The Male Penis Revisited.

I am very horny. I want you, yes, you, to take that cock you have there and out it in me. No, not in my mouth. Well, I mean, of course it’ll go in my mouth just not right now. Lower. There’s a lower hole. EEK! Not THAT hole either! That hole has never taken a cock! Well, not on the first date and you better tell me you love me first. No, put that cock right HERE.

No, really, I’m not joking. I know, a cunt can look weird if you’ve never seen one before. Trust me, cock looked really weird the very first time I sucked one. But after you’ve had- well, I can’t count numbers. I estimate each cock I’ve had in me has been 8″ to 9″ inches, and over the years I figure I’ve had about three hundred miles of cock in me. Not counting the repeat cocks. Anyway. What was I saying? Oh yeah!

Now just put the head right… Oooh, you’ve got it. Slides right in, doesn’t it? Yeah, feels incredible to me too! There are no words- you have to hope the woman you’re talking to has been fucked before, so she’ll understand when you say, “It’s like- 6″ of cock in you on  a cold morning and you don’t want to get up.”

Now, make sure you’re riding me up high- we need to be able to rock when you thrust, keep the base of your wonderful, wonderful cock grinding against my clitoris. If you lean up, no, stay in, just lean up, there you see? That’s my clit. It’s like a female cock, though we tend to say your penis is like a male clitoris.  Just make sure there’s a lot of clitoral contact while you fuck me with that rocking motion.

Oh jesus, oh fuck, just- just fuck me, fuck me harder. Harder- I want to feel your cock in my throat! God, oh god- yes, just- oh fuck, fuck me- fuck- FUCK- oh fuck me jesus, fuck me jesus, just fuck me Fuck Me oh JESUS FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK FUUUUUUUUUck-

…meeeeee oh god yes, oh god yes thank you oh thank you no don’t pull out leave it in me just lay on me for a while I like the feel of your skin and you smell really nice no, you do really yes even when covered in sex sweat you silly goose mmm kiss me please that’s nice mmmmm no just leave it in it’s okay if it’s soft it’ll stay for a while, just hold me and breathe…

Almost Done! Diamond & Denfall, Part Almost Done :)

All done but the shouting! But I thought I’d get this out there for all my friends 🙂 Enjoy, I hope!

 

Anne

 

———————-

Jet Diamond closed his eyes and hissed quietly in irritation. Every time he got close to the ‘zone’ there was another interruption and BANG back to real life. It was hard to concentrate as it was, he was so hungry. Terrified to eat anyone, Diamond was slowly wasting away, his skin getting looser on his body.

The knock on the door came again, louder, and Jet hissed louder, shaking his head. This action flipped his glasses on their hinge and the lenses fall over his eyes. “Come in,” he yelled. Dammit, he didn’t have any appointments today. Or this week. Or at all, anywhere, any more. His reputation ruined, his career in shambles; each day his only pleasure in life was another day past in which he didn’t go to jail.

It was impossible to live this way.

The cheap particle board door swung slowly open and the bright light in the hall dazzled Jet’s eyes enough he couldn’t see who his visitor or visitors were. “Come in,” he repeated. As a reptilian being, serpent in particular, Jet’s eyes were only adequate at best. His real organ of detection was his sensitive tongue. He kept it flickering in the direction of the doorway as his guests, plural, entered. His tongue detected the smell and taste of a man, Hightower, and another person. No, not a person- a woman. Food. The taste was delicious and familiar. And she drew closer and Jet could see from the absolutely immense flash globes on her chest it was- Dr. Denfall. Here to torment him further? But why was Hightower with her then?

“Dr. Hightower, Dr. Denfall,” he said as they stood before his desk. “Please, take a seat the two of you.” He ducked his snout toward 2 plush chairs behind them. He had been told by many human beings that they were very comfortable. He’d only eaten half of those people afterward; the food ones. The women.

Dr. Denfall kept her stance in front of the desk while Dr. Hightower awkwardly pulled on his pant legs and waistband before sitting, tugging and tucking his shirt afterward. Dr. Denfall kept her arms at her side, one hand holding a manila folder, the only clothing on her body being her glasses. Her nipples were hard, scrunched tight in obvious sexual excitement. Her vulva was flushed red, eager for penetration; Dr. Denfall was one of the very few women of the world who, when sexually excited, became so wet her vaginal fluids would run in rivulets down her inner legs- and right now she had the beginnings of a puddle going.

