I found the little bird on Instagram.
No—
She found me. She followed first, and I was lucky I opened the app that month. She was my five-hundred and twenty-second follower. The prettiest one, I discovered as soon as I checked her profile. She was young, tight-bodied. Not a lot of tit or ass from the looks of it, but Gods, she had this red hair, these curls like silk flame that flickered down to her hips. Her eyes were the opposite: ocean blue, fathomless.
I was a little confused at first. She was a real sweet creature in sundresses and floral prints, no piercings, natural makeup. A sept-going girl, no business following crusty old metalheads. But she went back and liked a bunch of my old pictures: shots of Stranger, grainy concert recordings, ambient northern landscapes from tour. There was one selfie, me in our old merch, a shoulders down shot of a black XXL Knightsbane tee stretched tight on my pecs. She commented: i have the same one!
So I followed her back. Watched her stories. Tame stuff mostly: selfies, shots of pastries and overpriced coffee, sunsets over the mountains. She lived out in the Vale. Lots of snow day pics, some ski bunny shit, and oh Gods, school uniform. Secondary school—not university. Woof. That put her at what, sixteen? Seventeen? Smooth glowy skin like that, seemed about right. Didn't hurt anyone to like her pretty pictures back.
Couple weeks later and she posts a story—pops up rimmed bright green, at the front of all those circle icons. I clicked on it, like I did with all of them, and what did I find?
A picture of her in a Knightsbane tee, tucked into a real scrap of a miniskirt. She paired it with black knee-highs and 1461s. She tagged me. The band, sure, but also me, @thestranger777. It felt personal. Thirsty girl.
I did what anyone with eyes would have done: I replied.
Pretty
Because she was. She was young and innocent and somehow into my music. Girls like her were impossible. Or they woulda been, without Knightsbane. Minor fame wasn’t part of the plan. I wanted to growl and grind strings; spawn horrorcore chimeras out of my shit poetry. I terrify. It’s in my blood; it boils out my skin.
So I got the guys together to make some cash off it. Sure, our best times were five or so years ago, after our second album Bloodbloom had a video go quasi-viral. We signed to Brightroar Records, I quit the shipyard, and we toured like mad dogs. Fuck, hardly remembered those years. Shoulda been the most alive, but we were on serious poppymilk, sipping, then chugging, then downright shooting. Felt fucking incredible. Killed my brother. Almost killed me.
I got clean last year.
This year a little bird flew into my DMs.
omg tysm 💓
i love your music 💓
Yeah?
oh yeah i’ve been listening to your stuff for forever
it’s like my fave
That was funny. Where had she been hiding? And what about the lyrics: birth corpses for bone meal, raw flesh devoured, sanctity of flame for no traitor, no coward got a preppy teenage girl going? I wasn't gonna judge.
You live in the Vale?
yeah eyrie city
it’s alright here
but i want to move back north when i graduate
When’s that?
next year :(
What’s so bad about the Vale?
ugh my uncle. he’s pretty much the worst
like sooo controlling
Sounds hard
it is 😣
wanna hear a secret?
What’s that?
i’m sneaking out to see your show next month
She earned a Naughty girl and replied with 🥺. That was kinda cute. Pretty cheeky considering I was a stranger. I was gonna let it lie, really. But that night she was on my mind—I blame the hair. I was hard in bed, and yeah, I whacked it to her pictures. First the Knightsbane tee story—I took a screenshot. She had put on winged eyeliner and black mascara for me. Her little tongue was poking out. But it was total fluke. All her other posts she was plain-faced, in dresses that covered her teenybopper tits but climbed up her long legs. Girl like her had no right listening to my filthy shit. So I got filthy back. Imagined snatching those curls in a fist, shoving my meat up her pleated skirt, filling whichever hole resisted less. Then I’d give her back to her uncle, leaking any number of fluids. Hopefully three, but four would be premium.
It was her eyes. Something about them, she begged to be punished.
