Tropical Breakdown

She’s been feisty from the beginning, I’ll give her that. She fights off my hands even now. She’s much thicker-skinned than the last girl I’d taken. That body of hers leaves an impression, that’s for sure. Tough, hearty skin lays over toned flesh. She’s truly an exotic beauty, not ready to kneel for me. Despite her strong disposition, her face is flushed in my presence. No matter how tough she acts, she’s just like all the others. Still, my previous approach won’t work with her. The last was sweet and submissive, this one simply requires a bit more… creativity. A knife ought to leave her more open to my advances. I ghost the blade over her skin, anticipation building in both of us. Where to start, where to start. The tip finally pierces her skin, beads of moisture already gathering at its edge. I flick my tongue over her entrance, tasting her. She’s as sweet as I’d hoped. I slip the knife under her skin, slowing peeling it up from the flesh underneath. Her juices start running down my arms, pooling on the table. More and more skin gathers on the floor, letting her delectable scent wash over me. I tell myself to wait, to be civilized. I carve off a piece of flesh, struggling to pull it away from the bone. She’s a fighter down to the core, it seems. Finally, the moment I’ve been waiting for. My teeth sink into the glistening chunk of meat. Her juices soak into my tongue, flooding me with her flavor. I can’t help the shudder of delight that runs through my shoulders. Growing frantic, I slice away more and more of her skin. This pretense of refinement grows tiring. I’m all alone with her, and no one knows or cares where she is. The knife falls to the table, my civility left behind in favor of a savage sense of pleasure. Teeth rip into her side, tearing ribbons of wet flesh from her form. Her slick is everywhere. I run my tongue up against her bleeding walls, rubbing against her bones. Delicate strands of meat are left plastered to my cheeks, fluids dripping down my chin. Her body, broken and dying as it was, still was clinging to a vision of survival. Flesh refused to pull away from the bone, desperately holding on to her long desecrated dignity. I love it when they fight back. The easy flesh of higher layers is sucked down my gullet with little fanfare. I run my teeth over her bones, sucking out the life-giving fluids coating them. This innermost part of her is far sweeter than any other. I drink her dry, taking in every drip of her climax. The rest is abandoned, buried in a dumpster. She’s one of the messiest I’ve taken in, her fluids coating both me and the table. Watching that proud spirit break was worth the cleanup. Her flesh was stuck between all my teeth, lodged deep. It didn’t want to leave. Such a pretty, feisty girl she used to be. In the act, that was certainly a lovely quality. Now, It's growing tiresome. I've eaten my fill, yet here she is: left as nothing but a bleeding wreck, still begging me to take her. Pathetic, really. Well, there was always the next time.