The Lost Kiss

 

          Damn, she was beautiful! So very beautiful, and wonderfully magical with it! Highbrow snooty, sexy distant smile, remarkable of intelligence, wit and wisdom, and she was all that a woman had to be! The perfected epitome of a perfect woman in every single way, as far as he was concerned. Oooh yesss…that good!!!! Especially in silence, for now, as she eschewed the flashing scenery- almost a euphemism for her and his miserable life!

Miserable?  

He was beyond miserable.

Sad!

Empty!

Missing the passion of his beloved and new food and ruing a life devoid of the exciting stimulation of both. Everything was so very sanitised at home what with her gone off him for ages.

It was even more sanitised at work what with the Health Ministry and plutocrats, thumb twiddling jobs-worths and interfering gits without an ounce of the understanding of real life as it pertained to the taxpayers because their living was at taxpayer expense, meddling with and passing off laws that had no substance, but ultimately designed to curtail wealth generation. Heavily blinded by their real-life experience being zero, buoyed by the boys’ club access to free living, they were passing decree after decree that hindered or limited the production and enjoyment of good food! All around, every and all the exceptional restaurants were closing down, citing high utility and energy costs, high business rates, high rents, as those in control consolidated their power and squeezed tight, almost preferring their properties empty, unused, and every food entrepreneur, all restaurateurs, any dreamer, all lived in fear of an Administration that was pretty much gung-ho and fucking clueless, sending everyone to the unemployment queue, which translated as more costs for the Admin!

          And worse,  more cause for internal strife that fanned the anger ions around his static marriage, the fundamentalists of every hue, Sunni, Shia, Christian-Orthodox, Catholic, Protestant, Seventh Day, Pentecostals, then the Niggas, Whiteys, Jews, Hamas, Hezbollah, Arabs, Buddhist, Hindu, atheists, Pakis, Moslems and every other one was matching each other bomb for bomb, bullet for bullet, decapitation for decapitation! Every single one was crazy enough to believe their way was the only way to achieve a Higher Spirituality sat at The Big Table, in The Big House, up there in The Big Sky, with angels and innumerable virgins of every hue. Racists and supremacists sacrificing their lives so they’d get to fuck some virgin from another race as the definitive move to get access to God. Wow, what learning! All the holy rhetoric as in the big books, Allah the Merciful, God Forgives, and all that counted for nothing as another sought to destroy another so that they then maybe found favour in the eyes of God. For sure God had decreed unto them, slaughter everyone who is not as you, so that they are into damnation, and away from Me! The same God that decreed He was most Merciful! The same God who was creator of all! The same God who decreed, come to Me, ooh My children… Fishers of men…the same God that sent and witnessed His Prophets sacrificed as they worked their hardest to bring all to God. The same God Who was called upon in prayer meetings in the highest houses of power and in the greatest houses of prayer. To say God was confused and contradictory in His love for those He created in His image. Then maybe the atheists had a reason to go medieval mental on everyone else because they had fuck-all to believe in as all others were playing the hypocrisy game!

          Only that it was fact as soon as atheist women as much as all others hit orgasm, they all screamed...Oh God, oh...Oh God!!! And the men-all men, shit and screamed, Oh God....ooooh God.... when they took a bullet to the throat and it was terminal! The whole fucking place was a mess, barely literate thugs and bandits calling on the righteousness of the holy books by twisting words and text to satisfy their bloodlust, going back at least three thousand years to date! Some fiddled with their parishioners then sanctioned wars against other races and it was all good as they looked out for each other! In the spirit of such, every one that thought highly of themselves had something to say, such as the privileged lunatic, an otherwise A-plus bloke with great credentials but with limited experiences as he lived a cushy life that said, ‘you wanna be careful of one of those things where you wish for something that sounds good, but if you get it, it’s actually a dystopian situation. A hypothesis like if you wish for world peace; sounds good! But how is it enforced? At what cost eternal peace? It might actually be worse to have eternal peace because of what that would entail! The suppression of everyone, it might be the suppression of progress, it might be an ossified society that never changes; what I’m saying is that there is an argument if you wish for no war, you should be careful what you wish for, because what’s required in order for that to be normal might be worse than a little war!’ Followed by commentary-no conflict, no progress; humanity thrives on overcoming challenges, not eliminating them…! Now you tell that to a holocaust victim! Tell that to a Palestinian mother just lost her whole family to unnecessary war.  Tell that to a family ravaged by ethnic cleansing moves by a cold hearted player! Could only be a human sentiment, weak, self-serving and myopic in its outlay, an imagined theory loosely bound in lunacy that was righteously unctuous to the war machine! Maybe that was his reasoning as he manoeuvred to find justification in getting involved in wars that fucked up those that were different to him and his buddies! Don’t know…but…  we’ll never know! Well, the commentator had never lived away from Earth, had he? Never seen life such as advanced intelligence that worked for all facilitated. And he worried and wondered, how the hell he was supposed to negotiate a crumbling marriage and, live his life in a peaceful fashion amongst all these, who all seemed to have beef with him and everyone else, regardless he had no beef with any of them! Eternal peace would mean the farmers did not fuck about with genetically modified food that killed us all with the many strains of cancer. Peace would mean the food producers would stop with ultra processed food that killed all! Peace would mean focussing resources on Medicare and infrastructure. Peace would mean diverting money to treating cancer, finding a cure for Alzheimer’s, Dementia, motor neurone disease, cutting out the gene deformities that gave rise to Autism. Peace would mean the Admin did not waste, squander and embezzle funds in unnecessary bureaucracy in the function of government, and it would be so much easier to find solutions to global warming, such as using the sun and hydrogen for energy! Peace would mean not losing loved ones to hatred and violence, instead more time and opportunities for great sex, tighter communities, proper education, and exploration to the bottom of the seas and to other planets would be the outcome. If Formula 1 could harness braking energy into propulsion power, imagine the endless possibilities a less stressed-out scientific world could achieve! Road surface technology, tunnels through the oceans linking the continents, the advancement of teleportation to wherever, the manufacture of efficient transport modules, and more! And all at cost effective pricing. War, no matter how little, was never necessary, and for sure, always a drain on the economy; everyone knows this! A lot of people wanted to live their lives peacefully, but the hot-minded ones made sure there was no peace as the missiles, bullets and bombs let rip! Every new missile, every new bullet, bigger and more potent than the last, a lot more destructive, so that it was boys playing look at my dick, bigger than yours, more deadly than yours, and still, could not for real fuck a woman real good till she farted in glory as there were no women about for this kind of monster! And if there were, goodness! Mother of life gone absent? Why did these have a need to interfere with peace loving folk? They were making it obvious to all they were no more than bandits, hoodlums, and they did not give a rat’s poop what you thought as they cloaked it in religion, righteousness and self-preservation! The houses of prayer were all out of bounds because it was guaranteed, wherever you were, be it Mississippi, Marseille, London, Santiago, Atlantic City, Gaza, Lahore, Papua New Guinea, Jerusalem, Damacus, Gaza, Mumbai or Johannesburg, some crazy fucker would be exploding a bomb right up your arse as you knelt in prayer. The chap forgot you were in communion with God, so in effect he was interfering with the Higher High, thus, declaring himself an enemy of the Higher High, even as he believed he was God’s anointed, and curiously, no different to you! Question was, what do you do with people like such as embroiled in hatred as they are?

          Then he also worried and wondered why the fuck he'd had to emigrate to this shitty-arse planet that was so backward, full of so much hate, anger and destruction regardless it was brimming with so much potential and amazingly beautiful beyond imagination! Running away from persecution on account of striving for food and equal rights for all, only to end up in this human-oidish shit-hole and life was surely one massive shit-trip into a massive shit-pan! Humans and the humanoid hybrids were completely messing up his life!

          A consequence of the static home life vis a vis the disaffected wife spilled over as he obsessed on food, worried, lamented, bitched and ranted! Corruption was endemic all over as everyone sought to raise their survival capital to ensure their protection in the long term. Thus, Real Food producers were taxed to the hilt to minimise their activities, abilities and skills, whilst the conglomerates that bastardised food that was cheap as shit and undeniably now carcinogenic ruled the land, bought and bribed governments, and operated almost tax free. That pissed him off and others no end, and it was bad to observe the prevailing ambivalence all around! Sickening!! Astonishingly, the food was grown on radioactive land full of bomb and missile effluence and people still bought it, knowingly, dismissively quipping, we all got to die someday! Of course, the idiots were dying out soonish, and good riddance too; long life was the preserve of the discerning, those that sold you the shit full of radioactive effluence.

If you grew food in an allotment that was free from contamination, you got taxed to the highs till you wept blood. Many like him had resorted to clandestine, underground farming operations that worked openly like a gangster cartel, violent against any Admin interference, worse than a Mexican Sicario outfit, to feed their business; all made possible by the great power of bribes, just because everyone was so very desperate and hungry! It had got to the point landlords, landowners, bankers and many more were having sleepless nights on account of middle of the night visits from strangers with a certain demand. The police were powerless if not part of the deal! Everyone trying their best to make a good life possible without getting screwed by the powerholders!

          Of all people, it was Marianne that had got him in with the underground farming cartel. See, she was brainy and believed in absolute solutions to every problem. The more extreme the problem, she’d triple the intensity of the solution, so that the problem never had a chance to breathe anew in any shape or form in any lifetime. This was the kind of person he was dealing with, as she figured he was not good enough for her, and you can understand his terror, his weakening stance as he tried to stand by her, hallucinatory in the belief he could make it work, swing her back! Half a mind on her, half on food, he turned to her, hoping for some sort of communication, got nothing like as if he did not exist, and he went back to thinking about food. Far safer….