My usual score was middle-aged goth babes with huge tits. Women who knew they deserved it—ten inches, and a good choking to boot. There used to be dozens beating up my phone at once. And fifty of 'em would come pile on us at the end of each show like bitches in heat. Now the stream had waned. There were a few in the DMs, passing fancies, and five or six each show. I directed most of them to Gerold or Bronn, took the hottest ones to the van. The real gems made it to a second-rate motel room. We’d party together, maybe fuck together, but I like girls better alone. For the conversation and all.
But look, I’m not a liar. The pretty ones, the pure ones, those were uncommon. And I’m a hungry man, making up for lost time, or purposefully making time shorter. That’s why I started Knightsbane.
I’ll put you on the list
wait really? omg 🥺
Oh, that face again. Sweet little thing.
Yeah
I just need your name
Sansa Stark 💖
you’re the the best 🤩
tbh i thought you’d be a lot scarier!
but you’re sooo nice 💞
That’s how I landed a little bird. So easy it didn’t feel wrong. Felt like I had stood still long enough to make a perch of my finger, but of course I’d cheated, put some tasty seeds in my palm. But a bird is a bird is a bird. She was in my hand. My fingers curled.
🔥 ❤️ 🔥
Girls love texting. We exchanged numbers and started a sorta thing. It made sense, you know, to stay in touch before the show. I didn’t wanna spook her none. So I learned about her. At first it was slow paced, just questions back and forth, favorite records, favorite books, favorite foods. She asked about Lannisport and I asked about school—she was in sixth form. Lower. Put two and two together when I found out her last birthday post on instagram was her sweet sixteen. It was just a number. She didn't say nothing about it.
And I let her talk. She didn't need much prompting to spill her cute guts. Started to be every day she'd report to me, like I was her friend or her daddy. oatmeal for breakfast! Picture attached. outfit of the day :) Picture attached. She talked about her girlfriends, Maddy and Mya. Complained about her cousin Robin, but also sent pictures of them playing together, on a fancy wooden swing set in an ungodly manicured backyard. Had near neon green grass and boxy hedges my height, not twig out of place.
The inside of her house was the same. Yeah, I mostly eyed her pretty face and tits, but I paid attention to the background. Got these little glimpses: pure white walls, wainscotted, lined with old-looking art that probably belonged in a museum. Stainless steel appliances, commercial grade, marble countertops, big ass windows that overlooked the Giant's Lance. One day she took a pic of Robin in a wagon in front of her house. He was a sorry sight—gangly and pale, like a sickly Eddardian child—but I got her house number from that one. Finding her block was easy. After that, I had her address. I wasn't gonna do anything with it, not yet. Just sometimes logged into Google maps and watched the satellite image. The property must have been in the family for a long time, couldn't find any appraisal records online. Looked like a damn castle with a chunky stone facade, heavy arched doorway, and towers at each corner. My little princess, locked away in a mountain holdfast. Didn't seem so bad.
But you know, we did a lot of talking. Covered a lot of subjects. Turns out her little sister showed her Knightsbane. Yeah, an actual thirteen year old. The shirt was hers—she must have bummed it from an older friend, or so the bird said. She didn’t know for certain because her sister ran away with that friend. Both were presumed dead.
That was some dark shit. So I told her, My sister is dead too.
elinor?
Yeah. The song was kinda obvious I guess. It was violent as all my stuff. Don’t know why, but I wrote it from Gregor’s perspective. Weak bones in icy depths, pink to pale to blue, I watch you drink death, sister mine, good riddance. But I’m not Gregor. If anything, I’m Elinor. That thought didn't feel too good. Felt about as good as blacking out every year on her name day. Last one was four moons ago. I caved and shot up. I kinda hoped I’d stay down. Overdose is easier if you’ve been clean for a while. Fuck. The little bird was really dredging this shit up.
that’s my favorite song of yours
the harmony in the chorus, when you’re singing and all
your voice is incredible...like so raw and vulnerable
it’s beautiful
it makes me cry every time 💔
I didn’t know what to say to that. Girls usually complimented my body if anything. Thick muscles, thick cock. Tattooed to all seven hells because needles under the skin feel better than coming. My voice is shit, brutal as a saw because I refuse to quit smoking. Rather be dead than give up bud. So she was lying, maybe. I couldn’t figure it out.
sorry i didn’t mean to obsess
i just really like it
You’re fine little bird
little bird?
