A Table by the Lake

“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 watch, maybe getting in the mood. He was the sweetest 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 little and hooked his arm around my waist.

“Do you want 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 eyes for a long 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…”


I started describing what I wanted. I could tell he was interested, but conflicted. My severe depression aside, we had a good life together.

“James…” he said, softly, reluctantly. He was betrayed by the growing bulge 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 early summer – not too hot, but warm enough for us to both be naked outside. The cabin had modern amenities that were mostly run on solar power and a quiet-enough back-up generator.

To heighten the experience, neither of us had orgasmed in several days. We had edged each other until he had turned purple, rigid and veined, and my smaller trans cock had pulsed with a heartbeat all its own, the many erections 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 time. He lapped my hole, dry though it remained, and sucked my cock until I couldn’t take it anymore and pushed his head away to stop the impending orgasm. I looked down at my little 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 prepare 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 more penetration than a fingertip – but the intimacy of fucking him like that was an intoxicant. 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 sensitive cock 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 erotic to me. Not like my ass. But Ethan knew how to treat it, how not to hurt me, how to let me hold on to my arousal as he enjoyed my body’s little extra hole as much as I could allow.

He buried his tongue 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 early morning 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 clear mountain lake and washed my body in the cold, pure water. Gently, he washed my close-cropped hair. Then my flat, but scarred chest, 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 cock just below the surface of the water. He lifted me out just enough to kiss my sensitive glans before finishing the bath.

He carried me to the table where we had prepared it the evening before. He laid me down and rubbed the edge of his hand between my legs, grazing my sensitive 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 long fingers through my hair.

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

“Perfect,” he murmured. Excitement lit his eyes for a moment. I knew he was getting deeper into what we were doing.

His cock had hardened much more than mine had and stood at full attention 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 feeling of him and the taste of lake water still on his skin. He stroked my hair as I gently sucked him, not wanting to make him come, but wanting him to remember all the times he had filled or overfilled my mouth.

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

“I’m going to start preparing you now. Just like we talked about,” he said, going over to a wooden bench 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 clippers, then a straight razor to remove all the hair from my mons down to my asshole. 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 moment with the blade, restoring some of my previous arousal.

He stepped away for a moment, to get more of the tools and supplies ready. I turned my head and watched the sunlight play on the rippling lake. Contentment stole over me as the warm breeze blew over my newly bared skin.

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

He lifted a bowl of olive 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.”


He took all me into his mouth and began to suck me and play with the head of my cock 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 restraints at my side. I squeezed and grasped his hands tightly.

He sucked my cock 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 cock. 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 control. The orgasm shook 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 suck and I passed out for a moment, darkness sweeping over me.

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


“The best,” I murmured.

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


“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, soft and strong. Almost holy in its susurration.

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

One heavy stroke from the base of my still-throbbing cock, nearly sending me over the edge again, all the way down to my relaxed asshole.

Then a pause and the sound of stirring. A smaller brush coated my outer lips. I moaned as he applied a second portion of oil. He slowly applied oil to the delicate inner folds as well, using the brush to play with my opening. Fingers or anything larger had always hurt me, but the brush 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 hard end of the brush enter me. He played with me using that tiny instrument, inserting nearly its full length into my supple hole.

Then he paused again.

The next 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 warm oil. Then around my glans. Then under my foreskin. Ethan slid it back, coating my shaft, and then used the skin to spread the oil. I moaned as he repeated the process.

“Can you come 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 sensitive to climax. He released me.

I lay still as he waited for the sensitivity 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 think too much about it as he lifted my hips with one arm beneath me. I canted my hips open to give him better access, straining against the ankle restraints. He placed a funnel into my opening and pouring olive oil into it. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant. I could feel it filling me up.

“Okay?” he asked after enough had gone in.

“Out…” I managed.

He removed the funnel and stroked between my legs. I calmed and felt like myself again. He toyed with my foreskin just enough to get me hard. 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 unseasoned meat…”

He nodded and arranged me in a comfortable position again. Then he reached for a tiny bowl of spices – a rub we had created that would provide a good 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 areas, beginning with my mound and inner thighs. Then the length of my slit. Then he pulled my foreskin back again. He didn’t jerk me this time. He was too focused on applying the spices to my semi-hard cock.

It burned a little as he pulled my foreskin over the coating. I moaned at the unfamiliar sensation, neither entirely painful or entirely pleasurable. He coated the outside as well. I raised my head 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 more like food now,” he confessed, following my gaze.

“Uncooked food,” I said as our eyes met.

