His and Hers Castration Cuisine
TESTICLES, Fine Dining
The high seas provide highly-erotic delights...
They met on a Club Dead cruise.

They weren't no Jerry Garcia fans. Club Dead cruises are not for Dead Heads,
but for those who fascinate about Dead Dickheads, and other necro-genital
fetishes.

The cruises always head into international waters, Earth's fascinating last
frontier with virtually no rules. No rules against no balls, no rules against
no dick, no rules against gloriously accepting the temptation of the
castration fascination.


Club Dead is a no-clothes no-time club -- so there actually is one strict
rule. No nude, no go.

You should have seen all those tanned bodies on deck in the care-free
Carribean sunshine. All those cocks and all those balls. Not!

The ball-less have a ball strutting their stuff, or at least showing off where
their stuff used to be. The penis-less are the Kings of Strut (or Queens,
depending on their preference of the moment).

But, the club is not restricted to those who lost their balls and/or cock. It
is also open to those who never had no cock or no balls (also known as women),
if they are supportive of those with, or in the process of, male genital
reduction.

Furthermore, the men in the club do not have to have lost anything. Yet.

It is a sure bet that if anyone has anything left to lose, they will leave it
behind when they go home. The attraction of the castration fascination is just
too damn fun. Even when the seas are choppy, there is usually a whole lot of
choppin' goin' on.

Especially about an hour before the dinner bell rings.

No one ever has to ask, because the bell does toll for parts of he. His parts
are on the menu.

The sun may rise tomorrow, but the sun is becoming more of an be an exclusive
riser. With many new eunuchs being made for meals, there will be no more "also
rising" for them.

Such wonderful meals! -- as most of us already know, having had the pleasure
of eating all or part of our own cock/ball combos at one time or another. More
than anyone, we can appreciate the gastric delights at the Club Dead dinners.



She was hungry. He was hungry.

They were both mesmerized by the fresh catch of crabby lobsters snapping
around in the elegant dining room's acquarium. We've all seen lobster
acquariums at restaurants, but I would guess that most have not seen a lobster
tank quite like this one.

Like ships, the lobster tank has portals. Portals for men with parts left to
shove those parts right in for Crustacean CBT.

You would have thought those snappy lobsters, instead of the mostly-homo
homosapiens, were the hungry ones. A bare hard cock barely had time to get
hard when a lobster, or two or three or thirty, would clamp a claw around it.


Their eyes met through the riled-up waters. They were both bent down to get a
better look at a 12-inch cock with a dozen lobster claws clenched damn-hard on
the hard-on. They were both equally excited by the scene.

But for somewhat different reasons.

The visual stimulation was similarly erotic for both he and she. But he also
enjoyed a tactile stimulation, because it was his 12-inch cock being tightly-
squeezed by the 12 red organic vicegrips.

She moved around the tank to talk. Small talk about his big cock.

"Nice cock ya got there," she said to break the ice. "I wish those lobsters
would break his balls," she thought to herself at the same time.

"Thank you. Too bad you don't have a cock, because this feeling is fucking
unbelievable."

"It does look like fun. And it is so erotic and mouth-watering, it makes my
nipples extra long and extra hard."

Just as she spoke the words, she thought, "Why not? Let's see if a lobster can
take a nip or two at my nipples." She pressed her large tits into the two
portals next to her new 12-inch friend, who she was finding as attractive as
the lobsters obviously did.

He looked good enough to eat, she thought. And she hoped.

"Ready to dine?" he asked.

"Just let me have about twenty more lobsters squeeze the shit out my nipples,
and I'll be ready to eat something, that's for sure."


Although dark, they decided an on-deck torch-lit picnic would provide the
perfect ambiance for their first date. They brought a bunch of lobsters with
them.

She laughed to herself as they spread the blanket and arranged things for
dinner. What amused her was the irony that she hated "clingy" men, and here
she was with 12 lobsters still clinging to her new man's 12-inch member. But
fair is fair she thought, because she herself still had two lobsters gripping
each nipple.

The scene was funny, but also damn erotic. Try walking around acting casual
with several lobsters clamping down on something sensitive. It puts one in a
pretty damn good mood.

The portable pot of boiling water should have had the lobsters snapping out of
their damn good mood, because they were about to be part of the damn good
meal. Just for fun, he dipped his 12 clinging lobsters into the cauldron of
death while they were still clinging to his 12 inches. She did likewise with
the four on her two tits.

Although their death was nearly in an instant, in that instant the lobsters
gave the best squeeze of their lives. Another thing you really have to try
sometime, such an ultimate turn-on.

As the lobsters released their grip and released their last breath, she turned
to him. "I'd say we boil your cock right now too," she mused, "but we'll wait
until the claw marks heal a bit. How about boiling your beautiful balls?"

"That's why I am here. That's why they are here," was his eager response.

She noticed that he had begun the preparation for his ball departation many
hours ago. How fortunate. The elastrator band had almost finished its job just
in time for the main course.

Puffed up like a puff fish, his balls were ready, ready, ready. Steady,
steady, steady as he leaned over the lobster pot and eased his scrotum through
the steam portal. Perfect fit. Both his balls and the steam were trapped with
the simmering lobsters.

She lovingly sucked his clawed-up cock as his balls cooked up. "Mind if I
start with an apetizer?" she teased.

No man refuses a blow job (but then again, some men on welfare refuse all
jobs).

The last load of his life popped into her mouth just as the pop-off valve
released on the lobster pot. Steam whistled out to signal their meal was
ready. She tried to whistle her approval, but it is hard to whistle with a
mouth full of boiling semen. Find a willing sea man and try it some time.

They ate his balls first. He just laid back and let her carve right into them.
Oh, the delicious aroma as she sliced the scrotum and the puff of tasty testes
filled the air.

When you have a romantic dinner like this, you can appreciate the divine
reason why men have two balls. He ate, she ate. The division was equal, and
the taste was especially divine.

They mixed a little lobster meat in with the large man meat, both agreeing in
sensuous silence that this was the best meal they ever had. She deciding in
continued silence that she would provide dessert.

With the lobster pot still steaming, she pulled her large breasts together and
inserted both nipples into the steam vent. Another perfect fit. Now there was
a woman who can cook, and be cooked.

Tits steamed to perfection, he produced his handy elastrator and placed the
proper size bands around her boob tips.

Her turn to lay back.

Sip, sip on the champagne. Then snip, snip and her two tips top off the pefect
meal.



Classy Bitch is a cocky (but happily cock-less) cook herself.  

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