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

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

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

"Do you require to find another therapist ? Or a doctor ? Or maybe try a clinical trial… ?"

I shook my head.

I was ready, but the conversation was still hard.

"I want to end it."

We looked into each other's center for a long time, waiting for the former mortal to twinkle. He looked away first and nodded that he understood.

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

"How ?"

I started describing what I wanted. I could tell he was worry, but conflicted. My serious depression aside, we had a just life together.

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

"Think about it ?"

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

To heighten the experience, neither of us had orgasmed in various days. We had edged each other until he had turned purple, strict and veined, and my low trans cock had pulsed with a trice all its own, the many erection refusing to subside for hours.

We arrived late in the evening, 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 last prison term. He lapped my pickle, dry though it remained, and sucked my cock until I couldn't take it anymore and pushed his head away to discontinue the impendent orgasm. I looked down at my picayune friend. Two in for indisputable ; he had never been vainglorious or fuller.

My eyes met Ethan's. He turned onto his stomach and I used my tongue on open and educate his ass a lilliputian. He moaned and gripped the inflexible 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 to a greater extent insight than a fingertip - but the affair of fucking him like that was an alcoholic beverage. I barely pulled away in time to stop myself. I throbbed with pauperism as I looked down at my cock.

"This has to end…"I moaned.

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

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

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

His tongue was hot and wet as it darted in and out of me. That hole never felt properly titillating to me. Not like my ass. But Ethan knew how to process it, how not to wound me, how to let me guard on to my stimulation as he enjoyed my body's little excess golf hole as much as I could allow.

He buried his natural language deep in me. I felt his sass 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 unsatisfied sexual need.

After the dew burned away, giving way to warmth and bright sunlight, Ethan took me into the pull in mountain lake and washed my consistence in the cold, pure body of water. Gently, he washed my close-cropped hair. Then my monotonous, but scarred pectus, pausing to suck my half-numb nipples. Then I allowed him to gently wash inside of me. He pulled back my foreskin and gazed at my half-hard tool just below the surface of the 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 evening before. He laid me down and fret the edge of his deal between my legs, grazing my sensible cock. 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 prospicient fingers through my hair.

Next came the constraint. They were soft, but secure against my articulatio radiocarpea and ankles, supporting my lower branch so I would have to mean about them. I tested the bonds. He tightened them. He tugged me near to the end of the table so that my ass rested a few inches from the edge. We checked the restraints one final time.

"Perfect,"he murmured. Excitement lit his eyes for a instant. I knew he was getting cryptical into what we were doing.

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

I opened my sass. He slipped his cock between my mouth. I savored the flavor of him and the taste of lake H2O still on his hide. He stroked my tomentum as I gently sucked him, not wanting to make him do, but wanting him to remember all the multiplication he had filled or overfilled my mouth.

He pulled out, leaving a train of thought of pre-cum between his aegir cock and my quivering small lip. I licked it away, savoring its mild flavor.

"I'm going to go preparing you now. Just like we talked about,"he said, going over to a wooden bench that might deliver 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 trunk pilus, but I knew what needed to happen. I forced myself to loosen as he used first the clippers, then a consecutive razor to get rid of all the hair from my mons down to my mother fucker. 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 cock for a mo with the leaf blade, restoring some of my previous arousal.

He stepped away for a bit, to get more of the pecker and provision ready. I turned my question and watched the sunlight play on the rippling lake. Contentment stole over me as the warm cinch blew over my newly bared skin.

Then I felt a flaccid bristled brush slowly stroking my inner thigh. I lifted my question and saw Ethan on a wooden stool situated between my legs. We made eye physical contact and smiled.

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

"William Tell me when you're gear up for your stopping point orgasms."

"Now."

He took all me into his mouth and began to suck me and work with the school principal of my cock with his tongue. I had gone so long with coming that I almost exploded, but managed to accommodate back. He reached up and interlaced his fingers with mine where they were held by simpleness at my incline. I squeezed and grasped his hands tightly.

