Exothermic Oxidation

Hi, listen, why don't you just have a seat and, no really just sit down, stay calm. What I have to tell you is quite upsetting for you, ha ha. See, last night I took your girl, or maybe it was your wife, into my mouth like she was a communion wafer handed out by a smiling, beguiding pope to an honest sinner. Her body is bread, cleansed my sins in a sweet recent feast that will never ever cease to amaze me. I ate her for hours listening to her cries for help. Swallowed, tasted, enjoyed, digested, and then shat back on the blankets . . . . Did she tell you? Did she speak of this? Her terror for once enjoying herself? Did she describe the beautiful screams, the scratching, the touching, the pulling, the sucking? Did she tell you I buried my fingers in her deep enough to cause pregnancy? Did she explain the rhythm, mmm, the pulse, the gathering climax? Did she pretend not to care but you could see it in her eyes? Did she giggle a little about being cannibalized? Did she tell you that? Did she? No? Ha. Well she smelled like fresh melon and ocean air, I could tell you that.