The weather here in Oregon has been rather intense, with heavy snow and powerful winds with temperatures in the single digits. I was on my way home from a shopping trip at a newer little Mennonite store that was opened here in town. I love it there for all of the bulk, raw, whole foods I can get to work with. No processed pesto here! The snow was driving thickly to the ground, and through it I glimpsed some blinking hazard lights from a disabled vehicle. I pulled over to see what the situation was, and was pleasantly surprised to see a thick-thighed beauty pop out of the car waiving. She was wearing these nice, soft leggings that outlined her hips just beautifully, with a smaller waist and bountiful breasts. I opened my passenger door and waived her in.
She sat down and curled up against the shivers racking her body. “Oh thank you! I thought no one would stop. It’s so cold, my car died almost an hour ago, and my cell is still in the shop, so I couldn’t call for help!”
“My goodness! I’m so sorry to hear that! Do you have all of your purse and identification with you? My place isn’t too terribly far away, I’ll take you there and get you warmed up with something hot to drink, and get you a phone so we can get your vehicle taken care of. Do you need to call your mom or anything?” I asked the slightly blue-faced girl.
“No, mom died last year, and I never knew dad. It’s just me.” She said, her teeth still chattering.
I smiled inwardly, no attachments. Even better!
Once I got her inside and sat down, I called Rick downstairs. He smiled graciously at our guest, and asked, “Langley, darling! I had no idea we were having a guest for dinner!?”
“I found her out in the snow all alone. Her vehicle was stranded, the poor dear is all alone in the world, and was nearly half frozen!” I replied as I handed her a cup of steaming hot chocolate.
“Oh my dear young lady! You sip that heat into you and we’ll get you warmed all up. Then we’ll see what to do with you.”
Before she could reply, her eyes were drooping, the “special ingredient” I added was working already. Easy with a chilled, dehydrated body to begin with.
“It’s not often that we have meat that is both frozen, and fresh!” I joked with Rick, getting a warm smile and a chuckle in return.
Once she was thoroughly cleaned inside and out, and shaved nice and smooth, we began rubbing her down with fine coconut oil. I wanted to try some new flavors for the coming up Christmas holiday, so I ground cloves with my ginger root and some allspice, and tossed it with pineapple chunks. I used this to stuff her young, smooth cunt, and her very nicely cleaned little asshole, followed by a wild rice blend I came up with. Then sewed her tightly shut.
I also cut tiny slits, deep and sideays into the thicker parts of her tits, stomach, and thighs, adding a few whole cloves to add to her aroma. I filled her stomach with the same stuffing mix as in her other end, plus some apples. I have a very soft spot for apple stuffing when it comes to the wilder, richer meats.
Together we tied her to the specialized spit, securing her legs slightly apart, her hands and arms were carefully bound with baking twine, and her head fastened to the headrest we had made, so no part of her would wiggle. It’s important for the girl meat to stay exactly where we put it! She began to stir a little bit, whimpering and crying with the sensations of all her holes being full and sewed shut. She tried to cry, beg, to scream. But a throat full of stuffing, and a sewn-shut mouth didn’t allow for words. As hard as she tried to open her lips, she only managed to pull and tug her sutures, making them bleed a little.
Rick lit the fire, and we curled up in our chairs in front of the fire pit to watch her roast. We took turns every so often turning her over and over a few times, so we got a nice, even roast. She cried and sobbed for nearly an hour over the low heat, before her blood finally thickened and boiled within her, making her shut down. around 6 hours in, after the side dishes were prepared, she was done. Her internal temp had reached around 170 degrees, and deep splits were showing on all sides. With the repetitive basting and seasoning while she was roasting, her skin had developed a beautiful dark golden brown finish, and she smelled so beautiful and fragrant!
We served her with a nice festive salad, fresh whole grain bread, and cranberry sauce.
“Happy holidays, Rick. Here’s cheers to many more satisfying shopping trips, and beautiful meals together!’
He smiled, “Happy holidays, Langley. We make a great team! Cheers!”
Cold duck was such a perfect, bubbly drink to wash our holiday roasted long pig down with.
What are your taboo phone sex fantasies? I consider myself a sick therapist of sorts. I help men explore their dark desires. The ones that could get them arrested or committed to an insane asylum; maybe even killed. The holidays are lonely times for losers. You will not get a sympathetic ear if you call me crying about nobody loving you or whining about how awful your life turned out. I will, however, be likely to encourage you to off yourself or at the very least let me kill you. The holidays fill you with sadness, but they fill me with murderous rage. I am easily pissed off as it is, but you add crowds, holiday cheer and shopping to the mix and I want to get a semi automatic gun and unleash on a mall full of self absorbed assholes. Instead, I take my rage out on you. The pathetic loser who calls me baby or asks me what I am wearing in a futile attempt to bond. I don’t bond. I kill. I can smell fear and desperation through the phone. It gives me a girl hard on because I like to fuck up losers who think I give a crap about them. I don’t have a lonely hearts phone sex line. I have a snuff sex line. It is very therapeutic to kill you. I bet it would be therapeutic for you to die too. I clearly need to kill and maim more, because I flew in a rage over one of those annoying Salvation Army dudes ringing his damn bell. I kicked him in the balls and shoved his bell up his ass while a crowd gathered by and watched. Why? Because the sight of one of those mother fuckers is just a reminder that it’s fucking Christmas. I hate Christmas. Want to find some little soul or annoying twat waffle and spread fear instead of cheer with me?