He believed in food, honest, good, wholesome food; lived for the food, adored food, the production from scratch to table! Ooooh the food! Memories...great memories...The smells, the subtle and violent attacks and assaults on the senses, the 'feel', the intoxication of passion...and more. The emotions that overtook him and others as they drowned in the vibrant positive energy that rendered whole families and communities serene as they sat down to a simple, pure, clean meal, drooling as fuck in anticipation of the guaranteed deliciousness, the buoyancy of emotions, the shared goodwill then and in the long term, oooohhhhh!!!! Then the feel and aroma of a woman’s conquered passions as she partook of a wonderful, clean meal…her fluttery eyes, her flaring nostrils working overtime in excitement, her grateful, seductive smile-slow, cool and knowing, appreciating, thanking you mightily, the percolation of her perspiration as she decided a lot of nice things in your favour post the meal. The atmosphere…the positivity…!

          He loved the sexy banter in the kitchens, the titillation at procurement and the sensual massages in the prep and cooking of food! Plating Technique and Skills he wasn't worried about, neither gave a rat’s arse. He was more about and sought to extract, imbue, sexualise, intensify, make subtle, seek, create, mix and match, stroke, frig and explode flavours within pure, natural food! He wanted his punters orgasmic every single time they tasted a morsel from his kitchen! Too many chefs and cooks were all about I can do this and that, and true, they were fucking genius with a lab set that deconstructed and de-textured the true nature of food! But real natural flavours? Spices? Seasoning? Sensual and emotional massage? True cooking from the bottom of the belly, red-hot poker sensual massage by natural flavours enhanced by love and seasoning?? Forget the manipulation of ions, forget the fool-proof hours of water baths(worry about the plastic ions forced into the food thus!), forget the sarcastic, malicious and envious put-downs, forget the cocaine fuelled precision junkets, nothing to do with the speed laced production....we are talking natural food taste and flavours sooo good he got a boner every single time!!!! Not many knew what natural food tasted or looked like anymore, and so they fucked about a lot with shit, molecular structures, Jus this, jus that, and everyone bland, sour, highly concentrated, neither here nor there, nothing to punch your lights out in subtle ecstasy! See the fucking runts just come out of college and twenty-year experienced cooks all cook you a pound of carrots in ten litres of water and then bitch the carrots are shite! The fucking punters knew not the fucking difference either. No idea the carrots are full of their own essence of the gods and so need just a little liquid to get them sexy. And if they had nice carrot juice, they binned it, no concept of flavours, stock, reduction, glaze, suspension, emulsion, rechauffe, intensity! Some other fucker cooked carrots in orange juice! Seriously? Whatever the fuck for? Call that flavour? Enhance? Really? Orange juice full of chemicals and shite, an acid fest so rough it killed the carrot on sight, and instantly slaughtered and pulverised your taste buds and the lump of shitty meat in your mouth all in one to an orgy of bland death! The meats from an orange-juice carrot specialist were definitely a slab of detritus on the plate without excitement, having lost the will to be anything if they were to accompany said carrots, cooked by an egotistic, clueless, angry shithead on stressy hormones. The vegetables by said such were definitely cooked in gallons of water without seasoning, no passion, no intelligence, no sexy. Not even an emulsion...don't even get him started on emulsions. What? Oily, buttery shit without flavours! Or an over-boiled, over-reduced, over salted chaud-font! No herbs, no spices, no nothing, no aromatis, nothing divine! Pork or duck cooked in fat without anything to carry it off...just the plain bland fat, really...fat from an angry goose, angry pig and the rest! Give me strength! Angry chefs with self-gratifying, poor masturbatory skills cooking angry, "stylish, modern" food, confused as fuck, zero on intelligent execution: an inflated ego that was worth zero! He did not eat their food. Because they were illiterate! Nothing like an illiterate fucker trying at being smart! Goodness! Never ate in any restaurant staffed with angry, shouty chefs, who more than likely attracted the critics and the fucking exploding belt wearers in one. No no no no! He instead preferred to eat with the grandmas, village housewives, old men and young lads in the bush and in their homes as they showed off and shared a family recipe handed down generations with care, love and consideration. A recipe recreated with passion, calm, excitement, sexual fervour, all great traits missing from many "great kitchens" and "great minds" that run the fucking show! A drug addled mind or an alcohol infused tongue, or an ego rendered heart had no concept of palate and the rest! An anger and angst suffused spirit would never feed the gods, and Marianne made it a point to never accompany him to such places. After so many rejections and refusals, it made sense to agree with her! Especially as some of those kitchens had the kids working for free, from seven am to midnight, six days a week. Because, they said, our name on your CV, as a reference stands you in good stead for the future.  Come the future, the boss man was swanning about in three Ferraris, had five great homes all over the world, drove all three Ferraris at the same time and slept in all the five houses at the same time! Work in the associated costs, and the boss was a conman, because the future as it was right now, had the bossman and all his buddies closing down on account of unrealistic costs! So where would the great name on your CV stand you good? Marianne gave him earache to this end! Relentless…

          From day one Marianne had pushed him for a cooler, quieter kitchen, commenting, just because you shout and holler does not mean the food cooks faster and better. You terrify the staff, their thoughts and that sexy dance in a well-oiled kitchen is fucked! Chill, save it for tonight, and then give it all to me tonight; eh chef?  What motivation. He cooked with a hard dick, a cool mind, intensified concentration, and it was good! Later on in the night as she walked into the bathroom and he was sat on the toilet going over the day in his mind, pleased, she’d said, ‘Good night, eh? See…calm mind, cool kitchen, happy atmosphere…and you get lucky tonight!’  He’d joined her in the shower, she’d teased him as she kissed him hot, tweaked his nipples, grabbed at his cock and tugged it deadly, smiling seductively, her eyes full of promise…and bid him patient! ‘Take your time, wash off the food smells as I blow dry my hair, then come. I am looking forward to all that hot chef energy!’

          Five minutes later he rushed into the bedroom, hoping to prepare well for her and he found her snoring on the bed, with the towel wrapped around her wet hair! Something rotten-all that unspent chef energy!!-welled and surged from deep inside him, and he exploded, ‘what the fuck?’

          ‘Sorry!’ She startled awake. Unravelling the towel, almost sheepish… ‘See you in a minute. I’ll be back… promise!’ She went to the kitchen to dry her hair, was gone half an hour, and he was sure he heard the telly going, but could not bring himself to go downstairs, unwilling to show eagerness. There’s only so much keenness most women can handle, and by the time she came back, his balls were nearly bursting. She got into bed, siddled close, her nose on his chest, murmuring sexy noises ashshe breathed him in deeply, looked him square in the eye with the horny slant, then at the cock, licked her lips dangerously and he watched that tongue riddle his soul in between biting her lip in that definite way you know it’s going down tonight(!), then smiled sweet like honey and said, ‘looks like he wants to play,’ in that melodious and sweetly heart rendering voice. He’d grunted his response, not trusting himself to speak. He was dying here, desperate, a powder keg with a lit fuse. She smiled, grabbed the beast, kissed the head, and very unaffected, said, ‘Goodnight. See you in the morning,’ as she slid underneath the covers.

          His breath had caught. He looked at her. She barely glimpsed at him as she turned over, and she could not hide the smile that faintly teased her lips and eyes! He shook her by the shoulder, ‘Marianne…we’ve got to fuck! Been dying for you all day! You promised.’ He could not pretend anymore. There was no greater fuck, no better lover. She was good, she had really good game; she fucked back! He needed it off her… badly! And he figured all those sensitive woke fucks out there would give him hell for daring have expectations of conjugal bliss in a marriage! You fight for what you believe in. Most of those runts fought for a reality that was non-existent, and had no way of ever stringing itself into reality! This was reality, mind-fuck in a marriage. Communication in a marriage. Ups and downs in a marriage. Dialogue, sometimes unsavoury, but necessary, in a marriage! Occassinally, a fight, in a marriage. Fight for what you believe in! A promise is a debt! Integrity in your words in marriage....damn!!!  

          ‘Eeeeh! I’m not in the mood now. Let’s see maybe in the morning before we get in to work? Promise I’ll make it up to you.’ Sweetly said, but the steely eyes settled on his fingers gripping her shoulder, and when they made it to his eyes, the fire therein had him pull back, shocked. What the fuck?  

          Astounded, he’d gone downstairs and lost his head in a movie. Damn…she’d promised earlier, and these early morning things were always rushed, and his knees were then khybered for the day. He always had a heavy chest after a morning session, similar feeling like as after a good, heavy cry! Cooking all day feeling like that always killed his mojo! But in truth, yes, it had been a good night, and the simple fact was calm and patience were essential to make for a clear, focussed, determined precise food production. However, everyone ate all this other crud and lauded it too; watch the "critics" talk shit about bland shit, steroid-laden hybrid beef, school-boy chums on a fucking chummy-carnival ride, high on shit! Meat from mentally stressed, muscly animals fed shite all their lives, the fruit and veg drenched in carcinogenic pesticides and manure full of mercury and phosphates, sprayed full of silicone for the high shine! Yeah right...fucking great food! For the maggots! Want to know what phosphates taste like? Ask a kid in Gaza who's had a phosphorus burn from a fucking phosphorus cluster bomb cook the shit out of him! Strewth! And because of this he stressed! Big time! He’d fallen asleep deep in the belly of angst, stewing in rejection and disappointment effluence, and his dream demons were angry!