Yeah
That’s you
Nonstop chirping
hey 😡
Hey what
She didn’t reply for a while. But then, am i annoying?
No
You’re a sweet girl
I like you
💖💖💖
Thing was, I did like her. Most chicks really were annoying, sliding in like, those hands would look great around my neck. I mean, sure, they would, but the conversation got stale after I got off. Not with her, with Sansa. A pretty name for a pretty girl. She kept me on my phone.
I'd be lying if I said things hadn't slowed down some. Not a lot of buzz around our fifth album, Lamentation. It was grimier than our old stuff. More experimental. I was fucking around with tempo and riff technique, writing songs that spiraled to nowhere. They were supposed to offend like brain fog, deceptively uniform, but in truth, monolithic chaos, thick and inescapable. The diehard fans went for it. Sold a decent number of records, and booked the tour just fine. It'd be us and the trusty sprinter for a few moons.
So we were prepping for tour, rehearsing sure, but there was down time. My days looked about the same: wake up, shotgun a tallboy, take a bong rip, or two, or three. I'd think about doing laundry. Think about doing dishes. I should have gotten myself a wife while the getting was good. Now I had to do all the chores. I liked shortcuts though, so I dropped my shit off at the laundromat and had my gal Pia do the full wash and fold. I'd go to the drive thru for a greasy burger breakfast midafternoon and order delivery with Gerold for dinner. Most nights I ended up at his place. We'd bulldoze through a case of Blue Rose and a quarter ounce no problem. Might riff some if we had the energy, otherwise we'd sit on our asses and watch shitty cartoons. The more violent the better. There were some good ones these days.
Used to be we'd head out to the Double Crown, slam hard liquor, do blow, scrounge up a lay or two. Brings those broads and the guys back to Gerold's place to keep the party going. I'd crash on his couch and wake up with my dick out and my memory wiped. Good times. Nowadays I drove home, kinda sloshed, and spun into shallow sleep. Woke up. Did it over.
Not anymore. The girl set my back pocket on fire and did worse to my cock. She wanted to talk dawn to dusk. So if I was up at six am, I caught her good morning text. At first I was up because I hadn't slept. But then I had to sleep later, and I missed out on her daily outfit or her lunch escapades. She got a stupid frilly coffee drink every day, and half the time it was a pink frap, nothing more than a glorified milkshake. But she'd take a selfie with it and smile so bright. I'd send back, Looks good
which part 🤭
You
She was starting to tease me. She got quiet after school during her piano lessons and tennis practice, then she did homework and ate dinner with her uncle. As soon as she made it to her room, I'd get a hey :) and I knew it was time to play. Little bird had a wild side. Her makeup was a secret from her uncle. She'd practice and show me. She was working on her eyeliner, winged tips at different angles, different thicknesses. She had sparkly eyeshadow and more sparkly powder that she dabbed on her cheeks and nose and lips. My poor cock would stiffen right up. By the time she washed up and climbed into bed, I'd dip out of rehearsal. Skip the last half dozen beers, and drink them out on my deck instead.
But bed time was good. In the dark it felt like we were the last two people on earth. It felt like the sun was up, beating me down, not dipping beneath the shabby apartments behind my yard and leaving me cold. Stupid, sure. I hadn't ever had a pen pal like this because my other girls had been older, more distant. Mostly in it for the drugs, real fleeting squeezes. My longest fling wasn't even a chick. It was Beric—ten moons. We fucked in secret until he chose Thoros instead. I didn't love Beric. He was a pussy. I kind of hated him. He sobered up then nagged me about rehab, all holier than thou and shit. He said I'd end up dead. I said good. But he wasn't self-righteous when I texted Tonight with a picture of my heat. Don't know why I tucked tail like that. Like I was begging. The faggot drove a hundred miles and held me hostage on the phone the whole way. He flushed my shit and slept in my bed for the first time. Next morning I was at Quiet Isle Clinic. Outpatient, wasn't gonna quit booze.
