Mae - 4. Tight Fit

Reads: 118  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Featured Review on this writing by AdamCarlton

Fond memories of her lost youth in Pwllheli.

Parasites, symbiotic parasites. Dependents. Succulents. Tantalising. Entities. Silhouettes. Coupled, entwined, clamped to each other in an excruciating, cramped recess: a tight fit!

Mae’s hole stank! Her hole was alive! Crawling, with centipedes, lice, flies, spiders, mice, rats, less savoury inhabitants: phylum Mollusca secreting their slimy excrements over the pebble-dash walls. Nick, who was claustrophobic, diabetic, and suffered chilopodophobia poured with sweat, struggled to breathe, craved liquid, crushing creepy-crawlies with his head, shoulders, back, posterior and legs. Mae soothed his fraught mind, rubbing his torso, fluffing his thin hair, cradling his head in her hands, making the man feel loved - needed. She found a kind of love for him, call it a selfish affection, love that dispelled discomfort.

His shirt was first to go – carefully unbuttoned from neck to waist, Mae gently tugging at his tails, opening out the cuffs, airing, freeing him, before peeling off the sodden chemise, like smelly cellophane off a ripe camembert. She pecked at his nipples with her pursed lips, smothering Nick’s hairy chest, the rippled folds of flab sheathing his gross abdomen, with soft kisses.

Hearing the man gasp for her, Mae knelt on the dusty concrete floor and pulled off his sweaty, smelly, brogues, the cheap socks from the local minimarket: olive green with red dragon emblazons. Fond memories of her lost youth in Pwllheli. Halcyon holidays at Butlins. Eating her mum and dad, the winners of beauty contests: young men, women, all captivated by her disarming smile, captured, dismembered, barbecued on the family patio, served with shoestring fries, catsup, tossed tomato, raw onion salad, to discerning friends with an appetite for human flesh. The missing persons list grew, suspicions were aroused. Ann had simply changed her name, identity, cultivated a new personality, new look, gone into hiding, then resurfaced as Mae: at night, on rainy days, in dark recesses, black turrets, grey cells, summerhouses, charnel houses, carnal houses. She heard her fresh carrion cry,

‘I love you, Mae. Your my world.’

Touched by her prey’s kindness, his loving words for her, she set about preparing him for the slaughterhouse. There were real tears in her eyes when Mae unbuckled his belt, pulled down his trousers, and freed him. Choking with emotion, gagging on her pent-up tongue, she held the naked man in her arms, held him close, his body pressed against hers, opened her mouth, and kissed him. They kissed invasively, like symbiotic parasites, drinking each other’s saliva. Mae’s tongue swelled inside her prey’s mouth, filling his throat, secreting her digestive enzyme. Stunned, incapacitated, he became her dependent, her succulent, tantalising entity. Silhouettes, coupled, entwined, clamped to each other, they fell thru her psychotic abyss, spiralling ever downwards into a narrowing recess - ending in a pinprick.

Mae plunged her prey into a sea of light, discarding him, spent, and wasted, on her grey cell floor. His meat: stress-free, cells: free of lactic acid, since her tender caress, his mind: neutralized by the vixen’s toxic kiss, Nick lay twitching in spasm, mute, unable to scream. 


Submitted: June 15, 2021

© Copyright 2021 HJ FURL. All rights reserved.

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Comments

AdamCarlton

This is too good a meal to pass without an appreciative comment.

Wed, June 16th, 2021 3:56pm

Author
Reply

Ah, thank you Adam for your lovely words!

Mae, Grey Cell is up next - Friday, with a fair wind and a thunderstorm, if not before!

Best Wishes,

HJ

Wed, June 16th, 2021 10:36am

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