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

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

I willed my body to relax, opening myself up to him as he gently used his teeth to nibble the base of my rooster. I felt moisture - my pre-cum - dribbling out. His tongue darted low as he tasted me. I bucked slightly at the sensation.

Then I lost dominance. The orgasm stimulate me as Ethan sucked harder and harder on my trans tool. His fingers tightened around mine as he tried to gallop the orgasm. I let it course through me, drawing a cry of pleasure out of me. Then another. And another. The 4th one spent me.

Another almost-too-hard suck and I passed out for a moment, darkness sweeping over me.

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

"good ?"

"The good,"I murmured.

He leaned over me and kissed the maculation on my thorax where my top surgery scars nearly came together. Our eyes met. He held my regard for a recollective time.

"Ready ?"

"Absolutely,"I confirmed a fiddling sleepily.

I closed my middle I listened to the sound of him stirring the Olea europaea oil in its ceramic bowl. The sound was reassuring, soft and strong. Almost holy in its susurration.

He started applying the sun-warmed oil at the top of my mound with a weighed down brushing in short, even strokes. Then down the bend between my thighs, left and then right.

One lumbering stroke from the base of my still-throbbing cock, nearly sending me over the edge again, all the way down to my unstrain arse.

Then a pause and the speech sound of stirring. A smaller brush coated my outer lips. I moaned as he applied a secondly portion of oil. He slowly applied oil to the delicate inner crease as well, using the brush to play with my opening. Fingers or anything bombastic had always hurt me, but the encounter was as welcome as a tongue. He coated just inside me, but no more.

He worked his way down to my favorite hole. After long, teasing moments of coating me with olive oil, I felt the strong end of the light touch enter me. He played with me using that diminutive legal instrument, inserting nearly its full length into my sylphlike hole.

Then he paused again.

The following implement, tiny as an artist's brush, stroked oil onto my sensitive cock. I quivered, feeling it coat the natural subcision of its underside, filling the cleft with strong oil. Then around my glans. Then under my foreskin. Ethan slid it back, coating my putz, and then used the skin to distribute the oil. I moaned as he repeated the process.

"Can you fare again ?"he asked, using thumb and forefinger to lightly flick me.

I answered with a moan.

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

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

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

"I know."

I closed my center as tried not to recall too a great deal about it as he lifted my rosehip with one arm beneath me. I canted my hips open to consecrate him well entree, straining against the ankle joint restraints. He placed a funnel into my possibility and pouring olive oil into it. The touch sensation wasn't unpleasant. I could feel it filling me up.

"O.K. ?"he asked after enough had gone in.

"Out…"I managed.

He removed the funnel shape and stroked between my legs. I calmed and felt like myself again. He toyed with my foreskin just enough to get me laborious. He applied a little more oil, More to pleasure me than aid in the cooking process.

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

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

He nodded and arranged me in a easy position again. Then he reached for a tiny bowl of spices - a rub we had created that would provide a good smell, but that would induce me only a modest amount of pain. It contained a tiny bit of meat tenderizer as well.

To his deferred payment, he started slow and in less sensitive arena, beginning with my mound and inner thighs. Then the duration of my slit. Then he pulled my prepuce back again. He didn't jerking me this time. He was too focused on applying the spicery to my semi-hard cock.

It burned a little as he pulled my foreskin over the coating. I moaned at the unfamiliar adept, neither entirely afflictive or entirely gratifying. He coated the outside as well. I raised my head for a moment to observe. My pink phallus looked so different with its dusting of spice, hardly like a penis at all, except for the tiny glistening glans that protruded from its sheath.

"Your piece look to a greater extent like food now,"he confessed, following my gaze.

"Uncooked nutrient,"I said as our eyes met.

He finished gently seasoning my opening, which dribbled superfluous olive oil.

"clock time to see how this works,"he murmured, wiping his hands and stepping away from the table.

I rested back for a moment, listening to him cultivate with one of the gadgets he had acquired to cook me. It was like a skewer, but a little over an in thick and perhaps two feet long. The end was naturally stark, but it had come with several attachments, including one that resembled a nail or specialise spike.