          Come morning, she was nowhere to be seen. She’d left him to sleep on on the sofa till nine am, whence she sent a waitress to wake him up! He woke up angry, stressed out he was late, stressed she had not woken him up on time, had not kept her promise and had sneaked out.  He stressed his boner was not deflating as his heart ached for her, constantly replaying in mind as he would have done to her, as she would have done to him! The tension within him intensified as he now held it against her especially as her perfume and sexy body smell haunted him, his tongue tingled as his memory wickedly gifted him the feel of her delicious body as his kisses ravaged her, right by the belly button, her soft and heightened breathing stoked full of lust, decadent aromas, the curve of her hot butt as he held them snug in his hand, caressing, the tight belly and womb, her delicate waist as she undulated her hips to feed her soft, moist quim on to his exploring finger as it sunk deep into the wet folds of pleasure and he looked on in wonder as the finger trembled of its own accord, figuring maybe she was doing him one as she messed him up deliberately, no longer vested in obliging his wishes as her mind was already leaving the relationship! Sure sign, no? He’d stuck the quivering finger into his mouth and sucked and licked voraciously, his mind playing tricks on him, sure he could taste her magick! He showed up stressy like a bear with a sore head, and there was that smile again! She kept her distance and communication professional all day. When others went for their afternoon break, she very quietly approached him and casually asked, ‘did you like my taste on your fingers this morning?’ He’d astounded, looked at her with all these emotions welling up and flying by, mute, and eventually held up his hands, shook his head and walked out! He came back just before evening service, and was very quiet, preferring to cook and not run the pass! He did not get laid, and he chalked it against her, in red and great fuck off capitals! They’d not spoken about it, ever, and it got logged as one of those things! That was fucked up.

          Phosphates and phosphorous bombs came back to mind as he was driving now, and he drowned further in worry, worrying about where to find and how to harness new flavours, spices, tastes, ease of consistent and quality availability, because all the trade and shipping routes had fallen to the tyranny of supremacist runts of all colours. And now how would he be marrying the seasons and the weather to food, food that was guaranteed to cheer up a miserable woman just found out the husband was 'tired' of loving her? Food sooooo goood it cheered up a man so down on his luck as the judicial system took him to the cleaners just because his wife had had enough of him, even as the sitting attorney, married with kids, was a renowned swinger and dogger, and was not averse to barely legal conquests. He worried about the pure food, natural food as good as when he was a child with simple, clear memories; oooohhhhh, lush bread and herbs from beautiful women's hands, women that cared and nurtured, women with deep feeling, so deep that the universe had no comprehension but still rolled in the sweetness of their goodness as they strove to produce good, simple food without additives, no chemicals, no bullshit, no manipulation of the genetic strand! He craved the old, simple pure taste of beef as when the cows fed on grass and grass alone! With a little salt water or a salt lick thrown in for the pleasure of the cows! Cows with milk so pure, aromatic, thick, intense and just right, naturally flavoured of the grass! The sheep and goats with no steroid or hormone injections would be in on the salt licking too, and they reeked to the highs of a simple purity! Tender as fuck! Flavoured of the marshes or milk, or corn or acorns or even sweet barley!!!! Somewhere in there, the chickens, ducks and geese would have been clucking for all their worth as after a corn-fest, they chased the termites, spiders and roaches right into the salt drenched grass! It had been fun, growing up eating what one had reared. He remembered with bitter-sweet, tender emotion the glint in his father's eyes at 4am as a razor-sharp, hallowed scimitar that was always hidden came out and strategically sliced open a piglet's throat or a cow’s, if not a goat or a lamb. He shivered as he vividly remembered the look of terror in the animal's eyes as it figured it was "curtains", and it was important to see, feel, absorb and drown in the explosive, vibrant energy as it pulsed out as death! Killing an animal was not fun or games. It was serious business that reaped the nurturing of a creature by taking away its life!! Sensitive! Painful! Very grave! So that the animal's spirit would go on to a better life as it nourished another life! It meant there was honour and integrity as the spilt blood was harvested for breakfast to be mixed with the special mix of seasonings, spices and herbs to make for the special solid, light cubed chunks of blood cake. It celebrated the good life of the animal and the hard work of the farmers and the herdsmen. It lauded the wonderful taste and magical gift of the dead animal and the forests and grasslands it had roamed as it gifted them in the many ways. By ten am it was slow roasted meat making the rounds before the tempting mix for the sausages and meat pudding-hurka and kolba'sz was put to bed! This delicious mix was even more divine raw, but only ever in small quantities. The old folk lost it as the kids double dipped a sweaty, smeary, saliva drenched finger into the wooden cauldron, yelling and cursing, chasing them off to go finish up the cleaning of the tripe blankets and tubes and pipes. Gallons of onion and tomato base as prepared by the women was the vehicle for the tripe...and the garlic...ooohhh, left whole, and it simmered to a pulp! This was early evening food sat around a blazing log fire out in the cold feeling all the good that was good about everything, and the many friends and family come to share in the feast...by late night the fried fat and dripping with polenta/grietz/gritz was the night cap! He relieved the memories of sheep's stomach filled with the curd from the second stomach-tasty as hell raw, sublime, frowned upon mightily, and simply divine when cooked! All day, home-made moonshine, beer, strawberry and orange spirits, vodka and gin, Palinka, Enziene and more would be flowing, discreetly! Friends came loaded with fancy stuff from all over the world! Friends that did not ever understand the seminal relief in the exploding of bombs and bullets in village squares as folk set to a celebration. At some point in the day the younger girls would have come in with kale, cabbage, lentils, yams, cassava, potatoes, lobsters, tilapia, perch, bass, salmon, crayfish...and the fucking food fest would be better than a king's table, on account of the generosity, kindness and open welcome to all, traits most kings were known to be lacking! Kings gorged like fuck till bloated and fat, generously lining their arteries and girth with shit and then had plenty left for the bin. These here shared with all, because that was the whole point, no??? Nothing for the bin, everything consumed and used, shared with all! That’s why the fucking animals and plants died!  Thoughts of sensitive, woke folk blasted his mind as he wondered what they thought of food waste, homelessness, misguided high taxation that led to high unemployment even if in the short term; what did they do about it other than talking for endless hours if that, had they the energy and reality to galvanise action? Their thoughts and focus were on such a narrow bandwidth, their energy and convictions like a flash in a pan, because they never had the balls to rationalise and effect absolute law change! Cancel culture was easy...law change was the dog's danglies. 

          In so many ways Marianne had helped shape his holistic approach to food, insisting to their veg grower, ‘no chemicals, no phosphates and no shit on our veg. We will send you the food and coffee waste, you process it to a fertiliser and use that! And please, pipe in some music, classical music, to the plants and watch them grow before your very eyes. Pipe in bird call in the mornings, just before dawn and live right! Use a disco ball to get in some sunlight down here. The harvest was bountiful! The returns off the punters, similarly!

          The plants! Pipe music to plants and observe their behaviour. Place a high frequency microphone and observe the crazy spikes in plant sound as one nicked or nipped a plant. An uprooted or poisoned plant sent the spikes out of kilter! Walk in the forests, woods or plains, the savannah or lay in a glade, and listen to the plants make their own form of music in the wind, the uniform gentle or wild sway-dance-always perfect and in tandem. Listen to the rustling or whistling of leaves on a cold, dark, windy night and rejoice in the soundtrack. Sacrifice of plants for food was next to holy. The wilful destruction, such as in the jungle or in deforestation was abominable, and nature fucked us back with drought, floods and landslides. Dumb shit! Cook shit vegetables, eat fruit without honour and respect and observe your kids turn to gargoyles, breathing hell on all as low-end gangsters! If one did not eat vegetables, welcome to IBS. If one did not eat fruit, welcome to shitty skin. Avoid fruit and veg, and see your brain power languish way below humanly acceptable…. So? That’s why they have intolerance of those that are different to the rest…and others don’t like you because your brain BO is enough to get you ostracised!

          He trembled in heightened tension as he remembered the prayers for and to the soon to be slaughtered creature.... prayers that somehow made everything taste that much better. If one did not know, well, they just did not, and the magical, sensual essence of a death to grace the table with food was lost on them. Maybe that was why there was so much food wastage, hunger, and starvation. Maybe that was why humans were shitty to one another with subsidies coming into play, and all that fucked up genetically modified shit that was killing off every other person! Maybe that was why cancer was so rife, and everyone was as confused as shit, unwilling and unable to determine and accept that which was killing them was staring them right in the face, laughing a cackle, rough grim reaper shit of a welcome home, homie! Maybe that was why so many angry kids were disillusioned, disenfranchised, and took to machetes, guns and bombs to try right a wrong they had no clue how to address. Maybe they had been forcibly discouraged from free speech by shit-eaters(shit-brained!) as they sought accountability and acceptability! Maybe the raping of their baby sisters and baby brothers, or even their lands by the powers that be had got them all angry now. Maybe those that allowed for ten-and-thirteen-year-old girls to be circumcised and then married off to old men were to blame for all this madness, because the young men now had no access to nubile girls that would soon be their wives as the old men made concubines of children. Maybe the young men had painful memories of the old men fucking them in the arse in school dormitories, dark chapels, and hospitals and no one had ever listened to them and helped them find justice. Maybe seeing as their education(shit!) never opened doors for them meant they were eternally destined to be slaves and shit all their lives drove them to join crazy religious gangs that cared shit for religion. Maybe the mothers had lost all moral authority and sense of being as the weak fathers stayed absent, clueless and indifferent, so that the kids now turned out bandits just like their fathers who had no clue about fuck all because they were fuck-all in every single sense, especially as they starved or gorged as opposed to eating with honour and reverence! So... Memories... Corn on the cob that was harvested and consumed, and some stored and dried to be re-used as seed....same with the beans and plenty more. Banana, sugarcane, guava, peanuts, lentils, potatoes, sweet potatoes, yams, cassava, cabbage, kale, papaya, mango...whatever, you name it, it was all clean and sweet. The insecticide? Ash from the wood stoves. From ashes to ashes never rung truer!

