I was in my study, working, when Kyla came home early with a surprise. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon, and I was resting my eyes by gazing out the large, picture windows that surrounded my computer desk when I caught a glimpse of her car purring down our long driveway. I smiled, but went back to work, pretending I hadn't seen her.

My small deception was rewarded when I heard her creeping through the house a few minutes later, and the whisper of my office door being slowly opened. I had headphones on, according to my usual habit, so she didn't know I could hear her. A moment later I felt small fingers covering my eyes, and heard a familiar feminine voice say, "Surprise!"

"Kyla! You're home!" I jumped up and hugged her. She planted a big, wet kiss right on my lips. I felt a stirring in my crotch as her large, cushy breasts pressed against my chest.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, running my fingers through the small hairs at the nape of her neck. She pulled out two tickets and held them up before my eyes.

"What are these?" I asked, taking them.

"Tickets to France. To see a very special woman." She replied, smiling like she knew something I didn't. I couldn't hide my confusion.

"I would say it's for your birthday, or Christmas," she continued, "but neither's coming up. So it's just because I love you." With that, she planted another, softer kiss on my lips. Though more curious than ever, I couldn't ignore that kiss. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her back. We ran our hands over each other's backs and made out. I was definitely getting hard now. It brushed against her thigh and she giggled.

"So... who's this woman? Why France?" I asked when our lips came apart.

"Well, I've been thinking, and I think it's time for me to give you what you want." She reached down and unzipped my slacks, then worked my warm, semi-stiff cock out of my underclothes. She angled it upward, so that the length of it lay pressed between us against her belly. That already made me harder.

She slowly stroked the backside of it as she explained, "So I did some research online, and asked some friends, and found a woman in France, a professional, who specializes in giving men their ultimate, and final, sexual experience."

With that last statement I began to suspect--hope?--her meaning. My cock lurched up, flaring to it's full dimensions as if trying to penetrate her belly. She giggled and stroked along the rim of the engorged head.

"You've been telling me for years about your fantasy, to lose this, to give it up... to have it cut off here," she touched just beneath the head of my cock, "or here," she pinched it about halfway down. I groaned. "Or here, all the way at the base." She slid her fingers down to sharply grasp the rock-hard base of my shaft. I sighed and grabbed her close, pressing my sensitive flesh against her. I felt like I could cum right then.

She whispered, just a breath from my face, "I'll make your fantasy come true, if you want it... I've made arrangements for your penectomy."

I felt myself swoon. She knew me well; she knew how that word would affect me.

"I don't know..." I said, "Do you think we're ready for this?" My cock sure thinks so, I thought to myself, aware of my engorged member. She shook her head and said, "There's no commitment. I paid for the time in her chateau. What we do with that time, and how far we go, are entirely up to us."

"Oh my god. You're the best." I kissed her. She grinned, gave my cock a squeeze, and said, "You may not have this much longer. What are you going to do with it while you do?"

Controlling my face, despite her skilled fingers on my most sensitive flesh, I looked back over my shoulder at the computer and said, "Well... I do still have a lot of work to do..."

She gave me a play glare and pulled me toward the bedroom, "You brat. Come here and fuck me."

I couldn't wait for the bedroom. I grabbed her and picked her up by the buttocks, grinding her crotch into my rod. I swung her around and pinned her against the wall, where I buried my face in her neck as my fingers plucked at the buttons of her shirt. She moaned, rolling her head back while I kissed her face and neck. "Yes... Matt... yes, do me now, fuck me while you still can."

Her words inflamed me, and I ripped off her pants as quickly as I could and threw her to the floor. I tested her state by touching her pussy. She was sopping wet already. It was with a brief, guilty moment of relief that I realized I could skip any further foreplay. I parted her legs and moved between them.

