This is the well moment of my life."

"Mine too,"I managed as the painfulness began to increase.

He moved the flame in a slow rotary around my cock without touching it. I moaned without reservation, but tried not to move. I could state he planned to cook most of my remaining genital tissue and then misrepresent my penis before lifting all of it away as one piece.

I only wished that I could catch, but I had to close my eyes against the intensity level of the pain.

A finger stroked the head of my cock.

"Almost done. Just pauperization to do him. Would you prefer base to tip or tip to free-base ?"he asked in a Eskimo dog voice, almost unable to speak from sheer pleasure.

I pried my eye chapeau open and looked down. Somehow, I had remained hard.

I felt intense pleasure at the question, at being able to resolve this for us. He slowly moved my dry foreskin back to expose more of my glans. I wanted to experience everything before it was all over.

"Start there, with my head."

Ethan grinned and said,"I knew you'd want that."

He took a deep breath and steadied his manus before applying the tongue of blue flame to the tip of my cock.

I began to shout out and couldn't plosive. The painful sensation was like nothing I had ever experienced in my life, but it also felt like being in the throe of passion. Like an orgasm too intense for the body to sympathize as anything but pain.

I could get wind Ethan encouraging me as he worked. He rammed his clenched fist inside me in an effort to hold me still.

My screaming softened to groan as he progressed to my foreskin and then down my rotating shaft. He pulled his arm out of my cavernous hole. He was moaning too with longing.

"Almost there,"he reassured me.

I heard him switch off the torch after prospicient moments of flaming licking the base of my cooked member. My body relaxed. I opened my eyes and gazed down at his work. It was browned and glistened with perfectly cooked fat. It was perfection.

"I'm going to take a few picture,"he said, grabbing his phone.

"Please…"I agreed softly, knowing how much he would want them later.

I heard a few soft clicks. He positioned me a little more favorably. I couldn't palpate it. Everything had gone numb, the heart completely burned out.

"Ethan, you can take the restraints off now."

He put his phone down and removed the restraints from my wrists.

Slowly, I slid my tingling hands down my stomach and over my partly cooked mons. I touched my prick very lightly. It felt completely foreign to me. Using my thumb and forefingers, I made the shape of a meat around it.

"This is the depiction I want you to have."

"God, James, that's perfect,"he breathed.

After a few clicks, I slowly began moving my paw back to their comfy position at my face. As I ran my right-hand hired hand over my mound, I felt a piece of misrepresent meat. I took it in my fingertips and brought it to my sassing. It was a footling dry, but tasted familiar.

"Can I film you doing that ?"

"Sure,"I agreed, reaching for another small piece.

I turned my head to take in Ethan spellbind his cock and flick me while I chewed. This was almost sending him over the edge.

He grinned as he put the phone aside and said,"That was incredibly sexy. Not many Guy can eat themselves."

"Does that mean you're ready to eat me ?"

"I am make for the briny course."

I watched him grab the tongue and fork he would use to get rid of the prepare cock from my body. He cleaned the sharpness of the blade.

"This shouldn't hurt very much, but I'm going to dig in a little bit."

I chuckled at his alternative of words and tried to relax. I felt very tired, but fidgety too, anticipating the end of our adventure.

I could feel an odd sense of insistency here and there as Ethan worked. I felt a trace of pain near the top where my mons pubis was only partially cooked. He paused, grabbed the flashlight again, and finished preparation that constituent of me, apologizing quietly as I trembled with renewed pain.

The skin down there tightened as he worked. I had exhausted my ability to cry out, but the sensation drew moans from me that sounded different from anything I had heard. Periodically, our eyes would meet.

"James…if you need me to end it, we're at that point, you know ?"

"Not yet,"I assured him."Just work a little faster."

Once he started cutting again, I relaxed.

He lifted my trans cock free, tethered only by a long pedicle of nerves and other tissue. He held it aloft on the branching. I could see the pedicel needed additional cooking.

Ethan grabbed the flannel mullein and crisped the tissue paper while I watched. Then he leaned down and severed it with his teeth. He made a meet sound and ate various inches of anatomy and nerve.

My eyes drifted from the fork that held my cock to the empty place between my legs. It was done. I had lived to see Ethan cook and absent my phallus. I felt a rum wizard of joy and relief. Triumph.

Ethan cleaned up the nub with his digit and teeth and placed it in his mouth with my glans and shaft protruding outward. He winked and leaned down. The glans was tough than I thought it would be when it touched my lips. I opened my mouth and let Ethan mouth-fuck me with my own stopcock. I tasted a trivial salty, but mostly like seasoned pork.

"Thomas More ?"he asked, after pulling away and taking me out of his mouth.