“Dr. Diamond, I have something I have to say and I am ashamed, embarrassed, and so very sorry I have to do this. I am so very sorry for my poor behavior. I let my grief over the loss of my friend confuse me; I forgot that as women we are food first, people second. I believe this is part of the reason so many other species of the world have turned to eating women, turned to swallowing them whole and digesting them alive. It’s because even as we remember that we are food, so is the rest of the world remembering. It’s not a plague or some terrible change, simply food being eaten because it is food.

“Please,” said Dr. Denfall as she set the folder on Diamonds desk, opening it and setting the papers on the desk to Diamond could read them all easily. “These are all letters, witnessed by Dr. Hightower and notarized. I have written the police, my lawyers, all the local institutions I have used and apologized to each of them for wasting their time. I retract all claims and charges. These,” she said as she set out new letters for him to look at, “are letters to every journal or magazine that I have ever written, and those I have not, retracting every statement I have ever made and apologizing for my actions. This is the very least I can do to show my regret over my actions.

“I am also telling you this. Dr. Diamond, please, I mean this sincerely. Swallow me whole, digest me alive. I am not only food for you, I am food that is so very sorry for every horrible thing she has ever done. I am food, Dr. Diamond. I am a woman. I am food. Women were put on this earth to be eaten by snakes. And snakes were put on this earth to eat women. Please, Dr. Diamond. Eat me.”

Dr. Denfall took off her glasses and lay on the floor on her back. Arms beside her, gigantic firm breasts rolling to either side of her rib cage and still those huge tits met at her middle. They towered over her face. Denfall knew when she lay on her back like this that, from above, she looked like the legs of a woman below, and just two gigantic tits on top.

Jet Diamond looked down at the nude woman on his floor, her eyes closed and her hands at work in her crotch. He looked at Hightower who simply waved a hand down at the nude woman, saying “Bon’ appetit’,” as he did so. Oh, where to start, where to start. Jet loved swallowing women whole either way, head first or feet first. He’d swallowed a few women ass first, their bodies bent at the middle and ankles around their necks. One woman he’d swallowed hands and feet first in this position, stopping when just her ass and wet gaping cunt were barely unswallowed. He’d allowed a friend and fellow human scientist to fuck the woman’s cunt in his mouth for a few days, finally swallowing her down when she was so full of semen she overflowed, hitting the two gallon mark.

In the end he decided to start at her feet. That allowed her to come to him wet cunt first and that meant his tongue had a nice place to visit for a while. Tasty, tight, and warm.

He slipped her feet into his mouth and he smiled as she gasped a little. He swallowed slowly, savoring the feet of her warm, silky soft legs slid slowly into his mouth and down his throat. His lips stretched tighter as he swallowed her deeper into him. Her legs were getting thicker as he brought her hips closer. Her feet inched slowly deeper into him, slow swallow by slow swallow. Her knees entered his mouth, tip of his snout over both, and yet the sides of his mouth were still down at mid calf. Both of her hands were still busy, one hand working her clit and the other hand piercing her tight wet hole with the fingers and thumb of her other hand. She stiffened again as another orgasm rolled through her. Her legs were still bent at hip and knee though she would have to straighten out very soon as he swallowed her deeper.

When her hips slid into his mouth and her delicious smelling and wonderfully tasting cunt and ass grew closer, Jet’s tongue pushed her fingers aside and he took over. His tongue was magic, his technique flawless. His forked tongue teased and tortured her erect, throbbing clitoris driving into multiple orgasm after multiple orgasm with little chance to breathe between them. He entered her birth canal with his tongue, grinding her G spot and pushing at her vaginal walls. She came again from the vaginal penetration and manipulation, then again as his tongue merely flicked her clit and drove her into instant clitoral orgasm. At last, limp and insensate in his mouth, she could only lay and pant.

He swallowed her inch by inch until his snout was between her gigantic tits, nose at the base of her throat and his lower jaw on her neck. Her arms pushed upward like a diver, and her tits rolled over and covered her face. She knew that she looked like the snake was swallowing two gigantic pillow tits and not a woman but that was ok. As long as she was swallowed whole and digested alive like the food she knew she was it was all going to be A-OK.

——————————

 

Next time- DONE!

 

Anne

Wow. My Sincere Apologies. I Do That A Lot.

Time gets slides right around me and I don’t even realize it is happening. If I had realized that my last post was the 18th of last month, I would have posted a lot more. I so sorry.

I am finding it a trifle hard to come to grips with my husband being gone. My sleep is destroyed, my days are terrible, and my nights are worse. I AM slowly slowly slowly getting over his loss but my God. It’s so hard.

I am trying to write. Got ideas. Been working on them. Been trying to remember to come online as well! I have my kids over a lot after school and sometimes until almost 8:30 pm near daily so that is good but it means that by the time I even think of coming online most of y’all have gone to bed.

