A Story (6)

Heather J. Kintyre

I knew the moment I laid eyes on the painter that I wouldn't be able to sleep until I had him for myself. I longed for the union that comes from the perfect love. I wanted more than ever to feel him within me. Having his warm body next to mine was a most pleasurable thought.

I could just taste the sweet meat and the ambrosia of the blood. The thought of that warm, juicy sweet meat gliding so effortlessly down my throat as the blood bathed my face. Oh the ecstasy of it. Just the thought was a major turn on.

I took the stun gun from the drawer. As a second thought, I took the portable cart on wheels I had designed. It was made out of a soft leather, and had rollers on all four corners. I could slip it in my vest pocket and it'd look like a fat wallet. Then I went out to rejoin the painter.

We talked for a couple hours. He painted me into the landscape he was painting before him. Then the sun went down. Just as he was bending over to put some paint brushes in his satchel, I couldn't stand it. Oh what a fine and beautiful sight.

My blood was getting hot in my veins. I could feel the heat of it, as I became aroused. I couldn't help myself, as I lost all control. I took my gun out and fired.

No one saw the silent gun, so no one was any wiser to my stunning the painter.

I took the handy cart out of my pocket and stretched him out on it. There were a few passerby's who seemed to be 'concerned' but I told them he just passed out from too much drinking, and I was going to take him home where he could rest, and everything was okay.

I was so thrilled I was having trouble maintaining a calm composure. I couldn't wait to taste that fine nectar of the Gods, that I know as fine blood. As I could smell the painters blood, I knew he would be a superb specimen. This one I wasn't even going to waste cooking up. No, this one was to remain in the raw.

I was sexually aroused by the forth cumming event. It's the ultimate union and highest compliment to have your body digested and shit out of someone who could appreciate the meat content you have worked so hard to achieve.

Why else should anyone take such good care of their bodies if they aren't looking to have someone come along to eat them? Isn't this world still survival of the fittest? Someone is bound to die, and we've all got to go some day.

Yes, this was a great day for a last day to be alive. When things start looking so good, I begin to think that maybe there's something to be said for a continued life. I spent the next few days eating my lover, fixing many various dishes, so as to better enjoy the love I shared with the painter, becoming as close as we could, or would, ever be. In his death, he extended my life, becoming more a part of myself as our body tissues mixed, even temporarily. It was such a generous gesture on my lovers part to extend my own life at his expense. I couldn't thank him enough, as I indulged in the meat dishes I put him into.

I'd always treasure those moments the painter and I shared so intimately as he was digested through me. It's hard to find a better or more perfect love.