Castrating Hemingway

When they first met, she thought he was her "Robert" from the Bridges of Madison County, but then it became apparent that he was more "Papa" than anyone.

She closed her eyes and visualized her den. The heavy antique furnishings, the furs, antlers and german hunting knives and of course the picture of him atop the Matterhorn. Yes, he was "Papa" and part of her feared him.

He was driven to succeed in a way that seemed like revenge against a ghost. Like Ernest, his ambitions were boundless -- filled with self-pleasure and elusiveness. To be present but never really known. He had a flattering habit of focusing his entire attention on a person - pulling out the deepest hidden secrets without ever asking. He was a leader in a crowd.

As a man, he was cultured, educated, having enjoyed privileges that some only dream of, tasting the finer thins and of course the countless women who knew, as she did, that once you experienced him, no one could come close and there was no leaving him completely.

She switched positions, her knees drawn up to her chest, continuing to recall and frame the similarities. Remembering the women in Hemingway's life she wondered which one she most resembled and how this could play out in their next meeting.

She laughed out loud at the frightened kitten he seduced 3 years ago and how he had brought her along to the sexual erotica she now craved and desired. She was Eliza to his carnal Henry Higgins, blossoming under his tutelage and her realization that that is who she always wanted to be. She bit her lip as she relived the first time he put his balls inside her...the euphoria...Papa...Well,Papa was such a sporting man, displaying gusto in all he did,surely he was not a clinician in bed. He must have been as powerful and insatiable there as he was in daily life.

She drew a bath and added the eucalyptus leaves. A pillow behind her head, she continued to muse on Hemingway....

He was a philanderer, cheating on Hadley, his first wife and lusting after LadyDuff, Marlene Dietrich and Adriana(only18), moving on to wife after wife. He never lost himself completely to any of them, however, none of them moved away in finality. They could not bear it. Any one of them would have given all to possess his soul and all had reason to want him to be THEIR love slave, even if it meant castration.

Ernest needed a woman who shared his lust for life, sportsmanship and an appreciation for his spirited ways. He could be tied to one woman, lusting after another and wishin for something wholly unpredicable to rescue him. None could contain his wild spirit, but she thought, CASTRATION would have squelched his wandering ways.

She reached for the hand-held shower not being able to ruminate any further without release. Pulling the pillow from behind her neck, she moved it to support her bottom. With knees up, she adjusted the pulse of the water running over her clit. The spout was wide enough that some of the water squirted inside her vagina. The heat of the water was purposeful. She used her finger to part the lips and concentrated on the feeling of being in that bullfight with Ernest. The heat on her cheeks and warmth in her groin grew as the shocks and waves of esctasy took over......She laid back, her thighs still trembling and continued to fantasize how she would castrate her lover/Hemingway very soon.

The common thread of the Hemingway women was resiliance. They relinquished themselves an no matter to what their commitment, Ernest could never sustain a long-lived, wholly satisfying relationship with any of them. He was conflicted in his yearning to be looked after and his craving for excitement and freedom.

She walked through the quietness of the nature center, reflecting again on the similarities between her lover and Hemingway. She carelessly threw stones into the shallow stream. Her boots were covered in moss and mud and the jeans clung close to her hips. Finding a large boulder that suited her, she thought of unique Heminwayesque scenario to thrill him and finally castrate him.

She thought of Agnes, the nurse who cared for Ernest while he wasin a Milan hospital. She could be suitable. She never slept with him, but there was a tense passion between them that lasted years. She was the character of Catherine Barkley in the famed "Farewell to Arms."

There was Hadley, the red-head, shy but conversational - and his first wife. There was strength beneath her reserve. She had a nurturing instinct, a kind of sleeping beauty ready to be awakened by an intrepid prince scaling the wall.

She wasn't Pauline, the manipulator, the conniving one who set herself between Hadley and Ernest in the quest to possess him and finally flaunting her relationship with him in Hadley's face.

No, it's none of the others. It would have to be a composite. Satisfied with that, she launched another stone in the stream and began to think of where this would take place.....

She thought of Key West, Sun Valley, and Cuba... She was of limited means and none of those destinations were within her budget. She would recreate the mystery of one of those. Perhaps a cabin like Sun Valley. She hurried home to scope the net for the place that would suit her purposes.