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

“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 work with one of the gadgets he had acquired to cook me. It was like a skewer, but a little over an inch thick and perhaps two feet long. The end was naturally blunt, but it had come with several attachments, including one that resembled a nail or narrow spike.

“180 degrees 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 hardest part 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 metal glide easily into my front 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 hand off my stomach and stroked my cock to comfort me. The sudden heat made me cramp hard.


“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 idea of ramming the point of the heated skewer into my abdomen.

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

“I’ll help you. You push up on it and I’ll push down,” I told him.

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

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

“Three count?”


I started the count, adjusting my position slightly, wondering if I could manage enough force in restraints, wondering if my husband would balk. I could feel the pinch 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.


He pushed and I pushed. I bellowed in sudden pain as the skewer piercing me. I felt several inches of hot metal 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 catch 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 pleasure through the experience.

“You need to turn up the heat. I want to last 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 penis. That kiss was like the first 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.


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 left 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 cock was a one-shot deal. He had to get that right or risk 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 flame would turn it from a potent sex organ to a morsel of food.

I moaned softly. Ethan’s own cock twitched in response. He stroked himself with his free hand. Fantasies 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 make several slow passes. Then he tested it with a fork. Satisfied, he switched off the torch 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 first 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 bacon,” he pronounced.

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

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

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

“I need to turn the skewer. Then we’ll do the other one,” he finally said.

He took the skewer by the handle 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 reason to hold anything in now,” Ethan urged me softly.

The tearing stopped.

“I’m turning the temp up a little,” he informed me.


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

He lifted his finger so I could see the coating, too thick and rich to be olive oil alone.

He licked the finger clean with a satisfied 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 eyes 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 best of both holes when I finish you.”

“First things first…” I said nodding to my remaining nipple.

A boyish grin came to his face as he grabbed the kitchen torch 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 cock with his free hand. We both knew I didn’t have normal sensation in my chest, but the idea still thrilled us both. His cock began to weep as he lightly ran the blue flame over my right pec. I felt more warmth than pain.

I watched with rapt attention as my skin gave off a little steam. I moaned.

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

I cramped a little as the skewer began to increase in heat, but tried not to move as Ethan delicately cut the cooked flesh from my chest and quickly cauterized the bleeding. A little nerve pain, but nothing I couldn’t manage.

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

“Don’t waste it.”

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

“A little crispier. Better,” he pronounced. “When I do your cock, it’ll be perfect.”

He moved to my groin against and ran his fingers along my heavy lips. Pleasure 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. Hesitation, gone.

The skewer made that part difficult, but it needed to stay inside me longer to finish cooking the interior of my front hole and surrounding tissue. Even at 225 degrees, 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 kill me prematurely. It was always a gamble.

He thumbed my cock lightly as he considered his options.

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

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

He nodded and gripped the handle. A little bit of wickedness played across his handsome face. His other hand went back to my cock.

“Don’t play with you food,” 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 was diminished. Most of the nerves were dead now. I let out a long groan of release, knowing that all the pain and suffering that hole 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.


“Do you want to suck me?” he asked. “While we wait?”

“I want to suck us,” I corrected, lifting my hips a little.

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

“I’ll try not to come yet,” he promised.

I turned my head and took his entire length. He gently fucked my mouth, filling it with the taste of cooked mancunt. His hand touched my chest where my nipples had been and trailed downward to my cock.

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

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

“Be careful with them later,” I warned.

He grabbed his phone 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 face 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 of my life.”

“Not ones after?”

“Oh, those too,” he assured me.

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

By then, it was time for the skewer to come out. He unplugged the power 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 meat he would harvest.

“Here we go,” he warned.

I let out a scream of pain as he pulled the skewer out with one clean yank, taking a lot of me with it. I lifted my head to see ropey strands of cooked meat, not unlike chicken thigh meat – oily and dark – hanging from the skewer. Unable to help himself Ethan was pulling a strand from the skewer with his teeth, trying not to get burned.

He placed the skewer on the tray and feverishly pulled away a small, hot piece 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 best 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 hole 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 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 bowl, just within my line of sight, as he overfilled it with meat, pulling strands and bigger pieces out of my hole with careful, methodical fingers. My body relaxed, never feeling an intrusion, only lighter and cleaner.

“Get it all?” I asked him, starting to feel a little fatigued, a little less present than I had a few minutes before.

“Every scrap. I’m almost up to my elbow inside you,” he said with a boyish grin.