          He had memories of fried flying ants. Baked grasshoppers. All now in serious decline! The new swing to this was chocolate dipped scorpions and cucaracha!! Aiyaiyaiyaiayai!!! Eating live ants was taking away the essence of civilisation as man regressed back to Neanderthal and maybe more clued up to simple, pure food, more like sensationalism and bullshit!! Chefs were really swinging it!!! There was a time when the grasshoppers were as big as strapping ten-year old boys and that was a meal for five for a fair few days! Days of locust plagues had always meant protein bounty! The warehouses would be full! No pesticides, just nets, bags, suffocation, dry them out in the sun and voila!

          Oooh the fish! And that was just from the pond...tilapia, catfish, perch, carp, lobsters, crabs, crayfish, prawns, crocodile.... all there. Once you got to the lake, and this was millennia-years before the flower growers with their pesticides and violence arrived, unemployed village folk, young boys and girls ate like kings-good kings!!! Now the oceans were over-fished, filled with shit, radioactive nastiness, plastic, fridges, trains, metallic crap, old ships and shit that was not bio-degradable, thanks to the governments’ efforts!  And lots and lots and lots of wasted dead fish dumped at sea or by dock side or the lake because of fucking quotas, quotas deliberately ignored to stop another from reaping. So the preference was to wastefully kill fish-a lack of education as to managing fish stocks or deliberate illiteracy making manifest, or maybe it was greed, or maybe no fucker knew shit about shit, so they lived shit! All lakes, seas, oceans were full of chemicals, plastics and cans of shit and genetically mutated plants and fish, and the whole fucking thing was dying, shrinking, unable to support itself, let alone life!!! And true violence and death was visited on the indigenous folk should they make mutterings as per the 'death of the lake!' And the river, full of nuclear radiation leaks that poisoned all drinking water and the lake and the sea. Dare you say shit!

          Food, glorious food, now hijacked by the crazy food manufacturers who fed a cow minced dead cow, hoof, spine (mad cowshite!), hide and all, including the diseases! Mentalists that sprayed shit on vegetables and the land just because they wanted everyone out, so they could claim the barren land and use it for food production as they turned it around by use of some genius shit that had food grow from seedling to fruit in half an hour! Crazy, mentally unstable geezers who drenched the land with mercury, salt and acid as they destroyed the rainforest, the jungle and more, just so they could have the gold and minerals. They didn't give a fuck for the truth of life, and surprisingly, the whole world let them get away with it, tolerated and accepted their shit as normal even as they poisoned everyone, and folk forked out a fortune to find healing! The highest level of dumb stupidity! And worse, the betrayal was sanctioned by Admin officials! The people downstream that depended on the water and the jungle had shit for life now, because some crazy geezer thought and imagined he had a higher right to life, and so the natives died out from starvation as again, the rest of the world thought and said fuck all! It was wild out there....no more food, everyone going crazy, and some, mostly many, thinking fuck all about how and what it was they ate, because they were wilfully illiterate, on account of their shitty education! Eating cow fed cows…eating sushi perfected plastic, drinking radio-active water! Was it any wonder the cooking was no different! By a mob that thought it was the shit as it lived in shit-just ask Owen H and J>P! Maybe that was why they romanced weak and contrived, thought shallow and made love like the soulless nourishment that was their staple? Maybe that was why the women they romanced eventually bitched sexual harassment because it was all steeped in illiteracy! He remembered romancing some of these women that ate freezer food/supermarket genetically modified shit and it had been so pallid, fraught with anxiety and rendered with a mental frigidness that was scary and distancing, and compared nothing as to when he was romancing beautifully wholesome women by the sheds up by the garden path, all day, given to a sincerely jovial disposition, dedicated, articulated, sense of passion and occasion. Women who did not think about the shopping whilst in the throes of sweet romance, neither the house chores nor the bank balance because they had commitment and focus on the absolute sweet death of delicious coitus. Liberated women! Women that ate well; none of that sparrow portions malarkey! Cooked amazing, made love truly good with a refined, chic, intelligent passion as they celebrated their awesomeness, joy, beauty, charm and great gift of life! Good food was hard to come by lately...and similarly, good folk! All the good folk were at war, trying to secure food, any food, and his heart sunk in desperation, especially as he figured the so many ways it all contradicted the efforts of chefs who threw away food/produce because it was a day or two old! The fucking world starved, and some runt was mightily brimmed with an oversized ego to bin food that was a day or two in the fridge. Did the fucker stop to think how long the food had been at the suppliers or en route before it got to him? How about the effort to get from seed to table? A fucking miracle of no consequence? Shitheads that had no idea just because their ego was so selfishly born and woven, fabricated even in a deeper arrogant ignorance that was rooted in absolute illiteracy and selfish narcissistic arsloch tendencies that postulated as the supreme mastery of the arts! Suck dick! No wonder the Ministry was interfering.

          His frustration mired and steeped in desperation! Frustration with the cooking, availability, access, what it meant for the future generations and more. The frustrated desperation intensified as he came to terms, reluctantly, with the one sat right here by him and his stomach churned violently.

Oooohhh ye-s-s-s, one damn fine lady! Sweet, smart, sexy, witty, kind, wonderful smile, generous, and in this gentle, gracious, happy way, took care of the life around him and him too in ways, seemingly easing his path in this journey.

Just f**kn super!!!!!

And in all that super wonderful existence, it wasn’t looking good!

His food issues skedaddled!

           It really wasn’t looking good, especially with all "this" super-super goodness, so fake, so that his mind fried itself over and over as he lived in a gripping paranoia, fear and desperation at what was his reality. Chiefly which was she was angry with him in ways even he had no concept of definition, but suffered its wrath without hope as she systematically, slowly and surely shut him out of her life, distancing herself, mentally, emotionally and physically, sending him to hell with crazy terror; and he imagined all sorts of not very complimentary things, things such as maybe she was living a secret life, a life full of passion and crazy lust….because she wasn't living it with him for sure, and she probably was fucking somebody else because she wasn't fucking him! And the new guy she'd be fucking probably didn't have to be a shit-hot amazing go-getter, over-achieving funky geek, no, it probably would be some cool guy that stepped meekly, unsure, with not much by way of worldly issues and that was a whole lot worse than a fully-fledged ambitious, greedy runt that killed every fucker for kicks! She'd slipped away from him and it was obvious she detested his amorous intentions her way…she was not kissing at all anymore…she told him she felt suffocated…stifled was an understatement! Claustrophobic was her favourite word whenever he leant in for a kiss. They did not kiss anymore, both with their own reasons, and both pondered losing the kiss as the absolute indicator they had not much time left together!

He knew she was angry with him in so many ways and for a lot of reasons that she found determined he had not the feel for her as she would have desired, and to complicate it, she was most disappointed his cock-control game was erratic. He himself was not happy with his bed-game, was shamed most times, to be frank; he struggled to control the premature ejaculation issues, or the erectile dysfunction problems and he argued back he was too keen as pussy was too sweet as it was so very rare to come by as opposed to getting her to burst his first nut and …. well…. not his fault! He suggested a longer time at foreplay; she insisted she was ready when she was and wanted cock when she did! All good, but that did not take him into consideration and help him to be a better lover for her. Him being a better lover for her through her help would surely make for a better relationship, no? His earliest memories of her when they first got together when she fucked awkward, stunted, like a body in rigor mortis, without the presence of articulation or involvement, like as if it was some out of body experience made to play in mind, and he commented thus. She ignored it, bitching back, so what? Grow up! Incensed him right into hell she had no tenderness awareness his way as much as she expected it off him without question. Selfish and fed up, she was, was his immediate thought!  He arrogantly suggested she burst his first nut via a blow job, and she gagged, repulsed!  When he tried to play with her pussy lips and tease her clit and possibly get her hot and freaky just like when she was masturbating, she reacted revolted. When he offered to go down on her, regretted it…phew…he struggled! Hygiene….and she was ever so uptight and unwilling to let herself get into it! When they got to it and they were fucking doggy style, she complained it went in too deep.  Missionary style-she complained it wasn’t deep enough. Scissor cut-uncomfortable! When he had her sit on his lap with her legs around his waist he got her squirting, and that was embarrassing. As a result of all these negatives they fucked less and less. Sometimes they fucked with a dry, unresponsive pussy, and it was not far off necrophilia! Sometimes they fucked with a flaccid cock, and it killed him. All this pointed to her now not feeling it for him, and it had been like this a long time. So, whatever went down, he was certain, she was never coming back from it. So, he embraced nostalgia, lived in hope and tried his best to make for an easier ride into Armageddon, especially as he thought of her when she hit the sweet spot years gone. When she was on fire and beautifully wet, she’d always have him fill her with the sturdy cock, hold it in place as she flexed her PC muscles and stroked and massaged him for long, and it would have been a wondrous experience. When they’d eventually get to it, she’d have been breathless, eager same as him, hungry, spinning those hips on the cock pivot that was grinding and drilling even as he slammed it hard into her and release would have been a perfectly natural and well-timed celebratory moment. So very long ago…what were they doing here to each other now? His heart wept…

