the tender meat slid down his throat. His body jerked and bucked as if having a
seizure. Frank looked up at him in awe. He couldn't believe the man was
cumming just by tasting him. They both
col apsed onto the hard dusty floor,
panting heavily.
"Oh my God! That was incredible!"
"You should go now, Frank." Joe's breathing was stil heavy, but his voice was cold and hard. He didn't look at
Frank as he spoke, but rather stared
straight ahead into the shadowy lobby.
"What? You want me to leave? You're not going to fuck me? You don't want
another taste?"
"If you don't leave now, I'l never let you leave. Do you understand? This is the
only chance I'm going to give you to save your life. Leave now and never come
back here." He was stil not looking at Frank. His body was tense now and his
erection had come surging back to life. Frank wanted to take the man's cock
down his throat. But something in Joe's voice let him know that staying there any longer, getting the SuperPredator
aroused again, would have been a death
sentence.
Frank gathered up his clothes and
scampered out into the street, stumbling as he tried to run and step into his pants at the same time. He slid his underwear up over his wounded ass, wincing from
the pain, and hopped down the street
with one leg in and one leg out of his
jeans and the blood saturating his boxer shorts. Joe slammed the door behind
him.
The next day Joe went online again and
was instantly assaulted by instant
messages from Frank begging for a
repeat performance. He logged off and
left the cafe. He had to stay away from the Long Pig Message Board for a
while. It was easier to cure an addiction when there was no supply. Eating that
one slice of flesh from Frank's buttocks had been the most intense sexual
experience he'd ever had and he wanted
more. Much more. He knew now that
whatever was wrong with him was
beyond his control and that if he saw the little man again he'd probably murder
and eat him. He had to get more serious about finding a cure. There was no way
SAA could handle this problem.
After a quick shower, Joe caught the
BART train back to campus. He kept his
head down, trying not to make eye
contact with anyone as he made his way
across campus to the university library. He was afraid that his eyes would betray his thoughts. There was a smal piece of gristle between his teeth from his recent appetizer. He worked at it with his
tongue, trying to worry it free. Each time his tongue brushed the miniscule piece
of flesh a fresh tingle went through his loins.
Chapter Eight
The library emptied out as even the diehard medical students and political science majors final y returned their
dusty old books to the shelves and
dragged their tired minds back to their dorms. Joe had heard it said that when
you slept your mind let go of al logic and structure, al sanity and order, for the madness of dreams. Joe wanted
anything but madness. He was actively
trying to fight it off. He was convinced that he was onto something, something
that would explain the insatiable hunger roiling within him.
Joe knew that he was not a monster. Not Joe knew that he was not a monster. Not by choice. Maybe none of the others
were either? Not until they were altered by whatever sickness had infected him.
If it was a disease, not a disease of the mind but a true physical virus that was somehow transmitted from one person
to the next, then it could be cured. There might be an antidote.
Piled before him were three stacks of
books four feet high that encompassed
nearly two centuries of rape, murder, and superstition. Joe poured through the tal stacks until the moon had traveled from one side of the sky to the other. He knew that the librarian must have been dying of curiosity. She had seen him there
every night for over a month scouring
through books on serial murder,
vampirism, and lycanthropy, doing
computer searches on war criminals and
mob mentality, sexual fetishes, and
cannibalism. He knew that she must
have been curious to know what it was
he was working on, but she had only
asked him once and when he hadn't
replied, she'd had the good sense to
More than once, Joe had masturbated
sitting right there in that library, imagining tearing into her voluptuous buttocks with his teeth and devouring the tender flesh in huge gulps. He'd hid his frantic hand movements behind an unabridged
dictionary and sprayed his semen from
neurosurgery to nightingale. Then he'd
left quickly, sure that she had noticed. When he returned the next day she
smiled politely and gave no indication
that she was aware of having been the
star of his gruesome masturbatory
fantasies.
Just last week he'd even painted her
portrait. He'd composed several
sketches of her, stealing glances at her generous buttocks as she scuttled back
and forth between the rows of dusty
books. When he'd gotten home that night he'd let out his pent-up sexual energies onto the canvas. He'd masturbated
several times as his passion boiled over and his paintbrush whipped across the
canvas in violent slashes of reds, whites, and beiges, mixing his own blood and
semen into the paint. When he was done
he'd hidden the portrait away in his little apartment across town along with al the others. Anyone seeing it would have
immediately recognized his obsession.
Even in the abstract she looked like
meat.
