parminder 07

A kiss, delicately pressed on your belly, wakes you up.

What time is it? Who cares. It’s dark outside, still. A gorgeous Kashmir blanket still swaddles your legs and flank, but Parminder has pulled it aside to reveal your tummy. In the moonlight it is the brightest thing in the room next to her eyes.

“You’re so thin,” she says. And you are. Though many courses of food and several pints of living blood were packed away, and still show their mark as a soft rise in your gurgling abdomen, the rest of you shows modest toned muscle and very little padding. “You’re not really going to eat me, are you?”

Still muggy with sleep, you reach out and cup her chin to stroke her cheek with your thumb. “I am. When this night is over. You’re going to feed yourself to me.”

To her credit she doesn’t insist it’s impossible. She has seen something impossible and she’s a clever woman. Instead she presses her lips once again to your stomach and looks up. “But you’re so thin. What happened to the others you’ve eaten?”

“Who says I’ve eaten others?” you say with a smirk. “Maybe you’re my first, too.”

That makes her pause, but then she apparently decides you’re taking the piss. “Answer my question, Raven. Where are they, then?”

You yawn, raising arms above you and arching hard enough your back clicks. Parm doesn’t know where to look: your belly, your tits, the graceful curve of your whole body, or the pretty and lethal fangs that guard the shadow-black pit of your mouth.

“I could tell you that I burn off my prey. That you add to my body and I get to feel gorgeous and cuddly and fat for a week or so, but then my metabolism processes you and I’m my beautiful thin self again. Hmm?”

You feel the way she shivers, despite being wrapped up in the Kashmiri blanket right alongside you. Her eyes scan the tight lines of your flanks, count the shadows of ribs just visible.

“But I won’t. As far as you’re concerned they never existed. You’ll be the first and only person inside me.”

“If you wouldn’t mind…” It’s hard to tell in the silver moonlight augmented by silver streetlights, but she might be blushing again. “Could I look for them?”

She laughs, soft and warm, when you look puzzled. Rather than explain she just goes ahead.

“Hmm… No fat here.” Your hips are confirmed by questing hands to be angular sculptures of symmetric bone. She wobbles your guts with a hand. “This is me an Kleftiko. So far, no survivors.”

“You won’t find any of those,” you mutter, but lie back and let her explore your body.

“Nothing here,” she says as she traces up your sides. “Just a little muscle. Barely any pudge at all.”

“That tickles.”

“These might be from prey.” A kiss bestowed to the curve of both breasts makes you inhale. “But I think if you ate me I’d give you G cups.”

“You’ll go to my bum and my belly,” you murmur, distracted since she hasn’t yet stopped kissing your breasts and playing with your nipples with her lips. “Neither of us gets to choose. You’ll just destroy my thigh gap.”

“Let’s see. Turn over.” Bright-eyed with excitement and mischief, she kneels up to give you space to spin. You take your time, aware at how your curves catch and play with the light.

“None here,” she proclaims, stroking your shoulder blades. “Elegant and kind of…” Words fail her. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”

“Mmmhm.” You wiggle your bottom, bare skin rubbing the arch of her straddling thighs. “Aren’t you pleased you get to be part of this?”

She ignores your tease, tracing her hands down your spine. Her touch is so light she causes goosebumps. “And down your whole back. You’re thin like a model. Nowhere for any of this ‘previous prey’ to hide.”

Silent, you wait for her to shuffle down and discover her future resting place. No witty little observation comes forth. Just hands moulding and cupping your compact but gorgeous backside.

You stretch forward like a cat and raise your bottom in the air. Parminder actually gasps, just like she did when you sank your fingers into her pussy.

“Any sign?” you prompt, looking at her over your shoulder. A wiggle further scrambles her brain.

“No… Nothing here but you.”

You sway your backside like a magician’s watch. There’s a very real possibility you are hypnotising her.

“It’s just so… Round and perfect. And it. It’s so smooth.”

“Smooth?”

“And your thighs are so soft. … Is this really what you’ll make me part of?”

Your butt pauses in its seductive dance. “No. Not really. I’ll digest you and absorb the goodness from you. But you’re just raw materials. My extra fat and muscle is all me, not you.”

She stares at the geometrically perfect curves of your backside. “So where do I go? Oh…”

You give her an apologetic little wiggle. “I’m afraid so.”

“You’re just going to shit me out?” Maybe she notices a change close to the place she’s looking. “Don’t get turned on by that!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just… It feels really good to, y’know. Finish.”

“Raven!”

“What? You won’t be around to feel it, but I will. Don’t you want to make me feel good?”

She goes quiet. You spread your knees further apart. The way she continues to stare into your scandalously-exposed crack is lighting a fire between your legs.

“See how wet it makes me? The idea of squeezing you out? I bet you’ll feel—”

“I’m a person!” Her voice breaks when she protests. Something is being brought home to her.

You speak gently but firmly. “And my food. Is it so bad? Look at me. Closer. I know you can’t take your eyes off me. Why—”

Some reserve inside her breaks. A hidden obsession, uncovered when she explored your body and fanned by the certain knowledge that she will die, catches and bursts into flame. Your body is too perfect for her. She drives face-first into the shadowed cleft of your bum and scours your arsehole with her tongue.

“Oh!” The sensation shocks you: soft, yielding pressure builds at your pucker, sinfully seeking a way inside. You relax, and let it.

In the middle of the night, visible only to the moon, you together commit an act of irrational lust. She is driven mad by the taste and sensation of you, her devourer. You are driven mad by the knowledge that you are so powerfully desired that she wishes to experience every part of you. Both of you know that this is not the last time she will fill the gulf behind your anus.

It’s hard to keep track of what happens. Do you taunt her? Tell her how much discomfort she will cause when her melted-down, desiccated remains pack out the stinking avenues of your colon? How much pleasure you will get as every minced-up spec of her body passes through the ring she is currently French-kissing? It’s certain at one point she starts fingering you furiously, and only issues of balance prevent her from doing it to herself.

At some point she switches to fingers in your anus, and then her whole small fist. You call out in lust and greed. Somehow, somehow, you restrain yourself from sucking in more and more and more until she is all gone. This is the third time tonight you could simply eat her, and it’s a close thing since she wants it too—madly pushing to go deeper.

When you have both cum—because she wanks herself off with a hand dripping with your juices—she runs to the bathroom and cleans up but practically collapses beside you. Driven by tenderness, you both cuddle. Driven by exhaustion, your eyes close and the night falls back around you.

But the first traces of dawn light the sky at its easternmost expanse. The triple-glazing-distant rattle of cars becomes more frequent. And in your sleep, your stomach rumbles violently, causing her to stir and pull closer.

It will soon be time for breakfast.