Right now he was living as the thousands that he saw everywhere, driving around in smart or dodgy cars, terrified of the unpredictable suicide merchants and their demonic streak. In all those cars the woman passenger held her head in her hands, looking out the side window with a very turned neck and clenched jaws, possibly on the look-out for the shadowy guy with a dodgy vest and bulging belts all around lurking somewhere in the bushes hoping for a kamikaze launch onto the freeway. The woman would be stewing in silence, getting horny at the thought of jazzing the young, happy-smiley hot-fuck-bods in other cars, miserable, not speaking to and detesting the fucker sat by them, all fucking angry with each other, planning for a new life without the miserable shithead sat by them. People took each other for granted, people had forgotten the joys of marital conjugals, people were so bored of or now alienated to fucking for pleasure, love and general good being! People forgot why they got together in the first place. The woman detested the fragrant must of the cock and thought it ugly; the man despised the aromatic sweetness of cunt and curled his lips in distaste, instead both preferring the soulless humanoids and fuck-machines and plastic dolls! Folk forgotten how to love, and he was living as such! Same as the fucker on telly talking smut about his neighbours and waging wars and atrocities to defy comprehension, a demented moron who’s eyes were dead and lips so thin because he did not know how to smile, was  devoid of passion, had no time to fuck, because he probably did not know how to unless it was his mother holding his arse and pushing him, guiding him, encouraging him in fucking little boys and girls as he forced their mothers and fathers to watch, before he killed all! 

Oooh Curramba!!!!! His heart beat faster in greater fear, and to try ease the pain he thought of work some more: that miserable enslaving system-shite! In the past it had bound him to a life of routine, predictability and demands by others that crushed his soul at the best of times and always left him morose at the thought of unattainable, long, lovely sunny days spent doing fuck-all endlessly....ooooh glorious....!!! Other times, just because of employment he’d lamented missing out on beautiful, windy, rain-soaked days spent wandering the woods and trails eternally, in his wellies and wax overcoat, with his thoughts, a walking stick, a kinky-horny appreciation of nature, without a worry, without a thought, without feeling his life and all his moves were at the behest of another; a life that had him so tied down, always accountable to some fellow who didn't really give a shit either way other than to make sure the bottom line was always at ninety percent gross profit at worst, and in all that, struggled to pay him a fair, decent living wage commensurate with his experience, knowledge and skill! Granted, all due respect to employers and great kudos for their great work, opportunities and ability, and he appreciated that had to be dictated by time schedules and regimentalisation to make it work! Employment had given him a step up the ladder. In employment he’d gained invaluable knowledge and experience, and great, endless thanks to all his previous employers, even the shitty ones that had fucked him over because he’d had to learn something off them-how not to be like them! He'd worked hard to get out of that life! He'd made sure he got to be his own boss, answerable to no one: the best move ever! He was in control of his life...as was she! The downside to being self-employed, was the overwhelming burden to make sure he did not piss off the Admin, who were proven to be vindictive and punitive especially towards small businesses, so he had to be clean and safe! He also had to make sure the light-fingered geezers did not clock him as their tendency for monkey business was very unsettling and frankly, unfair and below the belt in every way; and he had to watch out for conglomerates and Inc fellas too, fellas with egos bristling with serious energy on account they were greater than God. At least in their eyes they could prove their existence to anyone as they whipped your arse, whereas it was difficult to prove the existence of God to any fella without the nuance. Fkn' self-employed bullshit!!! Life as a robot was pretty much it, and very much not his cuppa! The Admin and conglomerates thought different, and screwed with fuckers like him that didn't play the game. Thus, he had to make sure he was below radar!!!

 

          This bridge-building romantic getaway had not worked out as he'd hoped. The calm, indifferent, cold, wet and rain deluged winter weekend had turned dramatically, and heavy frost and miniscule flurries of snow had made this jaunt into the Welsh Mountains, valleys, market-towns and cities a very frozen and slippery affair. Serious tension and nervous energy on account of suspect, real or imagined exploding bombs and belts courtesy of skinhead, religious fanatics or bearded atheists, or even the holy-clothed, cross bearing fundamentalists had been the background to all. She’d bickered a lot, miserable, unwilling to open up to the little pleasures of life, bitched about anything and everything, growled about sexy food and incredible wine as pointless and wasted-yikes!!!-, grumbled as he bought himself a leather jacket he fancied, and he was expected to say nowt, instead be encouraging and loudly positive as she paid a fair few more for a pair of jeans and a good few more for shoes that he knew she'd hardly ever use. Maybe she was setting by for when she was shot of him!!!

He'd shivered at the thought and trembled some more in spirit as he wondered why work hard if you cannot enjoy your blessings... and then worried maybe she was shopping madly to ease her angst or find a satisfaction amiss in her life! Thoughts, wild, crazy, real, fear-factor on maximum, and that she would not talk about it when he broached it, killing him with a withering look so full of loathing and dismay, was more or less, another nail in the coffin. So, that was that!

The final leg of their trip into London she considered another pointless waste; edgy, terrified of suicide/kamikaze guys on call, all the time, never for a minute letting him forget that he’d married a spirited girl, and right now, she was as good as dead! It wouldn't be a bad idea if a belt wearing monster went crazy and let rip on her arse, she said!! Would have been better than living this charade of a life with him! Why had he destroyed her spirit? Why? How? Whatever the fk for? She did not deserve this….no one ever did….she said he was doing her head in! His nerves were properly shot he was constantly farting, pissing her off even more!

Questions he had no answers to….and yet…it had happened over time, and he suspected much by her compliance and possible willing for a broken spirit to facilitate an easy get-away. The answers he did have were neither here nor there, primarily because they served no purpose. They would not have made for a reconciliation, nor allowed for new re-connection. She engineered the angry sessions. She held out on the pussy favours. She stoked the angry outbursts, incensed he was not the kind to argue back. Pissed her off even more as he discussed her need for freedom without emotion or judgement. He knew she wanted out and was striking in lieu, so, it was futile trying because it was not ever appreciated, much less required. The end of their time, he was sure, would be as and when she dictated! Oooh yes, she’d certainly see to that, for sure, and stress out this retard of a runt to high hell he'd wish he'd never been born. Teach him to take her and love for granted, muppet! A momentary worry about his performance in the restaurant in the thereafter fleeted through his soul, worrying about the anticipated lack of feel for food, the lost alchemy, the dead passion for sourcing new ingredients, and was slightly relieved he was self-employed, knowing for sure he'd never have coped if he was employed! The best thing ever, being self-employed! That employment cartel shit that held catering staff, especially chefs and waiters as slaves destroyed one's life as it kept one down like an unthinking, undeserving moron. Couple that with the fucking shit pay for crazy long hours, that not even a mouse would get out of bed for, and that was before the stuffy customers showed their features and laid on their smutty, arrogant diatribe passing it for humorous chat, talking shit about knowing a thing or two about food just because the telly always had someone cooking all sorts or other, and it was a given out-out-out- had to be!!!!! He shuddered in loathsome feeling...feeling a nervous tremor in his system.

So they were living at a time when it wasn't unheard of for a business competitor, a twocer, or an Admin Agency to zap your car with laser, all the way from fucking space! Worse still if it was the megalomaniac! You piss off anyone because you thought different, disagreed with their thinking, thought maybe their thinking and actions in general were below par, and phhhhwwwwoooop! Right out of the motorway you got puffed to nothing! Nothing! Not even a cloud of dust, and weirdly, others drove on and past as if nothing was ado, not daring to rubberneck, all shitting themselves lest a rubberneck be construed as a disagreeable thought extension by some delusional, egotistical son-of-a-gun! See, they used all those electronic things in cars, phones, watches, etc to pinpoint as you moved and lived, hence he stuck to his old school mechanical shit. No electronics for him, and he constantly battled with her about leaving or/and taking her mobile phone everywhere; that gizmo was a trace, pinpoint to a millimetre exactly where you were-good for a tracer laser or missile!  No more privacy, no more life, no more anything as your own! You piss anyone off and you were living on borrowed time! The Admin, any Admin, anywhere, were now the assassins. All those kids that had grown up on PlayStation, Vice-City and Assassins Creed were now gainfully employed as real-life assassins, using a knowledge and intelligence that was not for them. Earthlings had no respect for anything that was differently amazing; they took to using it to destruction or destroying it. Therefore, for the betrayal of selling off this knowledge to the Earthlings, isolated incarceration had been the just reward for the traitors. That was worse than death! Their crazy minds did it for them, sending them to hell and back, and to worse places, severally. See, they were greatly intelligent folk with supreme gifts, with a need to keep their minds busy, and they got really fucked up in solitary confinement in some desert hellhole with fuck-all to do!!! Pissed them off no end, big time, so that death would have been preferable! Their just desserts!! Which was what traitors and treason merchants deserved, only that it got a little bit complicated when the Admin used the same tools in their pursuance of starving the masses and stemming any questioning as to their embezzlement tactics. So you learned to shut up and prayed no clever fucker saw to zap your car right out of the motorway for daring question why solid national businesses like the sugar board, electricity board or the hospitals should be haemorrhaging funds like a bad case of haemorrhoids! If you ever dared to question why all these businesses were run by overpaid, incompetent imbeciles with no track record for successful business, phwooooooop! If you ever dared question why the national businesses were top heavy with bureaucratic nincompoops whilst actually losing the body, soul and process of business, phwooooooop! Old boys' network taking care of its own, and all got fucked to silence. Fear was modus operandi in a fucking democracy! Work in a little xenophobia and the perfect nationalistic runts were up to standard! The betrayal was complete, as the nationals lived a life not far off retarded, hunkering down, weak, unable and unwilling to call time on being fucked over! Earthlings were cowardly, with an astonishing need to hang on quietly, timidly, for ages and ages to a life that had them suffering unnecessarily!

