Silence the Hunger

Shattered glass drips away from the broken mirror, bleeding to the floor. The scream is louder, I hear it. I don’t recognize the man staring back, I see his disdain. Just the like the scream, I know it now, it’s me. Its the child that I was, he’s screaming, he hates me, what I’ve become. I don’t know how to make him happy.

At the bar I sip Jameson’s and try to numb myself, trying to immerse myself in the noise of the room. Hours pass and the whisky is proving unsuccessful. I scan the bar and there she is, she has been there forever, but I have been too self-involved. Several times I’ve caught her trying to make eye contact; she has curly hair, big eyes, the face of an angel. She’s been crying, her makeup has run under her eye, but she is still beautiful, maybe more so. I send her a drink, an invitation, and she accepts. She comes over, reticently, and I have to ask, “Hard night?” “It’s obvious, I know, I should wash my face.” “No, sit. Tell me what makes a beautiful girl cry.” She smirks. “You’ll think it’s stupid.” “I never analyze. I’m really not as deep as you think.” She smiles. “I just don’t want to feel anything right now, my boyfriend left me, I told you it’s stupid, but I loved him. There now you know. Pathetic right?” “I don’t judge.” “You’re so nice” “Actually I’m pure evil”. She giggles. I stand up. “It’s getting late.” She pouts, “You have to go.” “Want to come with me?” “I would, I just…” I look into her eyes, deeply, lightly touching her hand. “I’ll make your pain go away, if you make mine.” She smiles again, and stands up. She’s a little wobbly, so I put my arm around her as we leave, she sinks into me, her hair touches my face, I breathe her in and share her warmth.

In the car she leans back, and I caress her legs, she is soft, and she quietly giggles as I slide up her lug and tickle her womanhood. Moaning and biting her lip as she becomes excited, when she cums her whole body shakes and she collapses into the seat. Opening her eyes, she smiles at me, and cuddles into my lap.

At my house she walks around admiring and evaluating, in my kitchen she comments, “That is the biggest prep table I’ve ever seen.” She peers into my bedroom, “Broke a mirror, seven years bad luck.” “Just seven?” She slinks over to me, and we kiss. Her mouth is sweet, with a hint of Guinness, always a favorite marinade of mine. Her hand slides down my body, grabbing my ever expanding excitement. She touches every part of me as she slides down me, slowly removing my pants, and taking me into her mouth. I play with her hair as she brings me in and out, stopping to torment me with her tongue. I stand there as the pleasure leaves me and I feel empty, alone. I place my hand under her chin, she stops to kiss my hand and suck my fingers. I cup her cheek in my hand, and pull her up. She seems confused. I caress her cheek, down her neck, to her shoulders, removing her blouse over her head. Stepping back to admire her, so full of life, so desirable, she starts to remove her shorts and panties. I embrace her, my hands running down her back, and cupping her full, rounded rump. She steals a glance at my bed from the corner of her eye, licking her lips, I kiss her and we fumble our way to it. She moans as I enter her, we pulse in rhythm, she looms above me like an angel rising as our motion quickens to keep pace with our hunger. She comes first but I am more than willing to follow her. Her focus shifts, she peers around the room and begins to weep. She apologizes to me, “I’m sorry.” I pull her in and hold her, this is my fault, I promised to take her pain away. My hand reaches for the pin I keep on my night table. I delicately feel her neck and then plunge it deep, her body goes limp above me and her bowels release, I really have to remember that.

“I can’t feel anything, what’s going on? What did you do to me?” I pull myself from beneath her and admire her laying there. “What happened, what did you do?!” Her tone increases as I lift her up to carry her to the bathroom. I put her down gently in the tub, “Why are you doing this?!, her pleas are deep and guttural, they flame my senses. I turn the water on as she lays there like a giant meat doll. I wash us both down, then taking my razor I shave her underside, “I want to leave, please let me leave.”, she sobs as the water rushes across us, I help her hold her head up so I can look her in the eyes, “I made you a promise, and I will keep it.” As I let her head drop down she whines and prays to her god, how does she know I didn’t pray to the same god for her? Attaching a tube to the spigot I drain her and watch the waste run down.

On the tile floor I dry her, “What are you doing to me?!”, I try to hush her, soon it will all be very apparent. Lifting her in my arms I carry her into the kitchen, the feel of her relaxed muscles excites me, squeezing the live meat, selecting the perfect cut. I lay her down on my “giant” prep table and retrieve my favorite marinade, lathering her all over, making sure to work it into each delicious groove, her cries vibrate through her body helping to tenderize. Turning on the radiant oven I remove the rotisserie device, it has a metal heavy screen that holds the meat in place and leaves decorative marks on the flesh. She cries more, I run my hand down her meaty back, she is tender enough, so I firmly wedge a small apple into her pretty mouth, it quiets her, but she continues to moan. Lastly, I shave her head, saving her soft luxurious hair as a memento for my collection.

I close the door and initiate the machine, I watch her face contort and grimace as she slowly spins and begins to cook. The oven is a marvel of science, within minutes the meat reddens and the air wafts with the most tantalizing smell on earth. From time to time I stop to marinate her and keep the meat moist, each time she slips further towards her destiny.

Tonight I dine on a slice of her magnificent rump, her juices cascade down the meat as I slice it, and it melts in my mouth. The child is screaming again, I think he’s hungry.