Londoner Calling

Some of her mind pictures have a phallus attached to a bridle-like harness, worn by or applied to a person without one. I'm impressed: that is one stunning piece of imaginative art, and one which I gobble up as fast as possible.

Mostly it's her wet front hole she wants filled, but she's visualising her tighter back passage being fucked too. That's a rarity in female fantasies, given they don't have that bump which floods their brains with reactions. I suck greedily on that idea, too. It's hot and spicy and filling. That's my reaction to her thoughts, by the way, but I think that's roughly her opinion of something up her arse, too.

I shove two hastily-created fingers into her slippery passage, thrusting hard, making her gasp. She's making bright lights of visual brain activity now, like candy-floss for me. Sweet, fun.

Like a child at a funfair, I scoff the lot but immediately want more, so I rub that nub of hers near my thumb, hard. It lets me taste her winces of pain but also -- oh, fascinating -- rationalising it to herself, telling herself she's liking it, all part of submitting to a man -- or -- now she's having an internal debate, arguing with herself: does she submit or does she just want it? And how does that mesh with what she also wants to do to others, getting a man beneath her? There's a flash of one of those modern phalluses in a leather harness, and how this could be applied to a man's backside.

I don't think I've ever tasted the thought of a woman wanting to do that, before. This range and intensity of conscious thought, not just instinctive reaction, is amazing.

She's amazing. Her enthusiasm for all the ideas around sex is invigorating, not least for her attention to details, Iike how someone's skin would feel and smell under her own, warm, and sweating with excitement.

It's the best meal I've had in years. Decades, probably.

Oh, she's so good, this one. The taste of her thoughts is intoxicating, but for me, feeling actually full of conceits and brain-childer for once? It's so, so satisfying.

For the first time in a century, my hunger becomes sated, whilst physically I'm now fucking her, desperate to imbibe the last scraps of inspiration that are sparking off from her wild desperation. I'm not wanting my dessert to end, licking the bowl that is the products of her brain.

It's a real shame I'll never be able to have this one again.

Why? Well, I've devoured all those thoughts and all her brain-waves, now. Sucked out the lot, never for her to think again. They were tasty; now they're all gone.

Why do you think most of the population are such boring sheeple? She's just another identikit mind, now. Superficially fine, but no real personality beyond one she can find on TV. I pull her skirt down, pat her on the arse, and send her on her confused way.

Sorry about that, but an immortal hell-being has to eat.

I'm not sorry. Just have to watch how often I indulge, hoping humanity keeps up the supply of original thought to keep nourishing me and the others of my kind.

Otherwise, it might be another hungry billion years before the next truly-sentient species comes along.

Don't be boring, now.