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*****
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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