Bodies flowing along the impersonal streets of Chatswood as my eyes suck dry the exotic sexual images that exude from the desirable female bodies available for consumption.
Lycra is the fashion paraded by those unsuspecting succulent delights of flesh for me.
Much to my delight those beautiful seductive bottoms are available and displayed for the unwary male to consume and immerse their eyes in, and later to embellish in their own fantasy about her.
All the pretence of these walking statues; to be appalled by this consumerism of their own flesh on their way to their own consumption of greed.
These ignorant flappers live for shopping, they are unknowingly the desire of men who consume their images for their own pleasures.
Still I watch the shapes and sizes flow past me to tease my weary body back to life.
A man, physically capable, and in my male life I am ignited by the beauty of the female form; whether it be the young or old women.
There for me to consume as I reflect the images they desire for themselves; for me to know.
She is there, available for all to see, her bottom covered in the black cement of lycra flowing across the streets of Chatswood for all to consume.
I take my bites of the flesh before me, yearning lustfulness in my eyes as they are feasting on her delightfully seductive form.
Whatever you preference the meat market is open for you today.
So much flesh is available for you to consume; unrelentlessly horny men engaging their consumeristic eyes of firey desire on the female forms.
And while the bulge in my pants is missing in action, my eyes cannot be denied their quest to invigorate the pleasure centre of my mind and I consume the parading flesh before me; like the other men around me.
So what of me, the consumerist addict of the female flesh to feast upon in blissful seduction; some direct their unconditional disgust at my wanton consumerism.
Still my desire for new flesh holds me there, my eyes peeled for one who may ignite the fire of my reproductive imperatives and buy my intrigue.
What of love you demand in indignation?
Poor fool you.
You should spit out love, for it has flown away to a place more nuturing than the harsh streets of Chatswood.
Here is no place for the meek.
For here is the harsh flocks of human bodies, where flesh is consumed by amoral eyes of lustful wealth.
Another place in time where the moral guidance of the caring has flown away in fright, for flesh is in abundance to gaze upon; as the butchers prepare their daily windows in a parade of seductive bodies.
And thus I sit and stare at the windows created by my eyes, the pieces of feminine flesh, and such tasty dressed meats they are too.
My mother, my sisters, and my daughters, left to hang in some other street stall.
Horrors of my minds lust, they live to be consumed by different men.
Men ready to consume them as they press their flesh into the physical world of human kinds future.
Lust overdone, love lost, and those horny blind men.
All of us men, ready to fuck you now; please let me stick my cock in your pussy now.
You are the flesh and I yearn to have you now.