So there is that.

Still sober tho!

So there is THAT.

Well, wanted to let everyone know that I ain’t dead. Unlike my husband who currently resides in crunchy form in a plastic bag, in a box, in our bedroom.

See you all WAY sooner WITH a story no less!

*KISS*

Anne

I Wish

I had more time and had a better outlook on things. So far I have been spending 20 out of 24 hours of each day taking care of my dying husband.

Before we got married, he told me that he might need a valve replacement at some point in the future but it would be nothing to worry about.

Just after the birth of Josh, our youngest, his heart went and the rest of his systems quickly fell apart as well. He had 2 heart valves replaced and we learned his heart is just  a mass of scar tissue.

That was 2004. In 2006 they told him he would be lucky to live 5 years but Willem has always been a fighter. Enough shit has gone down between 2004 and 2014 that it would have killed twenty five other men. In a row.

But like he has told me in his weak moments that shame him so much, it’s just too hard to fight any more.

And so my Willem, the only man I have ever truly loved, is going away to leave me alone for the rest of my life.

Until that time however, I have to make sure he is comfortable, takes his meds when comfortable, give him an IV injection complete with computerized pump, give him pain meds to keep him comfortable, check and clean his catheter, set him on the commode when he feels the urge to “go”, feed him, keep his hospital bed sheets clean and comfortable, and then at the end of the day, try to going to our big empty bed and sleep for an hour or two before I get up and start it all again.

Amazingly, I have been working on vore stories in my head lately during all this 🙂  My pussy is pretty much dead right now, pleasure wise, but my clitoris has been asking for some attention lately and I can’t let the poor dear suffer 😉  I’ll have something for y’all pretty soon, dunno if it’s anything that y’all are expecting however.

Well, other than some poor chick sliding through a gaping serpent maw, then down a slick serpent throat until she is tucked tight in a hot, wet, serpent stomach to be digested alive…

Oooh, I feel a tingle! 😉

Anne

On Friday (It’s Thursday Night)

I am going to go and pick up my husband from the hospital. He is coming home!

Yay!

On hospice.

Ya- oh. Uh. Oh God.

Hospice, for those of you who don’t know, is medical care for those who are going to die in less than the next 6 months. They will provide care to make to make the victi- patient as comfortable as possible in the home so they may die comfortably, with family, at home.

I am bringing my husband home to die.

So the blog, and my stories, and me, will continue as sorta is for months and hopefully months. When the time comes, we shall see what happens next.

Jus’ keepin’ y’all filled in!

Anne

Cold As Ice Beneath Her Fingertips,

candlelight glinting off the heavy metal frame. His face is young, the photograph under glass now ten years old. Pain in her chest; aching, missing him. Her fingers leave wet trails, sliding through tears she hadn’t realized were falling. Forever frozen with his half smile, his hair is too long and his mustache shaggy enough for two men. As if some minor political celebrity, he had signed his photograph for her; ‘Zathras’ in metallic silver ink, his self-aware nickname for the pompous sounding ‘Zoticus Acacian Thrasias’ given him by his parents.

She stands in cold and dark, lit only by the single candle on the table behind her. Her telephone is still on the carpet where she dropped it earlier, hours before. His parents, bearers of the bad news. An automobile accident; blaring horn of a lorry with a blown tyre sliding into the ancient Nubi. Zathras was taken instantly,  a line of rail punching through his chest and spearing his heart- brought down like the warrior he would have been three centuries prior. The Nubian driver lingered in pain, a slow bleed in his abdomen reducing him to childlish tears as his life drained away, trapped in the wreck of his cherished car. The driver of the lorry unhurt as fate so often decrees, yet the most guilty of the three for it was his neglect that brought this about; his tyres uninspected the entire last year.

——————————————–

A Modern Roman Empire story. Yes, Zathras, I know I have been writing like the Days of Old in my stories of late- but that has been through sheer laziness. I’ve been working on the voice of the stories, trying it on this tale here. This is just the beginning, I’ll try and show y’all when it’s done. The life of a woman is ephemeral but bright, a lifetime of living in two decades or less. A man however, his life stolid and slow, is the bedrock that holds Rome together.

Anne

Gods Above, My Life

You don’t want my life. Most of the time *I* don’t want my life. I am so sorry I have been gone AGAIN with nothing to show for it on my blog or my site, but gawdamm. I have had to deal with teen drama, pre-teen drama, and pre pre-teen drama as well as my husband’s health going downhill drama and depression drama as well. Well, most of this has not been drama so much as just fucked up but there ya go.

