I have harbored castration fantasies ever since my teen years. I can't explain the castration thrill or the desire to be nutted, but it was there from aboout 17 to the very night my wife took my balls in one final ultimate castration espisode, and then planned to cook them up for dinner shortly thereafter.

In reality, I didn't really want to lose my balls, but the fantasy of it and the thrill of castration play, and the risky games we played heightened my arousal. Over time, after convincing my wife that this helped bring me off, she also became so intensely intrigued and fasinated by castration obsessions, that she became the aggressor and initiator fairly often. Only men with castration fantasies and desires can fully appreciate a wife or girlfriend who participates in the activity. She delighted in being able to control and possess my manhood.

Prior to marriage, I had masturbated at the thought of losing my balls once my final drop of sperm spurt from my erect penis. I envisioned being watched and monitored for my climax so that at the exact moment I shoot my wad, someone takes a knife and takes my testicles. In encounters with women prior to marriage, I would imagine that they were there with a knife at the ready eagerly awaiting my final cum and would slice them off once I was done squirting. On a few occasions, I would prime the pump, as it were, by saying such things as, "You should take my testicles once I'm done." None of the gals I was with ever took the hint, and I had to relegate my fantasies to the realm of imagination. I cannot recall one time I've ever had an orgasm where I didn't imagine being castrated the moment I shot my last drop of cum.

But when I got married, my hot little wife enjoyed ball manipulation, stretching, squeezing and stretching every time we had sex. This was a castration-obsessed man's dream come true!

During oral pleasuring, I satisfied my lust for female crotch with my tongue working her sensual clit, slit, and anus over until she climaxed powerfully, squeezing my face into her bottom and nearly suffocating me. While I was tongue-loving her, she would suck my penis and bite my balls with vicious delight. My favorite ball-biting pleasure is to have her suck one nut into her mouth and then pull as hard as she could on the nut until my scrotum stretched several inches away from my crotch. There is an inexplicable thrill in the castration possibility, adn there were times that if it happened, I would have welcomed it.

During such encounters, I have asked her, "What will you do with my nut if it comes off in your mouth?"

She looks at me fiendishly and says, "I will chew it up and swallow it, or I'll rub my clit with it, or massage my anus with it."

Such talk results in my erupting in a sperm-saturated flood every time.

On occasion, when I'm about to cum, she whispers softly, and lovingly to me, "I'm going to castrate you when you're finished squirting." Or she'll say, "Your balls are mine." Or she'll say, "Make it good because it's your last." Or she'll say, "Lick me and swallow my clit because I'm going to bite your balls off."

Needless to say, we both have enjoyed such antics for years. She once asked me, "You always talk about losing your balls but we've never really discussed how we would do it."

So I gave her a number of options for castrating me that we both enjoyed contemplating and toying with. But over time we have become bored with the talk and the play, and it has gotten more serious and involved.

She once circuled a date on the calender and showed me, saying, "On that date, I'm going to castrate you. You're going to become nutless on that date. Enjoy sex now because it will be over for you after that date. I'm going to take your testicles, and I'll be in control of all your future orgasms from that date on."

I was thrilled with that kind of talk. It was so dangerously sensual. As the date approched, and she became more vocal and aggressive, I wondered if I was really going to be castrated by my wife. The day before I was presumably nutted, she shaved my pubic hair off my pubic mound, my thighs and my crotch. She narrated the whole procedure to my arousing delight. It felt dangerously sensual to have that razor so near my gentials, crotch and anus. On the actual calender date, she administered an enema to clean me out. Having my wife push the enema tube into my anus for the purpose for which it was designed added to my humiliation and heighted my sexual arousal. She refused to leave the bathroom as I emptied my rectum. My submission was complete. She had never done this before, so I wondered if this was "it."

Then she mounted me and served up her delicious little womanly crotch in my face. I brought her to a full-throated orgasm with my mouth. I wanted her to feel so totally naked on her clit, slit and anus. She rewarded me with a gush of female love nectar that was tasty as it was intoxicating.

Then as she gyrated on my face prolonging her pleasures, she began to work my penis and nut sack over with her mouth, teeth and tongue. She also lubed a finger and slipped it deep into my anus and massaged my prostate. At the moment I felt I would erupt in orgasmic convulsions and pleasure, I saw her take a large carving knife off the nightstand near our bed. Thinking this was my last cum, I shot what seemed like a half-gallon or more of sperm!

As I spurted drop after drop, stream after stream, squirt after squirt, she raked my penis and balls with the knife. I unloaded more sperm, and even felt as though I would shoot my very balls out the tip of my penis if I kept it up!

Words fail to describe the rush of my last orgasm prior to my balls being cut off. But I was so caught up in the castration thrill and rush, I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to stop it. At that precise moment, she said, "I want you to think you're going to lose your balls, and be afraid that you won't" I shot another gallon of sperm I'm sure.

Once I calmed down though, she put the knife back and smiled at me impishly. "You really thought you were going to lose your balls, didn't you?"

"Yes, and it was fantastic," I said lustily.

"My sweet lover," she cooed, "in all fairness to you, when I actually do cut your balls off, I will give you advance notice like with the calender so that you can anticipate it, expect it, revel in it, and enjoy it as it happens."

"My only question is, darling," I said, "Will you give me the opportunity to have one last orgasm before your cut them off?"

"Yes, I will," she said, "unless you want me to take the knife to your balls at the very moment you ejaculate."