 

He wondered if her madness his way was wholly or partly precipitated by his decision to not vigorously challenge her opting for the abortion. But that was easily ten years ago. It had been her insistence in amongst a whole host of other reasons as to why she wasn't ready for that responsibility, unwilling to be tied down in that way what with not being sure how she envisioned her future, a future with him she was very much in doubt of, even then and still had said nothing to him! He'd been against the whole, assuring her things would be well once past the initial shock and hurdles, as they were good together. She'd consistently overruled! Her move, her choice, verily sure she was unsure how good they were as a couple. With that choice made, he'd known, in time she'd resent him for a move that was entirely her choice, no matter what! Once her mind was made up, that was it, regardless the consequences, and it had followed naturally, all these years later knowingly living in dread and in the wrath of a secret anger that was indirectly focussed on him, living sweetly in emasculation shame and bathing in its fetid wafts!

Oh, what a woman! Look at her... so beautiful, so sad, so unhappy, distressed, sweet nose, sexy, naturally full lips that kissed something special, hot hazel-turquoisy-green eyes, amazing eye lashes, kinky, funky curly mousey-blonde hair with a double frizzle. He admired her profile in snatches, catching the angst, anger and confusion that projected onto her beautiful face from deep within the over-active, articulate mind. He winced, empathising in her pain. A mind such as hers he’d never come across in all his life in this dimension, and that skewered his all! A brilliant mind given to jousting, but resentful of the consequences. Was this torture? Mental torture? Abuse? Which way? A wife that refused to talk about anything, about their future, a wife that refused to fuck and would never talk about it, then got verbal when asked to discussion, resorting to incendiary ways then rebuffing with rebuke and castigation was an abused woman?  Could the man ever be the abused in these instances? How about when he stressed about the lack of intimacy and demanded the wife choose to stay or go, and she said nothing, instead choosing to stay and make him suffer, and all the while making sure he got no pussy, love or intimacy from anywhere; was that an abused woman? Or an abused man? She wanted to leave but refused to leave. She didn’t want to fuck but sometimes allowed for a nasty-ass-rape-style fuck in the middle of the darkest nights after the nastiest of rows as they came to terms with their maddening existence. Why would a very wet cunt suddenly nestle against his thigh? Why would a wet, cunt-honey drenched finger mysteriously tickle his nose and work its way into his mouth so very delicately, and in the next instant, splayed thighs clamped tight? Why would a magical hand caress and tug at a confused cock as the tight clamp relaxed again and the must of a horny cunt drifted his way as she rolled to face him, openly stroke and caress, hold him, pull herself to him, make sure he understood she was up for it and in the next instant as he rose up, the thighs clamped tight and turned away? Why would she manipulate his hand to her dripping cunt, make all the right noises and still clamp tight? He rose up, she opened up, used his cock to tease her pussy, dropped the head an inch or two into the hot cunt, then, ‘NO! NO! No!’ He glared at her in the dark, his cock straining angrily, his mind fucked, his emotions broiling without coherence, and she knew she had him! He did not miss the faint smile. He wrestled her, she cried in despair. She held him tight as she clamped even tighter, “accidentally” grazing the cock aggressively. They wrestled more, rolling around and pushing, pulling, tugging at arms and holding wrists and hands, pulling and manipulating, nudging hard at her knees with his, she grabbed the cock and squeezed hard, pump-stroked it once-twice, eventually she gave up with a screaming sigh and groaned deliciously long and wistful as she was impaled by an angry cock! The sweetest, hottest and creamiest cunt ever, drenched full of goodness and horny beyond words! She fucked well, frantic and desperate, imploring and athletic, and come the morning, was as distant as heck, tired, withdrawn, moody and stressy. She cooked the best meals though!

Reason one he was in love with her-a hot mind! She applied simple mathematical theories and solutions to all of life’s problems, and in so doing, made his life bearable, sweet, beautiful, organised, complete. Smart girl! Grounded. A home goddess. She took wonderful care of him, loving him, and being right and proper, all the way from her happy days and latterly, in her anger and disappointment too. Days when...it had all been there…..ooohhhhh yes….. but now………… man…. it was almost getting all maternal…. how(?)... and maternal love kind of did not work well with Eros if you were red blooded…...a dangerous place to be! All the more confused by the fact that as horny and sexy as she was, she was as prim as prim was prim! So prim and uptight she'd never look at her own pussy, not even its reflection, and he wondered how she figured it so good to masturbate herself silly! He wondered how she got to grips with her obsession for shaving cleanly, and how she maintained feminine hygiene! He wondered how she pulled it off with her insistence he lick her perineum insensate and at the same time freaking out if she caught him eyeing her rosette whilst foraging away.  Doggy style was out because he lusted after her sweet, peachy behind....and yet she orgasmed hardest when he was with her in this way. All so long ago now! The pain of memories was worse when overlaid on all this present sufferance.

Admiring the Beauty in silence was not to say he wasn’t fond of her in speech; he adored her even more so, what with that mellow, sweet seductive voice, kind and warm!

Goodness!

           Lately, he terrified….there was a constant heightened mode of tension and a tint of aggravation he could do without in her voice. Nothing he ever did or said was ever good enough,…..lately…....She was given to being a smart-ass, snide, smarmy, arrogant and still not even outright rude. He knew she looked down on him, and smote him deadly every time she got verbal, and he hurt because they had lost all that was common and good that should have held them together solid; she no longer respected him! He knew she was striking out….so right now, and more and more lately, it was easier with her in silence! He had nothing to say to her anymore, because in all truth, she did not care, not even in the slightest, whichever way he wanted to be looking at it, however hard he tried to sex it up to excite her mind…because, he knew, she'd decimate his manhood as she proclaimed, ‘You always talk shit!’

He knew he wasn’t talking shit to all them others. They loved talking to him…he split their sides in between crazy nookie, they sought him to be with him, to engage his mind, his laughter, then delightedly gave in to his amorous intentions. All this extra activity he had with others upset him, stressed him out…but in truth, he was past worrying about it. Yes, it was messed up, but what to do? She did not want to be with him and yet did not want to leave. He lived in hope, hoping she’d change her mind and ways, just like she kept saying every four-five weeks. It had been a few years now.

It was hard, one must understand, it was hard to let her go, simply because one good day with Marianne was magical enough to forgive and forget a thousand bad days. She had the kindest spirit, the most wonderful voice, melodious laughter, supreme mental agility and ability, intellect to surpass all else, amazing company. A beautiful, wonderful girl, well accomplished.

Memories of her on their wedding day drove him to the edge: angelic, soft skin, sexy, beautiful, amazing hazel-green eyes, that wonderful lopsided smile, the beauty shimmering in a short, light green skirt suit. Before witnesses, in Church, in Alfriston, she had promised, same as him, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…till death….she had promised!

So much for promises; he wasn’t feeling anything coming his way anymore! She’d grown tired and bored and disinterested in loving him. Love for her with this man was no longer an option. Ergo she’d married him knowing what he was about. As far as she was concerned, love could also change and die if need be! And love died because of so many reasons; so many ways to kill love! A bloke piss on the toilet seat and find it funny if you sat on it, well….how bad could it get? If his mother hadn’t taught him, if life hadn’t taught him, if he hadn’t learned anything in life….tough shit! If the bloke was just a bit too lazy helping around the house, especially with the washing up, hovering and picking up dirty clothes strewn everywhere, and still expected nookie at the end of the day, after she’d worked the 9-5 job, taken care of the housework and made dinner too, well, he’d better have another think, and soonest! Lazy fucker…wear her out to an early grave no matter how much she liked cock! It wasn’t happening, no matter how much he talked crap about the equalisation of gender specific chores in the home, ignorant, chauvinistic runt! A bloke that made no time for quality time, shared not in her love for card and board games, speaking to her like he were talking to some shit-head skivvy; disrespectful, insensitive, ignorant, uncaring, stressing he wasn’t getting any nookie and making some big brouhaha…stew some more, dude! Especially as he was disinterested in further stimulating her mind and taking it all for granted with a wishful hope for nookie thereafter even as it was obvious he was cheating…have another think buddy!!!!!!

