tagRomanceI Have A Craving For Meat

I Have A Craving For Meat


I have this incredible craving for meat. The craving is so intense, I can think of little else - how it looks and especially how it feels and tastes on my tongue and in my mouth. Just the thought of it makes me hot. Since I can't have the meat I'm really after, I go downstairs, go to the freezer and remove a four ounce steak. I fill the sink about 1/3 full with hot water. I slip the steak into the water and go into the living room to pass the time while the steak thaws. I decide to watch an episode of Zalman King's Red Shoe Diaries I had taped the other night but had not yet watched.

I stretch out on the couch and start the show. Usual beginning to a Red Shoe episode - David Duchovny reading a letter written by a woman wronged by love.... The token story line usually continues for about 10 minutes before you get any sex. This episode is no exception. We see a photojournalist (a woman and the author of the letter to David) who is doing a story on high priced hookers - the ones who charge $1500 and up. During this plot building, I go to the sink and decide that the steak is thawed enough for me to broil it. It helps if you broil a steak while it is still a bit frozen - that way it will come out juicy in the middle even if you cook it a bit too long. I hate meat that isn't juicy. I take a very sharp, thin-bladed knife, pierce the corner of the plastic covering the steak and run the blade along the length of the steak making a thin slit in the wrapper. I remove the steak, run it under cold water and place it on a small plate.

I take a bottle of oil out of the cupboard and remove the cap. I pour about a tablespoon or so of oil into the palm of my right hand. I pick up the steak in my left hand and slowly massage the oil into the meat, enjoying the feel of it in my hands as I make sure the entire steak is bathed in oil. I place the steak on foil and place it under the broiler.

Once again ensconced on the couch, I check the progress of Red Shoe.... still establishing plot points. Our journalist has found one of the high priced hooker and has decided to follow her and her customer to his house. Suspension of disbelief is important here as we are to believe that our heroine has no problem getting past the security gate.... She has her camera at the ready - very phallic with its long well formed telephoto lens which she caresses in preparation for taking her pictures. As luck would have it, our photogenic couple are getting ready to go at it in a room complete with large floor to ceiling windows unobstructed with curtains. The attractive expensive hooker comes down a short set of wide stairs and stands framed there perfectly backlit in her long slinky black gown. She quickly loses her dress and the matching underwear underneath. It always amazes me that all of the characters in Red Shoe wear perfectly matching bras and panties. Do women really have that many sets of perfectly matching lingerie? I sure don't. Anyway, the hooker stands (facing the window of course) nipples hard and begging to be sucked. The man stands behind her, kisses her neck and shoulder and caresses her breasts. All the while our heroine stands on the other side of the window - in plain sight and snaps away with her cock-like camera.

About this point I realize I can hear my steak sizzling in the broiler. My appetite begins to whet and my mouth begins to water as I think about getting that meat in my mouth. It has been awhile since I had a good steak. I go to the broiler and turn the steak to the other side. Back to Red Shoe... the man in now sitting in a chair and our lovely hooker is astride him riding him, hips undulating up and down, up and down. The man licks her chest, between her breasts before finally settling on the nipple of her left breast. As he sucks, she throws her head back and rides him harder. About this time, the man looks up and sees the photojournalist snapping away at the window. She steps back behind a bush and looks confused and afraid. She turns to leave and comes face to face with the man, now wrapped in a red satin robe. They talk and we find out his name is Jack. At this point, I retreat to the kitchen to get my steak.

I pull it out from under the broiler and deeply inhale the wonderful aroma. Now, my mouth is really watering. I place the meat on a plate and pick up my thin-bladed knife. I slowly slice the steak - enjoying even the act of cutting into the flesh. Juice spills from the slices and pools on the plate. Before I can stop myself, I take my index finger and dip it into the juice. I place my finger into my mouth and lick off the juice with my tongue. It tastes so good, I suck until the last drop is gone. I finish my cutting and return to the couch with my plate. As I sit down, I realize I have forgotten to bring a fork with me. Oh well, I am comfortable on the couch and don't really want to get up again at the moment. I decide to eat the steak with my hands.

I pick up the first piece, anticipation making my saliva flow. The steak is hot and I burn my fingers slightly which somehow doesn't really bother me. I place the bite on my tongue and let it sit there for a moment. I sigh and close my eyes as the taste hits my taste buds. The warmth of the meat causes a pleasant sensation in my mouth which then seems to travel through the rest of my body. As the juice from the meat begins to trickle down my throat, I begin to suck the bite of steak, wanting to get all of the flavor I can from each piece. Mmmmmm. this tastes so good. I roll the steak around in my mouth, biting, sucking and eventually swallowing. Before picking up the next piece, I lick my fingers to get every drop of juice.

I turn my attention back to Red Shoe. The plot has progressed to the unbelievable point where the hooker tells our photojournalist that Jack only likes to have sex with a woman that he pays. Somehow, it ends up that the journalist and Jack get together. He gives her $1500. As they begin to have sex, we see scenes of Jack with the hooker interspersed with scenes of Jack and the journalist. The scenes parallel. The journalist removes her dress and stands before Jack in her bra and panties. She reaches up and unbuttons his shirt, caressing the skin revealed as each button falls open. As his shirt falls to the floor, her tongue follows a path down his chest and around each nipple in turn. She pushes Jack back and he falls into the chair. She drops to her knees, removing Jack's belt and unzipping his pants. She then stands once again and removes her bra, revealing breasts a bit bigger than a mouthful with fully erect nipples. Jack leans forward and begins to tongue her stomach, removing her thong as his tongue journeys lower. Next we see the journalist on Jack's lap in much the same way the hooker was. She too throws her head back, allowing Jack's mouth easier access to her breast and erect nipple. As we watch, the journalist pushes against Jack, driving him deeper and deeper inside her. The intensity of the experience causes her to grab Jack's hair and bury her face on the top of his head. As she comes, she screams her release and begins to cry into his shoulder. As Jack begins to talk to her, the experience proves to be too much, she flees from hi s lap, grabs her clothes and runs from the house, leaving the money behind.

I realize I have but two pieces of steak left. I pick one up with my fingers and slip it into my mouth, rubbing it over my open lips first. The combination of Red Shoe and the sensual experience of the steak has made me hot and wet. I savor the last few bites of steak, put the plate on the table and begin to lick the last remaining juices from my fingers. As the credits roll, my fingers find their way down my thighs and to my freshly shaved pussy. Gently I touch my clit and begin to rub. My hand starts rubbing faster, faster, making round luscious circles with little lapping sounds as I become wetter. As I become more and more aroused, I put one, then two fingers into my vagina and one into my asshole. The pulsing in my groin is constant now, deep and I know I am about to come. My breathing comes faster and faster and my thighs tense in anticipation. As I hold my breath, an intense orgasm washes over me and I cry out in release. My hand slows as the orgasm slowly melts away.

As I lie here, satiated for the moment, I think of you. I think about how wanting you, hungering for you, started this whole chain of events. I also realize this is the fourth time today I have climaxed, each time started by thinking about you. I wonder if I can write this experience and whether it will be as, shall we say, inspiring to you as the stories I copy out of the books. I want to be able to write my own stories that will entice you, make you want me, crave my taste, make you hot, make you hard, make you stroke yourself faster and faster, make you cum in a shuddering climax while reading them. To this I aspire.

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