"180 academic degree Gabriel Daniel Fahrenheit ?"

"To start,"I agreed.

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

I relaxed as a good deal as I could, knowing this would be the firmly component for both of us. Ethan placed a hand on my lower abdomen to stop me from squirming. I closed my eyes and felt the hot alloy gliding easily into my forepart hole.

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

"Beautiful…"he breathed.

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

He took his hired man off my stomach and stroked my cock to soothe me. The sudden high temperature made me hamper hard.

"No…"

"Then we'll have to pierce the top of my hole,"I said, referring to the place the surgeon had closed me after my hysterectomy.

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

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

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

Ethan took a trench breath, but kept the skewer steady.

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

"Three count ?"

"Sure."

I started the count, adjusting my side slightly, wondering if I could contend enough military group in constraint, wondering if my husband would balk. I could finger the tweak 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 inches, maybe six.

I took a deep breath.

"Three."

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

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

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

The skewer was far enough 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 subside he gently stroked my soft cock, trying to give me joy through the experience.

"You need to turn up the heat. I want to go through this…and I don't eff how that's going to work,"I confided gently.

He nodded and bent down to osculate my flaccid penis. That candy kiss was like the number one in a series of good-byes.

I couldn't feel the heat as he increased it. This was a slow 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 circle over my impart nipple, protecting the tissue 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 chest. Why do this to my nipples ?

"Practice,"I had told him simply.

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

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

I moaned softly. Ethan's own cock twitched in answer. He stroked himself with his free people hand. fantasy long-ignored were now coming to life.

I never really felt the fire on my nipple. Just heat in the surrounding tissue, even through the protective ring. I watched him hit various ho-hum passes. Then he tested it with a fork. Satisfied, he switched off the Aaron's rod and put it aside.

He removed my browned nipple with a paring knife and the fork as I watched him. Another swift pass with the torch stopped the bleeding.

"The initiatory course,"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 fork with his teeth.

"Chewy. Tastes a little like Canadian Roger Bacon,"he pronounced.

I could sense a light prickle of pain where he had taken the nub from, but nothing I couldn't manage. My abdomen cramped from the skewer.

He chewed with obvious pleasance. His cock dribbled. He pinched the slit closed to stop himself from coming.

I cramped a little harder. He glanced down at my dick. I could finger his impatience.

"I need to turn 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 flabby cry escaped my lips as I felt something tearing inside of me.

"Let it out, infant. There's no grounds to confine 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 fork out,"he said, running a fingertips down my taint.

He lifted his finger so I could see the coating, too dense and fertile to be European olive tree oil alone.

He licked the digit clean with a gratify sound.

"Let me taste."

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

"I'm going to use the rest as lube,"he told me."I'll have the skilful of both holes when I finish you."

"low gear things first…"I said nodding to my remaining nipple.

A schoolboyish smile came to his brass as he grabbed the kitchen woolly mullein and protective ring again.

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

He switched on the torch and began massaging the promontory of his cock with his free hand. We both knew I didn't have convention sensation in my chest of drawers, but the idea still thrilled us both. His cock began to weep as he lightly ran the sorry flaming over my right pec. I felt more warmth than pain.

I watched with rapturous tending as my pelt gave off a petty steam. I moaned.

He let go of his pecker and started cooking the tit in earnest. He seemed more convinced with this one, encouraged by his achiever with the first.

I cramped a minuscule as the skewer began to increase in heat, but tried not to motivate as Ethan delicately cut the cooked material body from my chest of drawers and quickly cauterized the bleeding. A little nerve pain, but naught I couldn't manage.

"Do you want this one ?"he asked, extending the fork to me.

"Don't waste product it."

He took the teat into his lip, lightly chewing it, and then opened to show me the results. It looked like any meat now, not a pap. Maybe part of a baked ham.

"A footling crispier. Better,"he pronounced."When I do your stopcock, it'll be perfect."

He moved to my groyne against and ran his fingers along my heavy lips. Pleasure rippled through me.

"These need to occur 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. Hesitation, gone.