My satisfied penis leaped at that thought. To time it such so as to maximize sexual pleasure at the very precise moment of my castration heightened the whole prospect so much the more! I mean, ultimate sexual joy at the very moment my fantasy comes true is the ultimate climax! Perhaps others who share these fantasies can understand this. I won't try to explain it, but others who harbor castration impulses know what I'm talking about. Unless you desire the same sort of thrill, you cannot comprehend what I'm talking about or the pleasure of it.

For another two weeks we made love both in the traditional ways and in oral ways. We also discussed how she would do the deed when the time came for my castration. We both agreed that it had to be by mutual consent, and done in such a way that the afterglow of my last cum lasted me for the rest of my life.

She circuled a date on the calender again. My heart leaped as I asked her about it. "This time it's real,"she said lightheartedly. I suspected that it was another extreme castration game again, and played along with it.

"How are you going to do it this time?" I asked her.

"I'm going to 69 you and you're going to tongue-love me to an orgasm like before. Then as I work your penis, balls and anus over with my tongue and fingers, I'm going to time your sensations so that just before you cum, I'm going to slice your nut sack open, and dangle your balls on the sperm cords just as you shoot your wad. Then I'm going to skewer your testicles while they're still attached, and once you're done spurting sperm, I'll cut them off with a pair of scissors!"

If it was possible to cum in my pants without so much as a touch on my penis, I did so right then and there. Seeing the wet spot of the male cream in my jeans soak my crotch, my wife smiled and noted, "You're going to lose your balls and you won't be able to cum anymore but the idea of being castrated excites you so much you climax without being touched! Maybe we should change the date on the calender!"

I wanted to live out my fantasy and prolong the pleasure and the thrill of castration, but I also didn't want to hasten the date! So we had rip-roaring good sex from that time onward until the date arrived.

She shaved my crotch again and administered an enema. I glanced at the calender to verify that today was the day when she began to do this. Some of the hair had grown back from my previous shave and I looked like a pre-teen boy, but when she was done with the second shave, I looked as bare as a nine-year-old. My penis became aroused even as she filled my rectum with the enema fluid. I empited myself out as before. She told me when she inserted her finger into my anus she wanted only to feel my prostate: nothing else.

When she mounted me I went to work on her crotch with abandon. I sucked, licked and massaged her clit, slit, vagina and lovely little sensual anus. Her taste was sweet and delightful. I combed her pubic hair with my teeth, and even wished women would squirt their love nectar at orgasm just like men did. I wanted to drink her and eat her. I told her, "I may lose my balls tonight but I'll never lose my tongue and it's yours for your crotch anytime you want it!"

As she worked me over, I felt a tight band being placed over my nut sack. My balls were hanging at my crotch exposed, vulnerable, naked and unprotected. The band was something new. It was a strange sensation to have my balls banded. It was so tight that if she didn't cut them off, they would die of strangulation!

She gave masterful head that night. I was so enthralled with her oral skills, I WANTED her to take my balls this time because the sensations, pleasures and feelings were so good, so unique, so extreme, I knew there would never be an occasion sexually in the future that could match this time.

As my body began to pitch, convulse and rock with my final orgasm, I felt the tip and blade of the knife begin to invade my scrotum. With each contact with the knife, I shot more cum. Every time the cold blade penetrated, sliced or cut, I squirted more sperm. As I plunged into the very height of my orgasmic surrender, I felt my wife squeeze my opened nutsack, and discerned the unfamiliar sensation that my testicles were now dangling out of my scrotum. I felt them nudge my butt crack, and felt them swing and slap against my thighs as I squirt, and spurted and splashed.

When I felt as though I was completely dry, my wife said, "Now is when I skewer your testicles, sweetheart!"

With that, I shot another powerful glob of cum, and felt the tip of the skewer begin to penetrate my right testicle. The pain shot through my ball but it was also highly arousing and sensual. As the pain permeated my groin area, she announced, "Now for the second and last ball."

I squirt again. My anus tightened. My thighs contracted. My penis leaped.

Then as the pain began to overcome me, and it sank in that this really was "it," she got off my chest, her crotch dripping with female love nectar and saliva, and held up my skewered balls for me to see. My penis, very reluctant to give up enjoying manhood, shot out another few droplets of sperm, which then pooled up on my belly, filling my belly button.

Staring at my skewered nuts gave me such a rush, I entertained the desire to leave them that way for another hour or two just so I could get off one more time. But she thought better of that idea, stating some potential medical problems, and right before my very eyes, took a pair of scissors and cut the nuts off, one and then the other. I had one last squirt, but this time it was clear, not milky.

She laid my severed testicles on a tray on the nightstand and tended to my wounds. I confessed to her that I didn't really think I could eat my own balls for dinner that night, telling her I was faint and about to pass out. She nodded understandably.

When I awoke hours later, I immediately reached for my crotch to see if it was a dream. It wasn't. I was a eunuch and I had obsessed about losing my balls so much, my loving wife decided to give me what I had wanted for all these years. I could not blame her. She was taking her ques from me after all. So I resigned myself to living out my days as a nutless eunuch. I had desired this and so had she. But oh the powerful memories I would have from now on!

As I pondered these things, my wife came in with some food and fluids to drink. She was naked and hot as ever. She looked at my limp penis, smiled, and announced that she could "wake the dead" with some loving tongue action whenever I wanted to relive the days of my manhood. As she busyed herself about the room feeding me and taking care of me, checking the bandages and so on, I looked past her and saw a new date circled on the calender.

"I don't have any more balls to give you," I said. "What's that date for?"

She smiled that delightful little smile I love so much, and told me playfully, "I put your skewered testicles in the freezer for later. That's the date you fire up the BBQ and we have Nut*K*Bobs."