It was past three o'clock in the morning when Joe's eyelids would no longer
remain aloft and his head came crashing down into the middle of Colin Wilson's
Criminal History of Mankind with a thud that echoed loudly throughout the empty room.
"Okay, you. Time to let the monsters rest for a night. Go home and get some
sleep now."
Joe nodded and rose from the table
where he sat behind a mountain of
books. He eyed the pleasantly plump
librarian's large breasts with interest and saw her shudder beneath the heat of his gaze and cross her arms over her
breasts as if to protect them from more than just his eyes. Embarrassed, Joe
gathered up a few books to check out
and stumbled toward the desk. He had
an erection bulging in his pants and he'd seen her eyes zero in on it before he
could cover it with a hardbound copy of 120 Days of Sodom.
The librarian walked behind him, not
wanting to feel his voracious eyes
crawling over her ass, as Joe staggered toward the front desk. Not that she had a particularly nice one in her opinion. It was far too large and her hips were too wide. And not that she thought herself
particularly attractive. Emma Purcel
hadn't felt attractive since she'd turned forty and her breasts had drooped and
her ass had spread, but something
about the way Joe stared at her made
her fear that he might rape her or worse. She didn't know what it was but she
preferred to have
him in clear view at al times.
Maybe she was just reacting to the fact that the man had slowly worked his way
through every book on deviant sexuality and serial murder in the entire library and was now apparently branching out
into monsters and werewolves.
When he checked out his morbid little
books and left, she sighed audibly and
crossed herself, asking God to forgive
her for the moistness spreading
between her thighs at the thought of what such a powerful young man could do to
her.
Joe walked down the steps and out the
front door of the library into a waiting cab. He stuffed the armload of books
onto the backseat then jumped in and
directed the driver back toward the
dorm.
The temptation to cruise through the
Tenderloin for street prostitutes was
overpowering and it took a supreme act
of wil to tel the driver to turn right on Sixth Street instead of left, but Joe knew that there would be nothing up there to stop him from indulging his appetites. It would be like a morbidly obese woman
trying to diet at Baskin Robbins. Where he was going was more like the
supermarket. At least there would be
somewhat healthier choices available
even if he were not inclined to make
them.
He pul ed up in the crowded parking lot and looked around to make sure he
didn't recognize any of the cars. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted by
one of the other students or worse yet a faculty member. There was no way of
being sure. He obviously didn't know
everyone at the university but at least he didn't see any cars belonging to anyone in his immediate acquaintance.
Joe listened to the crunchy sound of the gravel crackling beneath his feet as he walked across the parking lot. He sniffed the night air and tried to pick out the smel s of sex from the pungent stench of urine, exhaust fumes, cigarettes, and
alcohol. He tried to hear the pants and moans above the sound of techno dance
music emanating from the smal
storefront. He was losing himself. In his anxiousness to get inside the club he'd left his library books back in the taxi. He'd have to try to track them down in
the morning. But for now, the hunger was ful y upon him, demanding his absolute
attention.
Joe flashed his ID and paid his twenty
bucks. He reached down and readjusted
his cock, which had swel ed until it
pressed painful y against the coarse
fabric of his jeans and rubbed against
his zipper. The monster was awake.
He stripped off his shirt and unbuckled his pants, freeing the raging monster
from its prison of denim. After handing his clothes to the topless coat-check girl with the pierced nipples who was so
skinny you could see rib bone through
her chest, the massive sophomore
began to make his rounds through the
club. Almost immediately he spotted a
woman who seemed plucked from his
darkest fantasies. He knew that he was
going to do something bad tonight.
She was absolute perfection, a tal
voluptuous Spanish beauty with long
flowing hair that hung down to her ample waistline. She had catlike almond eyes, ful rose-colored lips, and cinnamon tan skin like some delicate pastry. None of these attributes were what caught his
eye, though. She had thick hips and
thighs and a deliciously plump and
luscious posterior that jiggled as she
walked, awakening the monster's hunger
with each step she took. It was more
beautiful than water to a dehydrated
desert traveler. Joe swal owed again
and again as he began to salivate
uncontrol ably.