The skewer made that part difficult, but it needed to stay inside me recollective to finish cooking the interior of my presence trap and surrounding tissue. Even at 225 level, I still had a ways to go. We weren't even sure I'd still be around to appreciate the result or if that much cooking would defeat me prematurely. It was always a gamble.

He thumbed my shaft lightly as he considered his options.

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

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

He nodded and gripped the hold. A minuscule bit of sinfulness played across his fine-looking cheek. His early hand went back to my cock.

"Don't play with you food for thought,"I admonished playfully, preparing myself for the skewer's harsh movement.

"Yes, daddy."

He slowly turned the skewer, and again I felt tearing inside, but this time the pain sensation was diminished. virtually of the cheek were perfectly now. I let out a long groan of release, knowing that all the pain and suffering that jam had caused me was over now. Finally.

"You're sticking a niggling, 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 suck me ?"he asked."While we wait ?"

"I want to suck us,"I corrected, lifting my coxa a little.

He began coating himself with the render fat still pouring steadily out of my maw. My oral cavity watered.

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

I turned my straits and took his entire distance. He gently fucked my mouth, filling it with the taste of falsify mancunt. His bridge player touched my chest where my tit had been and trailed downward to my cock.

He pulled out before I had finished savoring the taste, not wanting to pass himself in my sassing. He had far more worry plans for that growing load.

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

"Be careful with them later,"I warned.

He grabbed his earpiece and took a few pictures of my chest. Then he paused and looked at me intently.

"You're glowing…"

"I'm happy now."

He touched my cheek and took a few pictures of my facial expression from different angles.

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

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

"nip and tuck your motherfucker up a picayune. perfect tense. Now flex your cock…okay. I'll be wanking to these for the relief of my life."

"Not ace after ?"

"Oh, those too,"he assured me.

He showed me the motion-picture show. I could narrate that my opening was well done around the skewer. My asshole gleamed with fork up fat.

By then, it was meter for the skewer to get out. He unplugged the force to it and waited a moment for it to cool just slightly. I listened as Ethan arranged a tray for the instrument and a arena for the nitty-gritty he would harvest.

"Here we go,"he warned.

I let out a scream of pain as he pulled the skewer out with one clean Yankee-Doodle, taking a lot of me with it. I lifted my head to see ropey strands of make nitty-gritty, not unlike chicken thigh center - oily and dark - hanging from the skewer. Unable to avail himself Ethan was pulling a string from the skewer with his teeth, trying not to get burned.

He placed the skewer on the tray and feverishly pulled away a lowly, hot objet d'art of flesh.

"You won't believe how this tastes."

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

"Chicken,"we said in unison, laughing.

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

It was a long kiss that tasted like oil, meat, and a hint of spice. He cupped his bridge player around my gaping trap and rubbed my cock with the heel. He squeezed as we deepened the kiss. My body shuddered with a combination of pleasure and absence. My hole suddenly felt cold and damp again. I turned away from the kiss.

"You have to land up this…"

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

I watched the bowl, just within my bloodline of passel, as he overfilled it with meat, pulling chain and expectant pieces out of my hole with careful, methodical fingerbreadth. My consistency relaxed, never feeling an intrusion, only unclouded and cleaner.

"Get it all ?"I asked him, starting to feel a lilliputian fatigued, a little less present than I had a few instant before.

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

I raised my headland a footling and saw that it was lawful. His forearm disappeared under my cock.

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

He swallowed gruelling and gently pulled his arm out of me. He touched my tool, rubbing the glans with an fulsome thumb.

"Okay then."

"Still hungry ?"

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

He referred to our two options. contrive A if it looked like I was fading too fast. programme B if I thought I'd last long enough for the complete experience.

"Plan B,"I assured him.

Ethan stood and picked up the kitchen common mullein again. He tested it to take a shit trusted it was still putting out the decent measure of passion. The brightness of blasphemous flaming danced in his eyes.

Without the mess for support, my lips hung limply downward. He covered my rooster with a protective musical composition of silicone we had sized in advance and began cooking the right flap of tegument. Using tongs he pulled it out and away from me, cooking it until it tore away naturally, like a fade of meat from a roast. He placed it on my tummy so I could see it. Then he did the like with the left.

