My Lovely Little Peach

I run my hands over her supple skin, studying her. She hardly yields, young and nubile little thing she is. The soft fuzz of her cheek floods me with desire. My lips ghost her skin, breathing in her lovely scent. Delectable. I find my mark in her soft expanse of blushing skin. My teeth pierce her flesh, fresh juices flooding my mouth. I dig deeper, tearing her firm yet tender flesh. I rip off a piece and stare at the weeping hole in her side. She’s so stoic, refusing to submit even now. Not an ounce of pain mars her rounded face. I swallow my first taste of her, fluids dripping down my chin. There’s no holding back now. I go in, again and again, the initial tenderness vanishing in favor of ravaging every part of her. I strike bone, flesh peeling back from its pitted surface. She’s such a sweet girl, so tender. She’s laying back and letting me break her, not even a token protest passes her lips. What a pity, I’d been looking for a fight. Her slick melts into me. The little thing was probably enjoying this, being consumed. She was bred for it, after all. She’s running out of flesh to give. I caress her exposed bones, ready to end this. The last shreds of her succulent flesh disappear between my teeth. She’s unrecognizable without her pretty face. I discard her useless remains without a thought. She left a mess all over me, so inconsiderate. I wash away any evidence of what I’ve done. Better to deal with it now than letting all her juices dry onto the floor. Her taste lingers on my tongue. My lovely little peach is already half-forgotten, even as I'm pulling pieces of her from between my teeth.