She looked up at me, looking into my eyes while I gently but firmly pressed my stiff rod into her yielding flesh. Her cunt still gripped me tightly, even after five years of marriage. My eyes rolled back as I started fucking her, my balls slapping against her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed sometimes, but mostly she watched me, aroused but thoughtful.

When I paused to shift my arms, she said softly, "So you do really want it."

"What?" I asked, wiping sweat off my face. I had never come easily or quickly, a fact which Kyla had often expressed great appreciation for.

"It turns you on so much." She stroked my arm. I was fading inside her. I lowered my eyes and said, "I don't know... maybe. Is that bad?"

"No!" she cried out, and hugged me. "I love you, and if this is what you want, I want it to. I want that for you, I want to make your dream come true."

"Even if it means we will never be able to have sex again?" my cock pulsed up again inside her when I said that, like a brave soldier preparing for its fate.

She nodded sharply, sending a delightful jiggle through her torso. She giggled and said, "As long as I still have my clit, I can get off, and I'm happy. You give wonderful head." She whispered the last conspiratorially into my ear, giggling more.

"If you like..." I started to drift downward, gently pulling out of her, but she grabbed my buttocks and said, "No- stay! There'll be plenty of time later. I want you inside me now."

I pressed my hips against hers, digging in deeper (to both our pleasure), and asked, "What's she like? This french woman?"

"The story is, she's a man eater. She's broken the hearts of dozens of men, and taken the cocks of even more. She specializes in penectomy. There are plenty of cutters out there who do castrations, male and female, but her joy lies in taking men's penises.

"But apparently only to men who truly desire it. She says her life's passion is giving men the ultimate sexual experience."

She lightly touched my ear and whispered again, "Ultimate..."

I groand, thrusting subtly. I admired the way each of my tiny thrusts made her super-soft breasts wiggle. She sensed my arousal mounting, and when she continued speaking, it was in a throatier voice.

"She'll do you if you convince her. She'll take your beautiful, long, hard cock, and she'll cut it off. Even while it's throbbing with pleasure, it'll be doomed, and if you say the word, then it'll be gone. You'll go there with a penis, but if you want, you'll leave there without it."

I was thrusting harder, driven on by the twin urges of instinct and fetish. She saw me excited and started thrusting back, fucking me fucking her. But she didn't stop speaking. "Or maybe she'll have me do it. Would you like that? I could hold it, and bring you right to the edge, and at the last, possible minute, make the final cut."

She was getting excited now too, close to the edge. She grabbed my buttucks and pulled each thrust harder into me. The pleasure was indescribable. Every thrust was bringing me closer, and her words filled me with a tense eroticism. "Do you want me to do that?" she cried out, "This could be one of the last times you fuck me! I'm gonna do it! I'll cut it off! The whole thing, I'm not gonna leave you with even a stump. It'll be all mine and I'm gonna... Oh yes! Come for me! YES!"

"Guuuueaaaahhh! Cut it off! Make me cum! Fuck! Aaaaagh! Me!" was my answering cry, pumping into her.

With that she let out a strangled moan and came hard, her pussy clinging hard to me like a hungry sea creature. I buried my threatened flesh deep inside her, as far as it would go, and let it go.

Even as I gasped in orgasm, a tiny thought somewhere in the isolated back part of my mind was really glad we didn't have neighbors too close, because we shouted those words goddam loud. On the other hand, maybe it didn't matter--if I actually did it, would I really be able to keep it a secret?

With that thought, I lost conscious awareness, and sank into my orgasm, pumping the last of my jism into her. Never again...

She must have had the same thought, because as I pulled out, near collapsing, she said, "I hope you enjoyed that, because your days are numbered." She pinched my draining cock with a weak but wicked grin.

I rolled over to my back, and sprawled on the living room floor, my bare, wet cock laying exposed. I hadn't even bothered to undress except to pull it out. I could feel sweat sticky against my undershirt.

She rolled over, nearly naked by contrast, and curled up onto my shoulder.

"France, is it?" I murmered. She nodded, smiling.