Too late for him…he was busy wallowing in self-pity, sorrow and misery, acknowledging the end of the road for him was nigh, and as compounded by the fact she never ever wanted him doing any housework because, she said, he fucked it all up and she’d have to do it all over again. Was that a deliberate scam so she wouldn’t be asking him to help out then bitch he wasn't helping out? Fucking up the housework was somewhat stupid, any which way you looked at it. Weird, considering he’d won her over with his homely charms and articulated, considered, domesticated, ways…maybe she had been a bit too young and naïve then. Maybe he now was just too comfortable, too nice, too regular, too much living a routined life and not a challenge anymore? The nice, secure man was now boring, desexualised, uninteresting and kind of bland and podgy. It did not matter he’d paid off the outstanding balance on her student loan, because she made up for it by being a dutiful wife. He may argue different, but it mattered not. Not what she wanted, for sure, looking at and understanding her, so that it was obvious she couldn't see herself giving him a chance to work out their differences, not this far down the line anyway! He lived in hope, even then, but, fuuuuck…she really wasn’t interested, and the waves of negative vibes off her burnt intensely…and reading her mind, he was sure she was sure there were better pickings out there. She was in paroxysms as she figured any moment now he’d be remarking she’d married him knowing thus, why change now? He for sure wouldn’t like the answer she’d wing his way! That was a definite….so he better not say shit!

He contented himself with the wonderful silence, as he admired her, thinking big and wonderful things of her, and her shitty miserable ways too. Any remark likely coming from her right now in response to anything he said would verily be derogatory, and like a gunshot wound to the heart, it’d burst his beat, deflate his strength and will to live, and in return, he was sure, like always, he’d have vatfuls of resentful, bilious words. They had lost all capacity for reasoning and compromise: love had long since left the home, gone AWOL, and vengeful anger and nastiness had moved in, a powerful, unwelcome guest!

More so as he visualised the essential beauty of her ways in the past, the kind hearted nature of her being, her tenderness and heightened sexuality and he zeroed in on the way she’d always lock feet around his hips as he strode the love rhythm good; knowing none out there were as good as her! What a delicious fuck, the sweetest lover with the sweetest pussy with amazing grip and sensation, a creamy cunt that oozed its delicious fragrance, heat and magic in great style, and back out again; what a lovely person, all in superlatives!! Damn…some other fucker would be doing her good and proper as she made sure the new fucker did her good and proper in her quest to banish the nasty memories of this idiot. It was true; one man's junk is another man's treasure. And this time round she wouldn't make the same mistakes as with him, ensuring the new bloke would appreciate her fully and all the way, every single, damn day! She’d let the new guy kiss her crazy, eat out her cunt frantic and deep, let him fuck her wild every single time with her boobies glued to his mouth. She’d never complain he only ever kissed to get laid, going all out to make sure her fucking, her moves, her articulation, her heightened sensual awareness and projection would be that much more sophisticated, intelligent and broader, so that the new fella would be worshipping at the altar of love without cessation! All the time!

So with her in silence, he knew he was at peace: hotly tumultuous, burning, resentful, and yet calm; Peaceful! Not the kind of peace that came with whole-hearted contentment, rather the kind that walked hand in hand with an overwhelming sense of gratitude at being alive and being spared a volley of verbal aggro that would surely cuckold him!

And because she kept up the silences for longer and longer, he ruminated, fretfully, fearfully, at what could possibly be stewing in that powder keg that was her brain, recognising he did not have long to feel it’s explosive effect, whatever it was! He knew he was in for a ride that knew no start, no course and no end. Untold fears, worry, misery, insanely whoopee-happy active stomach ulcers, insomnia, paranoia, punitive breath sapping palpitations that had him reeling and breathing in whistles, and he prayed, hoping he’d survive and not implode into non-plasma.

Her stony silences always tore at his heart, but brooding over what was her angst got him nowhere in any fashion. Worse, the stomach action gave him bad breath, constantly, worse than a bad case of halitosis, a loser every which way! It was debilitating knowing she’d given up talking to him, was no longer interested in whatever was in his mind, whatever his spirit had to offer. Once he’d heard her say to a girlfriend, ‘I’m damned. Can’t live with him, cannot live without him, and I’ll definitely be better off without him!’ So, checkmate! That very girlfriend was soon writhing in ecstasy in his arms……

Vengeful bastard he was!

Another time Marianne had caught him ogling a big-arse mama that walked into the restaurant. Hot, huge titties tipped with erasure style nipples that strained forcefully against the layers of clothing and bra, massive hips, and awesome sex scent and appeal to fill a big room. This woman sat on the chair and her arse spilled over the sides and the mind went into overdrive imagining her sat on his face with her huge cunt lips smothering his face and her huge clitty sweetly working away in his mouth-drool-…and she was tall….a proper Amazon! All the men ogled her discreetly, suddenly taken of wild, amorous thoughts that stirred them up cave-man no end and the eyes went loopy and foggy! Marianne had laughed sarcastically, and said softly, despicably, ‘You wouldn’t know what to do with that!’

Wh-a-a-a-a-a-a-t?

Ho-ho-ho-ho-what she didn’t know…..sticking his tongue flat on that fat, thick bulbous cunt with a clitoris as big as a pinky and he was orgasming tremendously kinky in tandem with her. He’d been hitting it a long time, so long, the Amazon was addicted to his brand of violent loving. As much as he loved it when the woman dropped her massive weight on him and ground her sweet deliciousness on him, gripping him hard with her thunder thighs, bidding him "eat cunt, bite, nibble my fat lips, suck my thighs, harder..." till she marked and scarred! He was drinking so much honey from her flowing gush, he was getting on in weight and drunk on it too. She loved it when he trussed her up, had her suspended off the beams in her bedroom, swung her about and took his chances with her hot, exposed, flailing thighs!!! She got off on being blind-folded, tied up to the four posts on the bed like she was about to be quartered, and he had his wicked way with her roaming his hot tongue all over her, into all the various nooks and valleys, whilst he too got off on her sweet, fragrant deliciousness! Ramming his hard cock into her hot, wet, dripping cunt was as always, painfully astonishing in its sweet torture and the cunt gripped it like it was wont to rip it off! It was ever so delightful, he nearly cum every time he sheathed up, no matter how many times, what with its tight and fat creamy soft lushness. He was crazy for her sturdy legs, legs so robust he orgasmed freakishly tantric as he kissed, massaged and stroked them as she hung up there! He wasn’t averse to humping those great legs with his tongue buried deep in her cunt, sweet mama, so sexy. She fucked so much better, hotter, deliciously wetter, keener, pouting her huge cunt lips into a tight grip that ripped his cock, almost magical and more; lightly intense, diligently, then dementedly fast and furiously aggressive so that it was bordering on the dangerous. She fucked so good intellectually, so much better, swivelling, riding, sucking, drawing him in madly delirious, and so highly tuned, so much more than the hot, perfect hotties that swung their sweet tight arses about town…..Oooohhhh sweeeeet mama Curramba! Sexy stuff……he broke out in a hot-cold sweat…..this woman perfected her moves so that she knew exactly as she wanted her man to move and rock her to orgasm. She reasoned, her orgasm, her pleasure, thus, her responsibility to make sure she got it! Leave that little tricky business to men and you never got off as and when, never felt the fire...so what the fuck? Show the man what to do and work with him. Most men left to it on their own fumbled and erratically just about got to it...too much time wasted! The woman knew her body more intimately than the  man...so, get rid of the hang-ups and tell the runt how to lick cunt, just how so and help him along then enjoy the resultant fucking and pounding. Too many women were missing out on orgasms because they knew not how their bodies worked, or they lacked the confidence and intelligent communication skills to convey as they desired! In any case, wasn't it always about the woman? How many women knew about the strength or the purposive weight of cock? How many women knew about willing a cock to thunder to spasms??? How many women knew how to manipulate a man's mind by the power of a hot cunt wrapped hot around and drenching a hard cock?? How many women gripped cock well with their cunt muscles and rippled waves of ecstasy on the cock till it exploded? She had beautiful feet too, that she liked regularly sucked, massaged and fucked, before or after humping her great legs. Her calves were just right, sturdy, and they liked some great action too.  Occasionally she lubed her feet, knelt on the bed with her back to him, and used her feet to hold his cock and massage it against her butt crack. Shortly she used her feet to guide the cock into her creamy, drenched cunt, and he went explosive! Fucking her feet and cunny in one, and she rose up mightily in his estimations. Skills! Dedication. Art. His wife talked too much shit without getting creative. Most wives, actually…and they took away the man’s need or right to be creative in bed, always suspicious! Maybe not wrong in their suspicions, but….

He'd shook his head, drooled long as his eyes fogged in lustful memories, barely concentrating on knocking out the woman's bacon, sundried tomato and goat's cheese croissants! Once a week...every Sunday, nigh on a fair few months, that beautiful, big and curvaceous body took him places not far off heaven. Especially as she sat on his face and ground her cunt hard, smothering him with her fat lips, her pinky of a clit so deep in his mouth, his tongue deep in her cunt, and his cock deep in her mouth, and he struggled for breath, and it was the best!