She found the perfect property located in the small town of Jim Thorpe. She booked it, called him and all was well. She ate dinner currounded with medical books she borrowed from the library. Yes, he would be Ernest unemcumbered. She smiled with self-satisfaction.

Three days later, they met at the turnpike and he followed her to the cabin. They made love throughout the night before a blazing fire. He wondered?? "Is this the last time?" "One more time?" She lived to watch him and hear him cum..... It was exciting to her.

The next morning she let him masturbate and they walked through the woods and watched deer lap at the stream. After dinner, she asked him, "Are you ready?" He answered her, "Are YOU?" "Yes, I'll be right back."

She went into the bedroom to change her clothing- and don the "nurse" outfit complete with cape that she had purchased from the Salvation Army. She would be Agnes, Hadley and Pauline. She pulled the white hose onto her legs, a little lace at the top. No bra, no underwear, just the costume.

She called out to him..."Hon, would you please get the blanket from my van and lay it across the table?" "Sure, sure, I'll be right back." His nervous hand reached for the knob to the door. His palms were sweaty. "Damn" He was frustrated, this wasn't the cool and collected man in the mirror. He retrieved the blanket and laid it out on the farm table.

She walked in and he nearly fainted in disbelief. He was hard already. Her breasts were pushing against the size-too-small uniform. The whites were plastered to the outline of her generous hips and the cape was almost too much to bear. He noticed the medical bag in her hand. She pushed him down on the table. "Hi, I'm Agnes and I'll be your evening nurse." His penis was engorged with blood and sticking straight up. His balls were swollen and breathing at a clip.

"My, my, what a big THANG you have," she drawled. "We must do something about that." She looked at him. "What do YOU think?" "Yes, yes, do something," he pleaded. She took him in her mouth, her hands clasping his balls tightly. She was Pauline now, hard and manipulating. Calculating every lick and flick of her tongue. "How does that feel?" she purred..."mmmmmm,good," he moaned. He could not believe the transformance. She was wildly stroking him and licking him and playing with his balls. All at once, she was Hadley. "Papa, I love you, I want to please you, tell me what to do." He pushed her head down on him and the pressure changed. It was a lighter touch, different from moment to moment. He enjoyed the sensations. "You know I love you," said Hadley, "but I can't make you love me the way I want." "You look at Pauline with eyes filled with lust. You flaunt your affair with her in my face." She pulls hard on his balls. "What????" he was confused and disoriented. She could see the pill she had crushed into his wine at dinner was taking hold.

Now Pauline took over. She bit him on the thigh. "How dare you leave me for that slut writer, Martha?" "I fought for you, wrecklessly pursued you and did all to win your favor and YOU want that USELESS twat?" She mounted him on the table. Something was taking over and she couldn't stop it. It was as if she were possessed by all these women who sought their revenge, yet fighting for the man they loved. Who would win? Who would have his love?

She broke away quickly and squatted on his bearded mouth. "I want you to lick me till I cum all over you." He complied working his trade on lips that were so swollen with desire that he could barely contain his own orgasm. She writhed in esctasy. She was harsh and eager, her thighs crushing his face. "God, ohhhhhhhh God." She fell to his chest briefly and then straddled his cock once again. It would seem she were insatiable. His heart was pounding...He knew it would be the last time and wondered how it would end.

She came two more times before she banded him. She put on the gloves and worked his cock while she finished the process. His balls were full, swollen and purple. His disoriented mind was moaning for release - "let it happen" he thought. She wanted him to cum as she cut him..She swabbed his balls with betadine and they shriveled with the cold. "Papa, I'm going to have your balls." "They are mine and you are mine." she exclaimed. She stroked him, knowing he was close to ejaculating. "Are you ready?" she asked. "Ummmmm,yeah, I'm gonna cum....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh." As he started to spurt she began to cut like a child scissoring on the dotted line....He winced in pain and elation at the same time... She began to remove the testicle through the sac, carefully cutting the veins and vas. Both were removed, and she inspected them with love and care. She grabbed the gauze and packed him tightly before she stitched him. She went to his side, holding his balls in her gloved hands.. "These were yours, now they are mine, Papa." "I love you"... He was falling into unconsciousness. "I love you too, dear,"he replied weakly. After an hour she moved him to the bed, towels underneath, she huddled close to him. In a Waterford jar on the nightstand were his balls. Her trophy. Her accomplishment. Her revenge. She could now forgive Ernest and HER lover would remain faithful to her forever.