I only mention it because I was getting all introspective, hanging out on my back deck with Sansa. The city lights washed out the stars and my screen glowed brighter anyway. Almost felt like a date, because the girl gave me her full attention, pecking out messages at warp speed. We had gotten on the subject of me, unfortunately.
did you go to university?
I went to war
oh gosh
Eight years on the force
what's it like?
Shitty
did you kill a lot of people
What do you think my songs are about
right
scary 😟
I know
does singing about it make it better?
Some
I tossed back the dregs of a beer and cracked another. I was hoping the girl would drop the subject but no luck. Bed time was feelings time for the baby bird. That's when I became her daddy. When she told me about her sister. How her last words to her the morning she disappeared were I hate you. Better we talk about her damage than mine. So I let her chirp.
your music makes me feel better
Yeah?
yeah...i get sad thinking about mom and dad
What happened to them
silk street shooting :( i miss them so much :(
Fuck, that was pretty metal. A bunch of bureaucrats bit it that day—fifty, sixty? I mean, good fucking riddance. Those cunts are parasites. Lancel’s manifesto had more than a few good points. But that explained why the bird needed a father figure. Hers was bullet riddled mulch.
I sent, Sorry to hear that
She got quiet. Maybe I wasn’t good at play-pretend. But half a beer down my phone went off.
can i tell you a super secret?
Yeah
I watched her type, delete, type, delete.
i hurt myself sometimes
How ‘bout that. I took a nice long drag of my spliff. Thought of sending, same, and, feels good, doesn’t it?
But a picture popped up. The girl’s milky upper thigh, near her crotch. Right where girls got that little puff of flesh sat a series of white and pink lines, one fresh red. I looked at the blotchy mess in the crook of my elbow. My gut wormed.
Little bird, I sent back.
what?
You should tell someone, get help
my uncle can’t find out :(
Why not?
i don’t want to talk about it
That was a first.
drawing makes me feel better
Show me what you make
Little bird was talented. She worked with black ink and watercolors. Drew these spooky flowers with sad faces and demonic looking fairies. Decapitated unicorns and weeping maidens, their own braids snug around their necks. Had a haunted fairy tale vibe. Stuff she kept from her uncle, she said. I told her she had a special gift. Her paintings were perfect, she should keep it up. I told her she could trust me with anything. I’m not a narc. She believed me. And I was curious, I had questions of my own. Questions that led me to my bedroom, put my cock in my fist. That picture of her bare, butchered thigh had done something to me. I was getting sick of playing daddy. I was a hound.
Do you have a boyfriend
no 😔
Why the sad face
joff broke up w me...harry doesn’t like me back
Fuck both of them
They’re cunts if they don’t want you
you think so?
Hell yeah
You’re the prettiest girl I know
omg really? 🥺
Dogs don’t lie
you’re too nice 🥺🥺🥺
you really get me
You’re grown up for your age
Been through shit
aw thanks 💞
I was stroking steadily then, just so you know where I was at.
Tell me something
anything :)
How far have you gone
Murky territory, because she didn’t reply right away.
with a boy? she sent, finally.
Yeah
you won’t tell?
No sweet girl
okay
well
i gave joffrey three blowjobs
Now I was the quiet one. Pictured her rosy lips on my cock and had to take a few deep breaths to keep myself from coming. In the midst of it she sent, is that bad?
No
I bet you’re really good at giving head
joff said i wasn’t :(
Joff’s full of shit
he wanted to go all the way
Did you?
no
im saving myself
I should have known—the little bird was a virgin. No wonder she had acted all coy. Didn't want to upset the Maiden. I hadn't fucked a virgin in years, maybe ever, girls were always lying about that shit. But I didn’t think Sansa was lying. No, I was thinking I didn't want to upset the Maiden either. Better to sink to her level, put out another palmful of seed.