I felt a funny heat and then a pinching sense impression. My body shuddered from it, but I could not call it precisely pain. Perhaps a certain eccentric of bodily confusedness ? It made me desire to make love something. Rub my turncock against it.

I laughed softly at the simulacrum of rubbing my break piece against a while bed pillow, streaking it with olive oil, rendered fat, and sexual fluids.

"I love your laugh so a good deal,"said Ethan.

He took one of the pieces of and began eating it. I watched him savor it. He reached for his phone and took a few insinuate shots of my newly configured genitalia.

"Could you stand me inside you ?"

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

He videoed himself fucking my gaping former hole.

I raised my oral sex to take care and was startled to see my own cock at rigid attending. Free of the encumbrances around it, my peter looked not much different from Ethan's. More like the cock I should bear been born with. I was overwhelmed by a sudden belief 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 phone down, leaned forward, and kissed my cock.

"honey you,"I whispered to them both.

"Are you ready then ?"he asked me.

"Devour me."

We had had a lot of conversations about this theatrical role, knowing that I might be in too much pain to guide him. So far, it had been salutary, almost entirely pleasurable. I felt weary and a little blurry around the edges, but still very much myself.

Ethan wanted to cook the entirety of my phallus, not just the visible division. That informed our conclusion to fake my interior at a higher temp than strictly requirement. We hoped to pre-cook the enshroud component part of my cock.

I could tell from the esthesis that were still coming from it - want and involve - that we had not been completely successful.

Ethan tested me a picayune with the fork, making this determination for himself.

"Sorry, dear, but this is going to wound 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 number one blow of heat near the base of my rooster, a short in high spirits than where I thought he might start out. Then I realized he was calibrating the common mullein a small bit to handle the thicker meat.

He caressed my thigh.

"This is the best second of my life."

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

He moved the flame in a tardily circle around my prick without touching it. I moaned without reservation, but tried not to move. I could enjoin he planned to cook nearly of my remaining genital tissue and then cook my penis before lifting all of it away as one piece.

I only wished that I could watch, but I had to fold my heart against the chroma of the pain.

A finger stroked the head of my cock.

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

I pried my eye palpebra opened and looked down. Somehow, I had remained hard.

I felt vivid pleasure at the motion, at being able to decide this for us. He slowly moved my dry foreskin back to peril more of my glans. I wanted to experience everything before it was all over.

"offset there, with my head."

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

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

I began to scream and couldn't stop. The hurting was like zippo I had ever experienced in my life, but it also felt like being in the throes of passion. Like an orgasm too intense for the body to see as anything but pain.

I could hear Ethan encouraging me as he worked. He rammed his fist inside me in an effort to proceed me still.

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

"Almost there,"he reassured me.

I heard him alternate off the torch after yearn moments of flaming licking the base of my cook penis. 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 ingest a few pics,"he said, grabbing his phone.

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

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

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

He put his earpiece down and removed the simplicity from my wrists.

Slowly, I slid my tingling hands down my stomach and over my partly cooked mons veneris. I touched my pecker very lightly. It felt completely strange to me. Using my thumbs and forefingers, I made the shape of a heart around it.

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

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

After a few pawl, I slowly began moving my hand back to their comfortable spatial relation at my side. As I ran my right deal over my agglomerate, I felt a firearm of ready heart. I took it in my fingertips and brought it to my mouth. It was a fiddling dry, but tasted familiar.

"Can I celluloid you doing that ?"

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

I turned my head to look out Ethan grip his peter and moving picture 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 aphrodisiacal. Not many hombre can eat themselves."

"doe that imply you're ready to eat me ?"

"I am ready for the briny course."

I watched him seize the knife and fork he would use to remove the cooked shaft from my organic structure. He cleaned the edge of the blade.

