## Archive-name: mortal_lust

From: Peter Cohen <Pan@cam.org>

Subject: Prose: Mortal Lust

Newsgroups: alt.sex.necrophilia

Mortal Lust

We frolic in the woods, my lover and I, rolling in the grass, making wild and passionate love. The primal eroticism of wild forest surrounds us, imbueing us with animal passion and me with the needs of the hunt. The venir of civilization forgotten, we are left only with our lusts.

That raw impulse of sex, its link inextricably with death and rebirth felt. We feel the earth, our origin from it, our destiny in it. In her, my lover, I see our creation, that warm depth from which we come. In me she sees her danger, that driving force which will make or break the universe. Together our union is sacred, the parts complete, the world made whole.

Yet my need drives me, my hunger feeds me, I must have more. I take her in my teeth and claws and rend her with my loins. The guttural purr of her passion and pain ravages my restraint. I abandon it!

I rake my fingers to arch her back and claim her breasts for my mouth. I bite not lightly to wrench her scream from her lips then rush to claim that too. Our heated pants mingle with tears and sweat runs with sex. Her heaving breasts in sinc with my breath we embrace in a lock with life and death and are consumed by it.

I fill her to my limit yet must fill her more. The emptiness in her belly beacons its yearn, I cry out my frustration as I strive to thrust deeper. Her belly needs me as I need it, to return to its source and conquer its mystery. With my loins, with my hands, with the whole of my being, I enter her, and drive deep, deep, yet not deep enough.

We cry out our frustration with howls of anguished unsatiated desire and loose ourselves with it. The world is silent from the horror we cry as our rage against restraint that limits our union erupts. Blood tang tastes our lips as we snarl in each others flesh.

Instinct overwhelms as I grab a tool and with it plumb her depths. Her spasm rocks the earth as she is laid open and the mystery of her belly revealed. Her hollow filled, we are filled with her agony and our lust. I reach inside to grasp that source of our pleasure and need and squeeze to knead every shread of sensation from her. Her gasps of anguish indistingished from orgasm we arch in a mighty surge of completion and silently scream with attainment and loss.

We are fulfilled.

Last modified (12/24/96 14:11:52) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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