!!RlwOU2oUqOU 12/30/09(Wed)11:46 No.7347320|
You turn around sharply, walking back toward the burrows.
You rip leaves off of different plants as you go, cutting them between your nails.
You arrive back at the burrows, cloth mounds, blooded.
You see the beauties you devoured, and noticing against the earth a somewhat loose breast you had missed.
With your leaf-smeared hand you press the breast in your palm, wrapping your index, middle, and thumb behind to sever the remaining tissue with your nails.
There are cloth humps around by the mounds, you rest with your feet on one, your head partially cupped inside the female's chest, staring toward the south.
You consume the breast slowly, reaching into your mouth sometimes to pull out a blond hair or two.
The sun is a further one twelfth across the sky toward dusk.