more burgers
You don’t always eat another streamer when you go live. Maybe every ten sessions? You prefer your own seat, and I think you might like having me around you to pamper you. Maybe I’ll try to contrive a way of getting a streamer to your place so you can devour them in the comfort of your own home. It would make a change to tracking them down online: difficult work I’m not really trained for.
The sweet little thing from the other evening is long gone, but left you with a lingering desire to pay Spiro. She actually left you a little sore, too. Perhaps a fragment of bone made it too far through your system and nicked you on the way out. Your VVIP stream, eight gentlemen and two women, reacted in chat many ways to your flinch as you sat on your throne. Anger, amusement, concern, … In the end, audio and two camera angles left everyone satisfied, especially you as you inspected your new bank balance while squeezing out the exhausted flesh of the gamer girl. She broke the surface and you broke 10k profit from the whole affair.
The legacy of AliceGG: Fat, shit and money in your account. More than a hundred of her followers now subscribe to you, assimilated into your fan base.
You realise you’re pawing idly at your middle. Seated, your lower belly squidges up. It didn’t feel so prominent before so you imagine it’s her. AliceGG: Got Gurgled. Gave Girth? Generated Gold. Graduated Guts. She feels good beneath your questing fingers.
I enter the room, quietly closing the door behind me. It’s silly: your camera and mic are off but I’m unobtrusive anyway. The scent of charred beef wafts in with you.
“About time,” you say, without rancour. “I’m starving.”
Next to the keyboard I lay a tray bearing for homemade burgers. My latest obsession: finding the perfect burger for you.
“Chuck and silverside, sous vide till barely cooked, then fried to incineration. Should be juicy but crack when you bite it. Then cheese, Emmenthal, tomato, lettuce, ketchup, all on brioche. Tell me what you think.”
You nod but don’t take your hands off the keyboard and mouse. Instead you hand-turn your face to me and open your jaws expectantly. “Ahhng.”
You don’t see, but I smile tenderly. I took great care over the presentation of your meal; everything’s straight, the lettuce protrudes in an attractive fashion, melted cheese beads teasingly around the burgers, which glisten. These are the burgers from the menu pictures.
Maybe anyone else would resent the fact that you ignored the effort: just opened your mouth and expected to be fed. But in truth the effort was for me. I couldn’t have borne the shame of serving you something without love. And you take that love and open your mouth wide… You satisfy your desires, your needs, and in so doing give me a demonstration of that all-consuming hunger that is basically my religion.
Even if you never ate a living person, I would feel the same.
So I present the first burger to your teeth. You bite down through soft brioche, crisp lettuce, juicy tomato… The bread moulds to your palate before your teeth find meat and bite through. I wasn’t kidding about incineration: your teeth crack through a millimetre of ashen crust top and bottom before meeting in the heart of it and loosing a bite into the deadly cavity of your mouth.
You chew as you finally crack a puzzle. You knew the answer, of course, but felt like pretending you didn’t, on a whim. Fat Spyro breaks open victory chests and you swallow.
“’s good,” you say, then open your mouth again. Joy. I stroke your hair affectionately and hold the burger in place. It has a simple but difficult path to follow before it is safely tucked away inside your tummy.
You huff out a breathy gust of air after the second burger. After the third you adjust your top, loosening fabric that had gathered between your back and the chair. Salt, fat and sweet: the burgers are perfect junk food, encouraging infinite consumption.
After the fourth burger you open your mouth again. I’m captivated by a fleck of meat on your tongue. I know you can be very fastidious about how your present yourself, so it feels intimate that you’d allow me to see your mouth with even that speck.
“I’m afraid that’s all there is, my love,” I say with amused regret. I place my hand on your shoulder and squeeze.
You pout immediately. Spyro does an angry little spin in place, a gesture your followers can’t understand. “Make more for me?”
“There is a pizza in the oven for you, love.”
“Good. That is a nice appetiser for more burgers.” You look away from the monitor to give me a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile and when you see it’s working you press your luck. “And fries? I’d like fries. You could feed them to me one by one. Except mind your fingers because I wouldn’t—”
Suddenly you are being kissed. It looked a little like I wasn’t expecting it to happen either, but I couldn’t stop myself. My lips press against yours and then part as I deepen the kiss. You make a little sound in your throat as you lean in, taking more than you give. Spyro performs his idle animation.
“I want to go down on you while you’re streaming,” I murmur urgently.
You kiss my cheek and place my hands on your belly. Your gut makes pleased little purring, gurgling sounds as I help knead the mushed-up burgers inside. “After pizza. And burgers. And fries. With ice cream. Feed me all of that and then rub my tummy for me and I will sit here and let you eat my pussy.”
It’s too much. I go in for another kiss but you snap your teeth before my lips touch yours. We stare at one another, inches apart, eyes glittering.
A smile curls about your lips. “I know. You are so lucky.”
“The luckiest,” I say, kissing your forehead and then dashing off to the kitchen.
I watch on my phone as you tease the chat with a report of your plans. Jealousy runs like a river. I sing to myself as I shape mince meat. I’m picturing a long evening feeding you, massaging your aching belly, kissing you, tasting you. And then back to your gut, lavishing you with affection as you turn my hard work into… well.
Pizza’s done. I seal burgers into plastic bags and settle them into the sous vide machine. They will take a while, so I slice the pizza and carry it with me on a plate.
I’m going to try to make you cum by only touching and kissing your belly.
I love my life.