Luca walked to the kitchen with the heavy, reluctant steps of a man marching toward his own execution.
He reached for the cleaver—a substantial piece of metal, heavy enough to chop through thick bones if needed.
He tested its weight in his hand, then ran his thumb gently along the blade.
Sharp. Definitely sharp enough.
He then looked down at himself, at the very obvious evidence of his body's betrayal, and grimaced.
'This is going to hurt like hell.'
But it was necessary.
He moved to a waist-high table and positioned himself at its edge.
With a deep, resigned breath, he pulled his pants down just enough, then gripped his massive, rock-hard erection and slammed it down onto the wooden surface.
The impact was solid—almost like dropping a heavy log.
The table shuddered, and his penis lay there against the wood, thick and throbbing and impossibly hard, like some exotic vegetable waiting to be prepared for dinner.
Luca stared at it for a long moment.