Joe had seen her there before. Usual y
she was with some queer boy or another
and once she came in arm in arm with a
six-foot lesbian. She was an absolute
fag-hag but he knew that she was not
gay herself. Though he'd seen her
tonguing that Amazon's clit in one of the orgy rooms, he'd also seen her in a
threesome with two jocks he recognized
from col ege. He'd masturbated in a
corner by himself watching the two
basketbal players lubricate their latexsheathed erections and fuck her in one hole after another as she moaned and
quivered in ecstasy, looking as if she
was in heaven. He watched as they both
climaxed and then left her just short of her own orgasm, laughing and highfiving as she cursed at them. They dressed and left, stil chuckling over their own good fortune. He'd fol owed her out to the curb and watched as she angrily
fought against the tears threatening to spil from her eyes, final y losing after a valiant struggle. Joe had wanted to go to her then, but something had held him
back. The hunger was not as strong then and she hadn't seemed like prey. She'd
seemed like someone that he could
have fal en in love with. A whore with a heart of gold.
Now, as she strode past him, Joe
watched the seductive sway of that
exorbitant ass as if in a trance. His lust was at a fever pitch and even the
memory of her heartbreaking tears
seemed to fuel his desire. He felt the
hunger surge within him, driving steel
through his loins. Her ass was perfect, the most beautiful, sumptuous buttocks
he had ever beheld. His salivary glands went into overdrive and Joe wiped the
drool from his mouth repeatedly as he
stalked her through the sex club, that ass drawing him irresistibly toward it.
The club was cal ed The Backdoor and it seemed the perfect setting for a woman
with an ass that looked like God had
shed a teardrop that slid down her back, nestled just above her thighs, and
became flesh. This was the place where
couples came to put spice back into
their marriages by swapping mates or
picking up a spare for a threesome.
Singles came here looking to be a part
of a menage a trois or a random orgy. It was rare that two singles met in a place like this. But Joe was not interested in having to suck off some dude just to get some quality time with his wife, not when he could get exactly what he wanted out of this voluptuous princess.
Some might have cal ed her overweight,
those woman-hating faggots in the
fashion industry for instance, whose
standard of beauty is based upon the
breastless, hipless, thighless, assless physiques of prepubescent boys. They
had no appreciation at al for true
femininity. For them womanhood was
something to be suppressed, strapped
down, starved away, and hidden beneath
layers of clothing and shame. It was
obvious that this woman was having
none of this. She was proud of the gifts nature had imbued her with. It showed in the fit of her clothing, the tilt of her head, and the swish of her hips. To Joe she
was the very essence of sensuality, her every curve dramatical y enhanced, her
sexuality exaggerated to pornographic
proportions. Her ass looked as if
someone had taken two beach bal s and
shoved them down the back of her
jeans. Perfectly round and absolutely
enormous! Joe was transfixed by it.
It jiggled and bounced maddeningly,
wobbling h
igh on her lower back as if it were waving to him. He wanted her so
bad that it hurt. He could see the
radiance of her wild spirit shimmering in her sinews, in her skin, fat, and muscle. He could smel it scorching the air. Her flesh was alive with the energy of life. Joe smirked as he thought about al
those misguided spiritualists and
religious zealots who mistakenly
believed that the soul was some
separate entity imprisoned in human
flesh. But he knew better. Spirit is flesh. Inseparable and indivisible. He had
tasted it himself. He reached down and
began stroking himself as he fol owed
her from room to room.
Al around couples, threesomes,
foursomes, and more, fucked, sucked,
spanked, and masturbated with what
seemed an overabundance of energy.
Only sex addicts came to these types of places and any true addict would have
sex for as long as sex was available
regardless of hunger, thirst, fatigue, pain, or discomfort. Of al people, Joe should know. His own addictions had led him
beyond the limits of sanity and morality. Just as it was now leading him through a sex club with his throbbing hard cock
pointing the way, like a divining rod.
The Spanish woman stopped abruptly
and her rotund buttocks continued to
jiggle for several seconds after the rest of her body had ceased movement. Joe
felt both elated and disappointed now
that her ass had stopped its bewitching dance. He could now catch up to her, but he could no longer delight in her
salacious movements. If al went wel , he reminded himself, he would have far
more to delight in soon.
"Uh ... hel o?" Joe reached out and tapped her on the shoulder, feeling
foolish as he drooped his shoulders and bowed his head in an effort to appear
smal er and less intimidating. But Joe
was enormous. There was no way he
could look anything but intimidating. He had gotten very adept at playing the
gentle giant, however. Every year on the news he'd heard about people getting
mauled to death for being dumb enough
to try to pet polar bears and grizzlies because the things were so cute. He
figured he could look at least as cute as a grizzly.
When she turned around Joe was
stunned by how young and innocent her
face appeared. She had pudgy cheeks
with deep dimples, ful bow-shaped lips, and large timid eyes with thick heavy
eyelashes. The body of a whore with the face of an angel. Her breasts were