pole 04

…

The brief vocalisation you make in between a swallow and the blood filling your mouth again is part gasp, part moan. You reach back to slap your own arse, indicating a place higher than where I’m buried.

I get your meaning, but deny your request. “No. Flesh-eaters get fucked in the arse. Vampires get fucked in the pussy. Give me your cunt. And rock forward. Emily can almost watch…”

With somebody’s life streaming down your throat like heavy silk there’s more bliss in accepting the fuck than fighting to have your arse filled up instead. Emily has so much body. It feels like you could chew her blood. A lifetime of training has given her enormous stamina, and now that strength pours alongside the bloody wreck your body has made of Becky.

Athletes are delicious.

Obedient now you’re being fed, you rock your hips forward. Each thrust adds to the growing sense of fullness and each thigh-on-thigh slap makes your whole gut wobble and shake. You’re sloshing, dear Raven, as Emily drains into your tummy.

At the very depth of each stroke, when your cunny is packed tight and the pressure between us is strongest, light reaches Emily’s eyes. She can barely breathe beneath the blanket of fat that grows heavier with each swallow. Spare a thought for her experience: crushed flat beneath your rumbling gut, agonised by a searing pain at the thigh which she can scarcely believe you are drinking from. Helpless to fight or look away from a point of view dominated by your tangled pussy, shining with your lust. Your perfume thickens the air of that little chamber, rooved by a soft lower belly that bears a thin treasure-trail of downy fuzz from belly-button to bush. She bears witness to our lovemaking as her head grows fuzzy with haemodynamic shock.

You tear yourself away from your meal. Though one woman filled you up, drinking seven pints of her colleague makes you want to eat yet more. A hasty kiss heals her enough not to bleed out. You’re still licking the blood from your lips as you slide me out of you and peel your belly off her.

I grunt, alive with desire for you. “Raven, what—”

You’re already moving over the almost-unconscious instructor. Lifting her calves up, feet to your lips. “Eating flesh.”

The message is clear. First, you drive her legs down your throat, causing a sloppy belch to slap its way between her calves. Then, before you can take her hips into your stomach, you feel me place myself being you. This time the teasing is gone. Still slick with your own hot lust I penetrate the last mile of your digestive tract.

Despite that your shitter has cut loose entire human beings you’re still excruciatingly tight. I think you’re clenching down too, grinding me between your anal walls like a toy. You drive me wild. I have no thought about being caught, the danger of your eating in a public place, the lives of these two kind women you will snuff out. I want only you, and for this weakly struggling person to curl up in the half-digested spatter of her erstwhile friend.

She’s far enough gone that when her feet are scrapped by the jagged remnants of the larger bones of her colleague she doesn’t particularly react. The dull, brown eyes stare at you in quiet supplication. You sometimes meet her gaze and sometimes simply close your eyes and lose yourself in the sensations of devouring this woman.