Although she had not wanted to watch the spitting itself, fearing it may be distressing if her son appeared to be in pain, Timothy’s mum now came out of the house, glass of wine in hand, to watch him cook. She even snapped a few photographs on her own phone for posterity as the girls seemed to very much enjoy basting the roasting young boy who turned slowly over the glowing coals.

Although he could not exactly hump the spit the way many roasting girls were known to but Timothy did discover that by rolling his stomach muscles, he could tug on the barbed skewer, tugging on it then relaxing over and over, he could achieve something close to masturbation. The cool baste both soothed and stung his skin as the heat from the coals scalded him as he turned. At first, Timothy kept his eyes open, wanting to enjoy the sight of the gaggle of naked young girls around him for as long as possible but after a while, whether from the heat or constant spinning or a combination of the two, he started to feel dizzy and closed his eyes.

Although he had never been drunk, Timothy had enjoyed a glass or two of champagne at a couple of family weddings and other occasions in the last year or so and he suspected that the sensation he was currently experiencing must be pretty close to how actual drunkenness felt. He was feeling tired, for certain, too tired to keep pleasuring himself as he had been to distract him from the pain of cooking, although the pain seemed to be subsiding on its own, which was a good thing. Even the thick metal pole stretching and tearing his tight ass didn’t really hurt any more. He was aware that it was there, sure, but only in the way he was normally aware of his shoes.

The baste was mingling with his sweat and dripping down onto the coals, sending up little wafts of delicious, sweet aroma as it sizzled. He hoped he would taste good for the girls, that they would consider his meat a treat and remember him, at least until it was their own turn to roast. He wanted to yawn but the pole in his mouth made that impossible. The constant rotation of the spit didn’t feel dizzying or nauseating any more. In fact it felt comforting, as if he was being rocked like a baby in the cradle. With this gentle, soothing sensation, the cosy warmth from the coals beneath him and the delicious smell of roasting Boy filling his nostrils, Timothy took his last, shallow breath and slipped into oblivion.

Seeing that their cute roaster had stopped moving, a lot of the girls lost interest and wandered back to the pool or to resume their other games but Megan and three others stayed, still taking it in turns to baste him, with particular attention paid to his sausage, oyster pouch and rump. As they worked, they giggled together about their own roasting. Megan’s was going to be first, but none of them expected to see Christmas. Mollie joined in the conversation and they asked her questions about different cooking methods and different spit-roasting techniques, giving her the opportunity to share her expertise on the subject and making the young woman wonder again if she should think about “switching sides” while her meat still held broad appeal. She knew that some women cooked well into their forties and she herself had assisted with some such meals but there was no denying that the meat of young girls was the most popular, with women her age coming a close second largely due to the aesthetic appeal of watching them naked on the spit as they cooked. Weddings, for example, often served a fairly broad age-range of girls, boys and women as different family members wanted to volunteer to be part of their loved-ones’ big day. At the most recent one she had worked at, in fact, the mothers of both the bride and groom had been boiled together for a rather delicious stew in the evening while the roasts for the wedding breakfast had been the three bridesmaids, aged twelve, sixteen and twenty two, as well as the cute little flower-girl, of course, who had been beheaded in a white, rose-covered guillotine as part of the ceremony.

While her son cooked on the patio, Timothy’s mum chatted happily with Megan’s parents, grateful for their hospitality and finding them very pleasant company. She was a little surprised but very pleased when they invited her to their next party where their own daughter would be served.


To be continued...