Graphic by Katie Kostak
Succulent, plump, wet flesh
Aloft, not unlike an angel, suspended in a glass prison
A slight squirt of sweet, sticky liquid escapes
My instrument plunges into the amber depths
I capture my sumptuous prize.
It catches the light and glistens with a honeyed glow
A stray drip falls on my porcelain wrist and slowly traces a path down my forearm.
My maw gapes, desperate. Craving.
It’s almost too big.
Almost.
My lips remain slightly parted as I clench
The mass squelches, pleasantly filling me up
A slight moan escapes
My eyes roll back in my head
I use my tongue to masticate the mushy goodness
It slides pleasantly down my throat, into my gullet
But my need is not satiated…