I raised my head 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 hard and gently pulled his arm out of me. He touched my cock, 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 options. Plan A if it looked like I was fading too fast. Plan 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 torch again. He tested it to make sure it was still putting out the right amount of heat. The light of blue 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 skin. Using tongs he pulled it out and away from me, cooking it until it tore away naturally, like a slice of meat from a roast. He placed it on my stomach so I could see it. Then he did the same with the left.

I felt a curious heat and then a pinching sensation. My body shuddered from it, but I could not call it precisely pain. Perhaps a certain type of bodily confusion? It made me want to hump something. Rub my cock against it.

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

“I love your laughter so much,” 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 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 former hole.

I raised my head to look and was startled to see my own cock at rigid attention. Free of the encumbrances around it, my cock looked not much different from Ethan’s. More like the cock I should have been born with. I was overwhelmed by a sudden feeling 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.

“Love you,” I whispered to them both.

“Are you ready then?” he asked me.

“Devour me.”

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

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

I could tell from the sensations that were still coming from it – want and need – that we had not been completely successful.

Ethan tested me a little with the fork, making this determination 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 blast of heat near the base of my cock, a little higher than where I thought he might begin. Then I realized he was calibrating the torch a little bit to handle the thicker meat.

He caressed my thigh.

“This is the best moment of my life.”

“Mine too,” I managed as the pain began to increase.

He moved the flame in a slow circle around my cock without touching it. I moaned without reservation, but tried not to move. I could tell he planned to cook most 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 close my eyes against the intensity of the pain.

A finger stroked the head of my cock.

“Almost done. Just need to do him. Would you prefer base to tip or tip to base?” he asked in a husky voice, almost unable to speak from sheer pleasure.

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

I felt intense pleasure at the question, at being able to decide 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 hands before applying the tongue of blue flame to the tip of my cock.

I began to scream and couldn’t stop. The pain was like nothing 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 understand as anything but pain.

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

My screaming softened to moans as he progressed to my foreskin and then down my 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 long moments of flame licking the base of my cooked 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 take a few pics,” 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 feel it. Everything had gone numb, the nerves 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 cock very lightly. It felt completely foreign to me. Using my thumbs and forefingers, I made the shape of a heart around it.

“This is the picture I want you to have.”

“God, James, that’s perfect,” he breathed.

After a few clicks, I slowly began moving my hands back to their comfortable position at my side. As I ran my right hand over my mound, I felt a piece of cooked meat. I took it in my fingertips and brought it to my mouth. It was a little dry, but tasted familiar.

“Can I film you doing that?”

“Sure,” I agreed, reaching for another small piece.

I turned my head to watch Ethan grip his cock and film 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 guys can eat themselves.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to eat me?”

“I am ready for the main course.”

I watched him grab the knife and fork he would use to remove the cooked cock from my body. 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 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 fork. I could see the pedicle needed additional cooking.

Ethan grabbed the torch and crisped the tissue while I watched. Then he leaned down and severed it with his teeth. He made a satisfied sound and ate several inches of flesh 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 remove my penis. I felt a curious sensation of joy and relief. Triumph.

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

“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 bite – rather like a child with a tiny Easter bunny or oversized gummy 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 pieces of my freshly cooked mound. The meat tore away with the texture of fried chicken.

Ethan moaned his approval 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 thighs. For the first time since adolescence, I put my fingers 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 cock 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 long time. His hand came down to join my between my legs. He intertwined his fingers in mine and pushed our joined hands into me. The fit was tight but painless. I moved our hands in and out of my cavity, shifting my hips upward to let us go deeper. It was every fuck we had never had because of my dysphoria. Our kiss deepened, grew hungry. I felt a little fluid leaking from the hole we had opened in my abdominal cavity to cook me.

I pulled away and released his hand.

“Are you ready 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 to feel it at all?” he asked.

“Touch me.”

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


“Yes,” I assured him.

He tested the lubrication – warm olive oil, rendered fat – and asked, “Will you enjoy it like this?”

“Every moment.”

I had trouble keeping my eyes open as Ethan swiftly prepared me, struggling not to rush. First two fingers. Then three. Then I felt the head of his massive cock pressing against the tight 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 heighten 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 small sound of pleasure at being filled by his cock.

His rhythm was slow, but forceful as he fucked me. I heard a small sound and felt him place the bowl that contained my cooked mancunt on my stomach. 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, release, and joy. He waited long moments to pull 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 spot on my chest 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 bowl and rubbed the cold ring it left on my stomach. 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 cock 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 listen to him chew. Occasionally, he would wipe the juice onto my lips to share the taste with me.

The world closed around me. The woods, mountains, 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 rest against my thigh. 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 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.

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