Why not both at the same time?

He began to keep a steady pace with Dmitri the dick, already feeling his high stiffening his movements. It was now or never, he thought as he moved the drumstick in front of his mouth. BlackStar opened his mouth slowly, but then it formed into an "O" when his right hand betrayed him, brushing against a particularly sensitive part on the underside of the head. A gasp escaped from his, and he took a massive inhale, sucking in the fumes of the chicken instead.

"Ugg, this is fowl," he whispered, and then he bit down on the chicken, breaking its skin as the juices ran down his arm, dripping down his elbow and landing on his thigh.

It was like a forbidden river filled of candle wax and lava as the still warm meat slipped down his throat. BlackStar turned the bone vertically, hesitating before he pushed it deeply into his mouth as far as it would go. He choked, pulling out the leg as he coughed out his regrets. But then he tried again, because no man could be fucked by a dead bird. This time, he dug his teeth into it, pulling it out and pushing it back in rhythm with his pumps. It scraped against his tongue, burning him as he struggled to keep up in his nether region.

He always told himself that girth and length didn't matter, so long as the tongue scraping dick can fulfill its duty. If he was going to please a person, it may as well cut time in the bathroom and remove bacteria faster than a regular tongue scraper. But on his mission to make his Dmitri into the veiniest dick, he found that he was missing more than just a swol package.

He wanted to make love with his dick, and the chicken deep in this throat gave him more pleasure than he could have ever wanted. BlackStar was determined to complete his daily quota but also to savor the moment. But which one did he want to finish off first? The chicken, or himself?

Dmitri was having none of it. "Who do you love more, BlackStar," it echoed to him. "Your chicken? Or yourself— me, your divine dick." He almost gave in then, his contents threatening to spill out into the air and onto his meal, but he continued on, bucking in his hand.

It hurt. Everything was moving faster. The light of the TV becoming enhanced by his tunnel vision and the shadows of his lust spreading to the corners.

He loved himself yes, and he loved how his hand can effortlessly satisfy Dmitri—

But just as he approached his climax, he saw the abandoned leg still perched in his hands, a small piece of meat left where he had been gripping the leg.

No. He hadn't had this much love and attention from something since the day he found the creamy texture of pumpkin pie. He hadn't loved himself half as much since the day he shoved the mess down his throat, swallowing each morsel whole. BlackStar gripped his chicken leg, turning it around to suck the last of the tendon. With drool running down his mouth, he gasped out "respect me" to Dmitri, showing it just who was in charge around here.

BlackStar growled out how Dmitri didn't know his side of the story with the fried chicken, how much life and joy he was able to salvage from the godless world with the poultry slipping down his throat. Even before BlackStar was twelve and was acquainted with Dmitri, he'd been fisting chicken since he could chew. They were friends first- more than friends first.

Dimitri was enraged. It had never been betrayed by its own master until fried chicken had come into the picture. BlackStar was supposed to love himself more than anything else and yet-

Swearing vengeance upon the main body, Dmitri drew its pleasure from other sources other than the sensitive vein running through it. The damned dick clenched its owner's stomach and his breathing grew more ragged. It was time.

A moan escaped his lips before BlackStar could chew faster until finally, his seed slid over the chicken grease.

Who was the real winner now.