Anyway, I have finally gotten through MOST of the bad stuff currently flooding my life with only a few things left, I hope, except that nothing ever stops does it? And some of the things in my life are only going to get worse- re: my husband’s health and re: my own health.

I have been trying to get some writing done but in the last two weeks I haven’t even been able to get behind the keyboard let alone type a story.

Here’s something I can tell you that is both horribly sad and terribly terribly pathetic. I never used to get why people used tablet computers. I thought they were dumb. Then Rudy bought one and I thought I couldn’t be left behind like this, so I started in on the horrible cycle. I bought one, a cheapo brand.

OMIGOD I understood why people liked them. I LOVED it. It was AWESOME. Then I broke it. And bought another since I bought the Walmart warranty. And broke that one. Replaced it. Broke that one. Replaced it. Broke THAT one. Replaced it.

I am not fucking kidding when I tell you that after breaking and replacing the tablet all the above times, I then BROKE and REPLACED the

NEXT

SIX

TABLETS

in a row after that. Then I told myself, Rudy, and GOD HIMSELF that I would NOT break the very next one I bought. And it was AWESOME, a Nook HD+ 16. Oh my GOD. I took this one everywhere with me.

I took it to BED with me.

I broke it six days ago.

I am hoping that Walmart still sells the Nook HD+16 this upcoming “payday” when we get our disabled checks so I can get a new one, since Barnes and Noble stopped MAKING the Nook HD+.

If I ever break this next one, I give up on them entirely. Because as much as I LOVE tablets, I might not be the person who can HAVE a tablet.

 

Well, Isn’t THAT Amusing

I went to my Gmail account, and I couldn’t get in. My password was not what I remembered it to be. Irritating. So I told it to reset my password, and it sent the info to my alternate addy at yahoo.

…And when I went to sign in at Yahoo, that password didn’t work either. I tried reseting that password as well, but the alternate for my Yahoo is my Gmail, so… 🙂

I went to answer the Secret Question. And I was told I needed to try again tomorrow after 9:01 P.M., PST. Because the Secret Question has been locked.

Because they believe people who are not me

Have been using

MY EMAIL.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

I’m rather livid and worried and scared right now, so…

 

Have I Lost All My Readers?

I like having my good friend Blackrain comment (we WILL talk again one night, I promise you!), and Martin as well (we shall… ahem… “talk”… again as well 🙂 ). But have I lost all my other readers? Alucard? Greggory? Anyone??

Am I alone again?

I am sad and lonely.

Anne

I Just Can’t See Any Hope For My Future

right now, I am so down right now. When Rudy dies, there goes half my income. There goes the house, too- we’re only barely able to pay for it. And we got hosed when we bought it too- the inspector who passed the house should be shot. The main supports are riddled with carpenter ants, the floors are sagging away from the beams, the electrical system should have been replaced back in **1979** and we still have it in the house, ready to short out, burn down the house and kill us. Our oldest is going to be 18 next year and when that happens, if he moves out, then WHAMMO there goes $600 off our income. Right now, if we foolishly spend $100 we don’t get to buy food for a month. What the hell am I going to do?

And my computer, right now, is probably the best one I will ever have from this point on and I was so lucky that an online friend mailed it to me when he upgraded his own system. It’s really good, but it’s also now on the lower end of good and soon won’t be able to play anything. And who can afford the new consoles coming out?

I’m 50 years old and I just can’t see any hope for myself in the years to come. I depend on my parents for help and my dad is 80, my mother in her 70’s.

On the other hand, less depressingly, I have a ton of short stories I just need to write up and post. I’ve been writing them and reading them to Rudy as, yes, I still do this, I masturbate in my chair while he watches and listens. He’s been really good at this- sometimes he really gets into it, sometimes he can’t even think of sex. He’s also my voice of reality in the stories- he says “If the snakes eat 200 women every day, Rome wouldn’t last for even a year.”

He’s right, which is why I have been building up to a storyline thing here, where the upper people in Rome have been watching this, wondering where all the women are coming from that the serpents are eating, because the new private sector coliseum usually has up to 2,000 women per DAY being swallowed by serpents, and the two government funded facilities have about 2,000 women per DAY being swallowed, and where are the women coming from?? Immigration and the birth rate don’t cover any of this, not at all… and yet the streets are still packed, half the populace is women, and the city of Rome is growing…

Ah well. I am going to try and write 1,000 to 2,000 words per day on a serious, non-vore work and see what I can do with it for real. We need money, and I KNOW I can write, I just have to stoke that fire in my belly.

Anne “I am so fucking depressed” Van Snakelover