Right now his balls hurt as hell as well……Theresa…Marianne's best friend,-more like acquaintance-had been most determined in her super complete surrender to him….all night, three nights on the trot the week just gone, taking care of his needs as she gave of herself to him in ways his wife could never imagine.  She groped his hanging nuts and said, 'I need your balls empty in my cunt. A fucking married man with heavy, full balls!!! I am single, horny, in need of spunk, so fill my cunt with your unused spunk before you see to waste it!' And that was just it!!!! It never ceased to amaze him how easy it was to be two faced and ‘very loyal’ in one. Theresa knew he wasn’t getting any at home, she fancied him, availed herself and he hammered it….in the back stores doggy style….in the restaurant bent over a chair or sat on a table. He loved being with her in this fashion….she loved sitting astride him on the chairs, stuffing her generous breasts into his mouth as he fed her chocolates and all manner of sweets with his cock deep in her. Sometimes still impaled on the cock she leaned further backwards to effect a deeper penetration….and they got more and more daring, taking deadly chances in their search for illusioned fulfilment, as Marianne was busy doing whatever it was she did when she was indoors upstairs….year in, year out. A long time he’d been giving Theresa some…..

Along the way something happened, and he was two timing Theresa with Amanda and Teresa-Marie Salvador. He was getting so much action, it wasn’t funny…and he was miserable!!!!…So f***ing miserable beyond imagination, empty, bordering on insanity.

Despicably so, if there was such a thing.

He wanted Marianne to concentrate…she wasn’t and so, just as well she wasn’t a mind reader or gifted of extraordinary vision…..damn….he’d be damned!

And crazy coochie was his game!

Lauren sent him places he liked. She was so young and yet so hot in grown up ways. She had a husky, melodious voice; long, curly blonde hair that frizzled wildly, a sweet tiny nose and sexy wonderful highly painted large lips that cheered him up no end as it split in laughter and humour. She was from Indian Queens, a long way away, yet made it all so possible; she was so very different, played the innocent, naïve, and fucked like a world class mistress… A little trip to the opera in Bristol was followed by a little detour by a hot Turkish restaurant by the dockside, and afterwards, a little champagne bar tour with her emotions slanting his way, magic had been! She fucked so hard and long, her cunny constantly dripping and the bed was wet. She screamed low and gentle, egging him on to crazy heights and bouts of wild debauchery….she said she loved the way the tip of his tongue tickled and opened up her clit-hood…

Diane was a gentle angel, almost puritanical in her touch, speech and aura. A woman so scorned and ill-treated at home-taken for granted, she said. A woman so determined to want out of her relationship because she believed she had made a mistake and was unwilling to reconcile with her tediously materialistic husband who had to have everything Mr Browne had and better. He was always being insufferably insensitive and tongue lashing the kids to strait laced ways all the time, so that Coelho’s gentleness down the phone had got her going something bad. She’d said she’d grown up with strong men and people that never paid her compliments but took what was rightfully deemed theirs as indicated by a surreptitious nod and smile. And so…because it was as it was, he stuck to complimenting her, and as her eyes dropped to that droopy-eye-want-you look, she was indicating she was open to an advance. She willed him…a little sex-text and in no time they were traversing the other side to all else, as she brought along her friend too: a furious, hot three-way affair. Once, an overbearing neighbour saw her all naked, voluptuously titted and slim-bellied, bronzed of skin, riding his cock in her garden beautifully tender and slow as her friend spread her thighs wide as she sat astride his face making for his intrusive tongue to wander freely and forage deep and wide in her lusty, hanging lipped quim. The neighbour stared at them right through the whole and he wondered what the guy thought or was doing below fence level. In the middle of the night he was up again to conclude proceedings, deliciously stroking her sweet round derriere, delighting in its bubble shake as he fucked her some till early in the morning, and this time, she was even louder, wilder, hugely turned on, and made sure the neighbour was without sleep for the night. He wasn’t too sure if she was playing up for the neighbour, and he felt unease. In time, he got bored of her self-centred ramblings and kept her on side for the occasional booty-call when he fancied different, and not much chat……

The women knew he was going without hanky-panky at home; they said they could tell….and they felt lusty-sorry for him, even as they hauled their breasts on to the kitchen-hatch counter. Or as they sat eating, staring at him as he worked the stoves, fluttering their eyelids ‘accidentally’ as they watched him watch them eat his ‘alchemy’, colour rising to their cheeks. Sometimes they twirled hair, flicked hair, flapped their knees and thighs. Sometimes, with an indicative surreptitious nod, a hand went under the table drawing the skirt or dress just a mite higher up the thighs and they opened just a little bit wider, smiling discreetly just with the eyes, inviting him within and deeper, willing him a sneak scent of their majick….all sorts! They were making sure he knew of their availability!

Availability that he took great advantage of….all colours, all races, all ages, all variations….tall, short, fat(the warmest, hottest, most active and most delicious in dangerous ways. As were plump, voluptuous, slim, big-breasted, amply breasted, just so breasted, small breasted-his favourite-and the perfect palm-fit breasted), all kinds- they were all sweet, from age sixty to late twenties, all kind, warm, appreciative and generous with their wonderful gift of tenderness and hot, vibrant cunts. They made him forget for all of a moment that he was in a very bad place…-not being loved by the missus! The older, married woman that lived ignored in the home was the best, sweetest, softest, gentlest and most stylish fuck ever, what with all her angered frustrations and untold hunger for cock, respect and gentleness even as she was dominated rudely in the bedroom! And mostly upstanding pillars of society too, to say we are all same in our baseness: We all need love, tenderness, kindness and attention! And good fucking!

The oxymoron was he prayed not all was lost, hoping he had not completely lost her. But by heck, she was eight, ten, twelve months, a couple years gone down the silent route, and he still debated the possibilities and viability of getting her back on to his boat. But then, that far gone….would God play ball with him or was he meant to learn from what was?

 

           Christmas was just gone, and it had been a very low-key affair in the home. He could tell she was struggling with it; the proof being presents to him had been thin on the ground, really thin, desperate thin-an old poorly knitted manky scarf, and a washed out, flimsy pair of socks, you know, the sheer kind(was she saying something?). Presents to herself, on the other hand, had been on the generous side, weeks before and days after Christmas. And he thought more about the point of gifts at Christmas. Why? What was the originations and meaning of the symbolism? Did it translate well in the new living? Put it this way, December was spent by all in a state of anxiety, purchasing and planning, and if you were a chef, working hard, long hours for nothing, because at the end of all that slavery stint, you had nothing to show for it, other than great relief and tiredness. Materialism and great highs or great sadness and loneliness was the reality in December and over Christmas. What was the point?

Now that the excruciatingly long holidays were over, and passion with his wife still on an extended holiday, what with the visiting boredom and wrath definitely outstaying a non-existent welcome and making for an interestingly aggressive existence, the mind played games with one's imagination. Thoughts of hurting the other, thoughts of leaving in style whilst burdening another with bankruptcy-inducing debt, ego pleasing images of suffering and sorrow as the other lived in misery on account of a master stroke, and January was way full on, albeit the first week, and business spending was good. He loved the cultured, moneyed folk that virtually lived in his restaurant. They were a good source of distraction from his misfortunes, as well as an inspiration. He derived great pleasure whipping them wonderful treats to get away from the boredom that was repeat dead love function that was his life.

Then again consistent repeat function gave rise to a perfected perfection…. life was too short!

He loved that his customers thought good to guarantee his income, too. For them, he pushed the boat out, much to Marianne’s exclusion, annoyance and resentment.

This then is where and when her silences would have taken root. Aggrieved at Coelho’s commitment to and flirtatious character with his customers-both male and female (he had no qualms saying to a man he looked good in whatever outfit. He discussed man fashion at great length, deliberately letting slip he liked to dress impeccably smart and sharp, and less of the high street-uniform for all- casual clothes she bought him. She thought him weird; he had changed, especially with Lennox Aaron around, whom she disliked intensely….made him want Aaron around more...)-she found him insufferable, the thought of being around him unbearable!

Unable to annexe his friends, unwilling to talk to him, disinterested in his life or even their life together, it was a natural progression that she existed alone on the fringes of his life, their lives and life in general, never partaking of much together, preferring solitude and quiet, which set her at odds with who and what she was essentially, and what really should have been their life together.

Constantly ignored at gatherings and conversations then, her own personal, emotional and psychological needs overlooked in deference to the paying and charming punters, friends and lovers, she deemed herself unworthy, unloved, unwanted. And that new car, a babe magnet, no wonder he was getting all secretive lately with his phone calls as he arranged dubious get away trips with all of them strangers, and nothing, if ever, with her. In any case she would not have gone along anyway-at least do her the courtesy of asking! But knowing him, once let down, he had a habit of never asking again. How come then he persisted in asking the strange women along, no matter how often they turned him down. Eventually they agreed….She could not take any more heartache, no more suffering; she was done agonising, worrying, falling out of love, stressing with doubt, fear and a non-existent need for him. Losing her mind as she lost her dignity and confidence was not an acceptable way to live. Deliberately, it was convenient to forget she had engineered the whole by denying him the intimacy and affection that was a marital right. Explosive bitterness in her heart and soul every time she looked at him was not healthy for her, let alone him. Finding an open box of condoms in the glove box and to be fobbed off with some stupid excuse he was hiding them for a mate that had come undone was no way to be living.  Plus, she believed she was nowhere near paramount in his scheme of things; he never discussed their future, never set anything by as savings, he never talked plans, he never talked love, he never worshipped her. He just existed, farted, shit, ate like a gorilla, walked like a f****in’ troll through the house, knuckles barely skimming the floor, hooking up nails off the floorboards. Sometimes he growled and bitched and demanded sex, crap sex that was over even before she was stimulated an ounce, and so her self-belief was gone, her desire killed, her pride in herself fast levelling out at zero! So as things were, for ever taken for granted was not happening….…..done! Finished!