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

I chuckled at his choice 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 pressure here and there as Ethan worked. I felt a hint of pain near the top where my mons was only partially cooked. He paused, grabbed the torch again, and finished cooking that part 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 maven drew groan from me that sounded unlike from anything I had heard. Periodically, our eyes would meet.

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

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

Once he started cutting again, I relaxed.

He lifted my trans cock free, tethered only by a prospicient pedicel of nervus and early tissue. He held it aloft on the forking. I could see the pedicle needed additional cooking.

Ethan grabbed the torch and crisped the tissue paper while I watched. Then he leaned down and severed it with his tooth. He made a satisfied speech sound and ate several inches of flesh and nerve.

My oculus drifted from the fork that held my putz to the empty blank space between my stage. It was done. I had lived to see Ethan cook and take away my penis. I felt a rummy maven of joy and ministration. Triumph.

Ethan cleaned up the meat with his finger and tooth and placed it in his mouth with my glans and shot protruding outward. He winked and leaned down. The glans was punishing than I thought it would be when it touched my sassing. I opened my mouth and let Ethan mouth-fuck me with my own prick. I tasted a piffling 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 school principal in one collation - rather like a child with a diminutive easter bunny or oversized sticky 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 get together him in his feast, I reached down and began tearing off hot objet d'art of my impertinently cooked mound. The meat tore away with the texture of electrocute chicken.

Ethan moaned his blessing as he sucked the juice 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 first-class honours degree clock time since adolescence, I put my fingers inside. For once, it felt decent 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 pecker and suck the last of its residue from his own glistening fingers.

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

We kissed for a hanker time. His handwriting came down to join my between my legs. He intertwined his digit in mine and pushed our joined hand into me. The fit was tight but painless. I moved our work force in and out of my pit, shifting my hips upward to let us go deeper. It was every fucking we had never had because of my dysphoria. Our kiss deepened, grew thirsty. I felt a little fluid leaking from the hollow we had opened in my abdominal caries to cook me.

I pulled away and released his hand.

"Are you ready for our last-place sentence ?"I asked him.

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

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

"skin senses me."

Ethan went between my undecided thigh again and gently pushed a fingertip into my unspoiled anus. It wasn't as sensitive, but I could palpate 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 difficulty keeping my oculus surface as Ethan swiftly prepared me, struggling not to rush. First two fingerbreadth. Then three. Then I felt the head of his monumental dick pressing against the tight anchor ring of tissue inside me. I loved that feeling and moaned my gratitude as he partially penetrated me, pulled back and did it again to sharpen my enjoyment.

"I won't be able to fuck 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 answer, save for a pocket-size sound of pleasure at being filled by his cock.

His round was slow, but emphatic as he fucked me. I heard a small sound and felt him place the bowl that contained my manipulate mancunt on my tum. He was eating it as he fucked me.

After long moments of fucking my well-lubricated asshole with powerful strokes that would have once left me gasping and begging for me own release, I felt him stiffen and cry out raggedly with pleasure, press release, and joy. He waited long moments to pull out.

"St. James ?"he asked, catching his hint and placing his helping hand on my chest.

We had hoped while planning this that he would fuck me to death, but I had outlasted his brawny 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 be intimate you."

My intimation were beginning shoal. I knew I only had a few more minutes.

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

"No…just lie on top on me."

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

"All right."

He moved the bowl and rubbed the cold ring it left on my tummy. Then the table shook a little with his added weight. He carefully placed his body on top of mine. I felt him slip his spent peter inside the hole we had made. It felt right to have him there.

"Eat some more ?"I requested.

He began pulling pieces of my cooked mound and eating them by my ear where I could hear to him masticate. Occasionally, he would wipe the succus onto my brim to ploughshare the predilection with me.

The world closed around me. The woods, muckle, and lake were gone. The late afternoon Light 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 lie against my second joint. He wanted me to feel him and know the depth of his pleasure.

My breaths came between longer and longer pauses. I tingled with orgasms remembered. My body replayed them, though the anatomical structure that had provided them no longer remained. Gratitude and a judicious motley of pleasure and contentment filled all the parts of my soundbox I could still find. 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 appease rattle.

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

Then it was all over .