"It's all yours now."

Ethan needed no more encouragement than that. He bit off the head in one pungency - rather like a shaver with a tiny east wind bunny rabbit or oversized gluey bear. I could see it was chewy, but very palatable to him.

"So good…"he managed before taking the foreskin off with his teeth.

Suddenly longing to join him in his feast, I reached down and began tearing off hot composition of my freshly cooked hummock. The meat tore away with the texture of fried chicken.

Ethan moaned his blessing as he sucked the juices from my shaft before biting it off and chewing with obvious ecstasy.

I reached down and found the rough hole between my thigh. For the number 1 time since adolescence, I put my finger's breadth inside. For once, it felt right to me - painless and warm to the touch, but also dry and clean.

I fingered myself as I watched Ethan finish off the base of my prick and suck the utmost of its residue from his own glistening fingers.

"Delicious,"he pronounced, leaning down and kissing me, his spit imparting a lingering hint of my taste.

We kissed for a long clip. His mitt came down to link up my between my peg. He intertwined his finger in mine and pushed our unite bridge player into me. The fit was soaked but painless. I moved our workforce in and out of my pit, shifting my hips upward to let us go deeper. It was every roll in the hay we had never had because of my dysphoria. Our kiss deepened, grew thirsty. I felt a little fluid leaking from the yap we had opened in my ab cavity to falsify me.

I pulled away and released his hand.

"Are you gear up for our last time ?"I asked him.

My vision was blurry, I noticed, as he stood up and looked down at my more than half-devoured intimate area.

"Will you be able-bodied to feel it at all ?"he asked.

"tactile sensation me."

Ethan went between my exposed thighs again and gently pushed a fingertip into my unspoiled anus. It wasn't as medium, but I could feel him.

"Yes ?"

"Yes,"I assured him.

He tested the lubrication - quick European olive tree oil, rendered fat - and asked,"Will you enjoy it like this ?"

"Every moment."

I had trouble keeping my eyes undefended as Ethan swiftly prepared me, struggling not to rush. First two fingers. Then three. Then I felt the headland of his massive prick pressing against the tight ring of tissue paper inside me. I loved that tactile sensation and moaned my gratitude as he partially penetrated me, pulled back and did it again to deepen my enjoyment.

"I won't be able to bed you very long. I'm amazed I've held out this long,"he confessed, gasping as he fully entered me.

I found myself unable to suffice, save for a small sound of pleasance at being filled by his cock.

His rhythm was slow, but forceful as he fucked me. I heard a pocket-size sound and felt him station the bowl that contained my cooked mancunt on my venter. He was eating it as he fucked me.

After hanker here and now of fucking my well-lubricated asshole with powerful solidus that would give birth once left me gasping and begging for me own outlet, I felt him stiffen and cry out raggedly with delight, release, and joy. He waited long moments to tear out.

"James ?"he asked, catching his breath and placing his hand on my chest.

We had hoped while planning this that he would fuck me to Death, but I had outlasted his powerful come.

"Still here,"I mumbled."Good fuck."

"Thanks,"he laughed.

"Thank you…for everything. For letting me have this. For doing it on my terms."

"I've always respected you. And will always love you."

My breaths were beginning shallow. I knew I only had a few more minutes.

"James, I can make it go faster, if you want,"he said gently, feeling the changes in my breathing as he stroked the point on my bureau between my surgery scars.

"No…just lie on top on me."

I wanted him to feel it when I left this world. I wanted to feel him near me until that moment came.

"All right."

He moved the arena and rubbed the frigidness tintinnabulation it left on my venter. Then the table shook a little with his added weight. He carefully placed his physical structure on top of mine. I felt him slip his spent peter inside the hole we had made. It felt right to own him there.

"Eat some more ?"I requested.

He began pulling opus of my cooked hummock and eating them by my ear where I could listen to him chew. Occasionally, he would pass over the juice onto my brim to share the taste with me.

The world closed around me. The Sir Henry Joseph Wood, mickle, and lake were gone. The lately afternoon spark dimmed behind my eyelids. Ethan continued to eat me, chewing slowly and occasionally moaning with desire. His cock grew hard again. He pulled out and let it rest against my thigh. He wanted me to find him and know the depth of his pleasure.

My breather came between longer and longer intermission. I tingled with orgasms remembered. My consistency replayed them, though the structure that had provided them no longer remained. Gratitude and a heady mixture of pleasure and contentment filled all the parts of my body I could still feel. Yes, this was the death I had wanted, had longed for, and that my beloved had given me.

My last breath parted my oil-coated lips with a gentle rattle.

Ethan kissed me softly and spoke words into my ear that I could no longer comprehend.

Then it was all over .