The Wife's Final Journey

The knife slowly slid across the apple, separating the red peel from the yellow flesh. The detached
peel trailed in a long spiral beneath the apple before finally succumbing to gravity and falling into the trash can.
"Come on, open your mouth, ah..."
I cut off a slice of apple and held it to my wife's lips.
She obediently opened her mouth and ate the flesh. It
wasn't a big apple, but it took a full ten minutes to feed her—too slow, wasn't it? But if I could, I wish
time could always flow by so slowly and peacefully, because my wife's time was running out.
"Want another one?"
"No, thank you."

I put down the fruit knife, somewhat disappointed. Peeling apples was one of my little skills, and my wife always
loved watching me peel them, like an actor reluctant to leave the stage after a performance. I felt a little dejected.
"I want to be eaten by you,"
my wife, who had been gazing out the window for a long time, suddenly blurted out. ?
"Didn't I already eat you?"
I wasn't referring to anything sexual; I meant, I wanted to be devoured by her.
I was a little troubled.
"Are you tired?"
"What's tiring about lying in bed all day?"
My wife gave a bitter smile that broke my heart. "But you, you have to work and take care of me. Can your body
handle it?"
"I'm fine, as long as you recover..."
"Liar."
My wife interrupted me.
"I probably only have six months left, right?"
Seeing my surprised look, my wife sighed.
"I know my own body. I definitely won't get better. Rather than spending a lot of money on medical treatment and
dying in pain, I'd rather end it while I'm still beautiful, leaving you with the best version of myself."
"You'll definitely get better."
"No, I definitely won't get better."
My wife's answer was resolute. "So, I want to be eaten by you, to become a part of you after I die
and live with you."
The look on my wife's face when she discussed how to cook her was one I hadn't seen since she fell ill.
Looking at her radiant face, I was somewhat convinced.
"I've lost a lot of weight since I got sick, so these ribs are perfect for pan-frying to medium-rare. With a sauce made from creamy
mushrooms and red wine, sprinkled with black pepper, they'll be delicious."
"And my feet! You pervert, you always want to eat them during sex, now you
can have your wish."
...
My wife's tone was as if she were discussing our wedding anniversary dinner. Three
days
later, I checked my wife out of the hospital.

"Honestly, the house is such a mess."
As soon as we got home, my wife started complaining while tidying up.
"I haven't had much time to clean lately, sorry. You need to take care of yourself after being discharged, I'll do the cleaning."
"No way, you'll definitely mess it up if you're careless."
My wife scolded me, hands on her hips.
I felt both sorry for her and anxious.
"Besides, I don't have many more chances to clean this house, do I?"
My wife sighed, "After I'm gone, you have to be careful about hygiene, or you'll easily get sick."
...
Saying farewell with such doting affection was so cunning, how could I possibly hold back
my tears ?
"You go ahead with your work, I'm going to the restroom."
I held my wife's body; although she had lost some weight, she was still warm and soft.
"Even though your waist has gotten thinner since you got sick, your breasts and buttocks have gotten smaller too. You don't mind, do you?"
"No, you're still so beautiful."
"Really?" My
wife rested her head on my chest, her loose hair shimmering like silk, cool and smooth,
the scent of shampoo filling the air.
"It's been so long since we've done it. Do you want me too?"
"Mmm."
I kissed my wife, receiving an unprecedentedly intense response. Her tongue desperately forced its way into my mouth,
craving mine frantically. Not a breath of air could escape between our tightly pressed lips; only thick
saliva dripped from the corners of our mouths.
"Huff, ha, ha..."
My wife only released me when her face was flushed red. A silver thread hung from the corner of her mouth, stretched by
gravity , and dripped onto my chest.
"I really want to be with you forever. When we're old and can't move anymore, I'll change my clothes, lie in bed,
and say, 'Let's die,' and we'll die together... But this wish is now gone."
My wife buried her head in my chest, her warm tears spreading across it.
"Okay, let's not talk about this anymore. In the very end, we must leave behind the most beautiful memories." My
wife sniffled and looked up. "Yes, you're right."

I wiped away her tears and pinched her nose.
"Smile, this doesn't look like you at all."
My wife gave me a red and swollen smile.
"You smile too, otherwise I can't leave you in peace."
My smile was probably just as unattractive as my wife's, but even this heartbreaking smile
would soon be gone. I etched my wife's smile deeply into my mind, even if I would
regret it .
On our final night, both my wife and I went all out. She straddled me,
stretching her arms forward. I grasped her hands, and our four arms swayed in rhythm with her movements and my hips. The friction between
my penis and her vagina produced a
sizzling sound. My wife's white breasts swayed up and down, her full buttocks slapping against my hips with a slapping
sound . Her pink vagina gripped my penis tightly.
"Mmm...ah...so good...ah..."
Although it was a little dry, it immediately became wet after a little movement. No wonder it's my wife's treasure
.
My wife's full labia pressed against my lower abdomen, and I thrust my hips with all my might, wishing I could penetrate her completely.
"So good...faster...faster...I...want..."
I obeyed, and intense pleasure washed over me with each thrust, from the burning heat of penetration to the waves of pleasure.
The friction and the tingling, weightless sensation when it was pulled out sent my brain
reeling . Finally
, I filled my wife's vagina with my semen. We embraced for a long time; she lay beside me like a cat, her half-closed eyes and
delicate, petal-like lips exuding allure.
"It's so good to have met you."
"Me too."
"It's time to start preparing."
"Okay, let's begin."
I filled the syringe with glycerin and inserted it into my wife's anus.
"Mmm…"
she groaned softly in pain.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
My wife's lower abdomen slowly swelled, making her look like a pregnant woman.
"It's like being pregnant."
My wife stroked her belly, her face glowing with maternal warmth.

