Emma Cadbury's Voracious Husband by Mark Lee Pearson
Read by Hannah Mercer
Emma Cadbury woke up to discover that her entire body had turned into a medium class blend of milk chocolate. If that wasn't troubling enough - she had always preferred her chocolate to be expensively Fair Trade rather than cheaply mass produced - it was a hot midsummer night and the stuff had already begun to melt and stick to the sheets.
She turned over and disregarded the absurdity, trusting the dream would dissolve with the rising sun. It was still dark, there was still time, and so she set herself adrift in the safe waters of slumber.
Just when she had abandoned all thought of the predicament - sailing free on a powerful ocean, a dolphin at her side sleeking, cutting, severing the water with her dorsal fin - through the foggy clouds of sleep something odd was looming on the horizon.
She had a sense of turtles, their shells tickling, touching her keel, scraping and threatening her balance, caressing and nibbling at her toes.
She attempted to pull away from him, but the velvety sweet feel of his tongue as he followed the contour of her leg upwards soon had her licking her own lips in anticipation. It had been a long time since her husband had nudged her awake in the early hours of the morning. And sex with Max, her current lover, had never been anything more than a pleasant way to wrap up Thursday night's square dancing class.
"Oh, Reg."
"Mmmph … mmmph … Bunny … oh …"
The sound of his lips smick, smack, smacking, schlick schlock, schlacking voraciously between her legs gave a healthy and long overdue tremor to the depths of her femininity.
"OUCH!"
Emma opened her eyes wide with surprise. Something had snapped inside her. The bastard had bitten her. Taking hold of his head between her hands, she looked into his rapacious eyes.
"Stop it! I say - oh …"
But her husband pacified her, teasing her legs apart by running his tongue up the inside of her thigh and nibbling greedily on her secret chocolate button. Her eyelids folded down again as a tremor, measurable on the Richter scale, shuddered through her.
And then she opened them again with startled realization.
Emma yanked at her husband's hair. To her horror, his face was smeared with chocolate sauce.
"Get off me, you beast!"
She rolled aside, overcome with the sudden shock that her loving Reg had already consumed the entire bottom half of her left leg up to the calf and had made a good start on her inner thigh.
Her husband took the opportunity to draw her back into his grasp, fell on top of her, drooling and began to chew off her nipples . She was overcome with the strange confusion that it felt rather sexy. As he nibbled at her breast he whispered,
"Oh, my darling, let me consume you in your entirety."
Alarmed, her first instinct was to fight. Fight for her life. But his appetite was the all-consuming aspect of his spirit, and by the time the rumpus died down, the entire bed was splattered with a dark chocolaty goo.
He came at her again. Panicked, she thrashed and bucked until she found the strength to push him off. She threw what was left of her right leg over the side of the bed and it snapped clean from her hip, chocolate sauce seeping onto the floor.
Her husband clambered across the bed and slid onto the floor beside her. She made a grab for her leg, but she wasn't quick enough. He snatched it up, and she watched as he sat, a wretched chimp in a dilapidated zoo, gobbling, gobbling, gobbling up the chocolate.
She lay on the floor, breathing heavily. An oppressive cloud of defeat threatened to rain upon her. The room was suffocating, stifling hot; she imagined herself melting to death before her husband managed to consume her entire body. A pale brown bead of sweat dribbled down her face and onto her chin. She wiped it up with the back of her hand and swallowed it.
God! It did taste good. Before long she found herself biting the ends off her fingers and sucking on the chocolate sauce while her husband was engaged in eating her leg.
Then it hit her.
It was so simple. Why hadn't she thought of it before?
A vision of their honeymoon in the Swiss Alps; skiing, followed by a deluxe chocolate fondue, leading to a night of unsurpassed passion. She remembered how they had carried the bubbling chocolate to their honeymoon suite and made love with uninhibited sensuality, licking and lapping the sauce from each other's bodies.
Such an erotic feeling as she had filled her mouth with the finest chocolate in the world, hot and molten – and how he had enjoyed the taste of it mingled with her juices. And how she had given him what he had termed the perfect passion.
It had been a long time.
"Darling…"
Mrs. Cadbury's voracious husband looked up from his feast, his eyes ravenous.
"Yes?"
"Let's do the perfect passion, one last time."
A moment of calm crossed his face. He threw her leg aside and grinned with wild expectation. He drew her towards him and kissed her deeply, resisting the urge to bite off her tongue. He could do that later.
He lifted her melting torso onto the muddy bed and laid her in a comfortable position before lying down on his back himself. Her long elegant fingers reached down between her legs and dug out a dollop of creamy milk chocolate, which she began to spread thickly and evenly over his penis until it was totally smothered. She then sucked and lapped and licked, relishing the sweet, creamy taste in her mouth. And when it was gone, she slapped on another helping of chocolate.
Shlopp, shlopp, shlopp.
For sure it wasn't Fair Trade, but it was the last chocolate she would ever eat and she was sharing it with the first man she had ever given herself to.
He came, too soon as always, but it was all right. He would fall asleep and wouldn't wake up for hours. She could now begin the slow, painful, yet extremely orgasmic, and orgasmically final, experience of eating herself to death.
--
Emma Cadbury's Voracious Husband by Mark L. Pearson was read by Hannah Mercer at the Liars' League Sex & Death event on Tuesday 10 July 2007.
In previous lives, Mark Pearson was a punk, a DJ, a record producer, a toolmaker, a bookshop assistant, a philosopher, a translator and thief. In this life he is a teacher of English in Japan. He is married with one daughter and another on the way. He loves to tell tall tales.
Hannah Mercer trained at the Oxford School of Drama. Theatre credits include Julia in Two Gentlemen of Verona(Oxford Shakespeare Company), Joan in Sexual Perversity in Chicago (Battersea Arts Centre) and Biddy in Great Expectations (Brockley Jack Theatre). She has also worked on many films and voiceovers and as a roleplayer.
