He takes his buck knife and carves a small canyon on my upper thigh. I wouldn't know if I hadn't watched him do it. "Again." He looks me in my eyes as he separates another layer of subcutaneous. It is pink and red and yellow and blue and disgusting. He stands there over me, belt unbuckled, denim undone, sweating, afraid, wonder creeping out for a closer look. His eyes are wild, so far from the fog of mine. Yet, we both want the very same thing. He removes his penis from his clothes and his clothes from his body and he slides it, hard as stone, back and forth through the gushing flesh of my upper thigh. I can't feel a thing but I could cum just from watching. I am so lucky that he loves me. We embrace like kin in the hospital waiting room. I am so lucky that he loves me.