"I've always wanted to have a child for you, but it seems I won't have the chance."
I pulled out the anal plug, and yellow enema fluid gushed from my wife's anus. Her anus, as if yearning
, remained open for a long time, revealing the delicate pink inner walls.
I extended my finger and inserted it into the open opening.
"Wow! No, it's so dirty there..."
My wife's anus began to contract due to the internal stimulation, the tight sphincter gripping my finger, sending
shivers through her body.
My finger circled inside her anus, drawing out a little hot intestinal fluid.
"I want to experience every corner of your body before you die."
The fine downy hairs on my wife's pink ears stood on end because of my whisper, making them look even more adorable
and delicate.
"Mmm..."
My wife's unexplored anus was much tighter and hotter than her vagina, and her body's awkward reaction
reminded me of our first time together. My movements were as gentle as our first time, slowly thrusting in and out, only increasing the speed
after my wife's bristling back relaxed . "Mmm...it feels like I've lost control of my bowels, so shameful yet so strange..." My wife, sprawled on all fours, moaned like a female dog. I held her beautiful waist and thrust in and out with all my might. Her powerful anus greedily sucked at my penis like a sperm extractor, her rapid breathing urging me to speed up. My penis became scalding hot from the friction, the pleasure building with the temperature until it finally reached its limit . A stream of heat flowed from my wife's vulva; she had lost control of her bowels. "Did you have to kill her alive? Couldn't you have taken sleeping pills and made her unconscious before killing her?" I frowned. "In my final moments, I want to see you." "Alright." I picked up the dagger and held it against her slender neck. Perhaps because the neck is the thinnest part of the torso, as I stroked my wife's white, long neck, I clearly felt the life force and beauty within it. But I was ending it all with my own hands. "Are you nervous?" My wife swallowed and nodded. "A little." "I'll try to be quick." "Okay." The blade sliced across my wife's throat, and a large amount of warm, viscous blood gushed out. My wife's limbs trembled uncontrollably, her face flushed with a bewitching red. I held her body, licking away the blood from the corner of her mouth. Although the temperature was fading, her lips still had the familiar warmth. Her saliva was mixed with the sweet, metallic taste of blood, and her limp tongue was at my mercy. Finally, her trembling stopped. I closed her eyes. The steak sizzled in the frying pan. I turned down the heat and flipped it over. "Honey, get me some olive oil..." I suddenly stopped because I remembered that she had already cooked the steak in the pan. I took out the chilled wine and stared at the head in the refrigerator for a moment. "Thank you, honey." A wonderful candlelight dinner, of course, it would be even better if it were just the two of us. "Aren't you going to eat?" The steak in front of my wife remained untouched, and her head did not answer. I sighed. "Then I'll eat it for you." A week later, my wife's head was starting to smell. I remembered her words. "Don't put my head in formalin. I don't want to become a bloated specimen. Boil my head, remove the bones and flesh, and make a pure white skull. If you love me enough, you'll remember my face when you look at it." It seemed the time had come. I kissed my wife's lips one last time; they were icy cold. I slightly disobeyed her, turning her eyes into amber. Although the pupils were dilated and the lenses were cloudy, the eyes sealed in amber were still captivating. After boiling my wife's head in caustic soda, I carefully removed the flesh, which had turned a dark brown color. During this process, a few drops of caustic soda water dripped into my gloves, and the stinging sensation in my palms reminded me of the feeling of my wife biting me during sex. Was she thinking I was being too rough? I smiled bitterly. After all, I didn't want your bones to become soft from the stew. If the heat wasn't high enough, the flesh would be difficult to remove. Just bear with it a little longer . Night deepened, and I carefully wiped my wife's skull with a piece of shavings. "Why is your body so cold?" I murmured, stroking the smooth, icy bones. I held the skull up to my face, and two dark eye sockets met my gaze. The muscles, skin, features recreated in my imagination, and in the warm, dim light of the bedside lamp, my wife smiled at me once more. I gently gave her a goodnight kiss. "Goodnight." Holding my wife's head, I lay down on the bed and drifted off to sleep. ******************************** 【The End】

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