Do you ever cheat little bird
cheat?
Yeah
Do you touch yourself
She typed for a good long minute. Time I spent whacking, thinking of her virgin cunt. Would the carpet match the drapes? How would her little fingers look, squishing around her petals, dipping inside her dew? Then I thought of her blushing, snuggled under the covers. It was late in Lannisport, so it'd be dead of night in Eyrie City. Naughty little girl. Staying up past bedtime to text a man twice her age. Get this:
this is sooo secret
Of course
i do sometimes
How?
we have a really big bathtub
Yeah?
and i can put my legs up under the water
You use the faucet huh?
im so bad 😖
No
You're a good little bird
Does it feel good
yeah 🥺
if i do it long enough it feels really good
Mmmm
My sweet little bird gets off in the bathtub
🥺🥺🥺
It's alright
Everyone does it
you think so?
I know so
You make me feel that way Sansa
She left me hanging there. I was more pissed than anything because we were finally making progress. I was trying to figure out when to come. My balls were fully loaded, live ammo, fist on the trigger. I just needed a spark.
Can you send me a picture
of what?
Whatever you're wearing
I got a nightgown shot. Gods, that was sweet. Some Little House in the Crownlands shit: white cotton patterned with pink roses, puff-sleeves, and as predicted, she was in bed. Took the picture on her knees, with the lace-trimmed hem hitched right there.
You're so fucking pretty
thanks 💓
you're so nice
boys are always making fun of me
Shit, another heartfelt confession. I pecked out, Why?
my freckles :(
and worse
Tell me
they said i don't have any boobs
they wrote it in the bathroom stall
loras sent me a picture 😢
That's not very nice
Big tits aren't everything
Plenty of guys like small chested girls
really?
Yeah
I do
😻
You know what I'd really like?
what?
Another picture
oh of what?
I wanna see your pretty chest
Ten minutes. Yeah, ten whole minutes. But I let that one simmer. Same as my meat in my fist. She was a smart girl, I figured she got the prompt. She did. I hit the motherlode: bare naked bird tits. They were divine; perky and barely post-pubescent handfuls, tipped with light pink nipples, stiff. I thought of those in my hands and came hard, a real knuckle-drencher.
She sent along the cutest text: be nice pretty please
I could be nice alright. I was the nicest dog in Westeros for all she knew, as long as she served up her ripe little titties on a silver platter like that.
They're perfect
I love them
omg thanks 🥺
Thought for a second what kinda dessert to serve a flighty bird after an adult meal. Wasn't a fib.
I wish you were here with me
really?
Yeah
We could cuddle in bed
yes please 💖
We could kiss too
Would you like that?
yes 😍
i really like kissing
I bet you're a great kisser
You have such a pretty mouth
thanks
you're so sweet sandor
I fired off, Only for you. She sent back a crap ton of heart emojis, and that was that.
We had a thing going.
🔥 ❤️ 🔥
My nights leading up to tour were the same but different, because of the girl. Each night I got a little bit more out of her. I’d lay in bed, cock out, nursing a lukewarm beer, texting one-handed. She sent me pajama shots daily. I said she had the prettiest pajamas, maybe she could send me videos of her in them.
doing what?
Anything you like sweet girl
So she sent me ten seconds of her twirling in a silky nightgown in front of the mirror. Saw a little flash of her cute asscheeks, but I needed more.
I have an idea
okay 😇
Suck on your fingers
She got slow sometimes when I made new requests, but she always came around. Especially if I added, Please pretty bird, I really need it. That video was premium: a close-up of her ruby fruit lips, real juicy, dripping spit as she probed her tongue with two fingers. It steamed me up bad.
You turn me on so much
And she needed to know. So I sent a pic of the bulge in my boxers, chaste-like. She wouldn’t get the whole entree until she truly deserved it. But she didn’t reply. I sent, This is what you do to me.
Little bird…
She must have fallen asleep that night, but it didn’t matter, because I sent a Good morning pretty bird at six am sharp, and gave her the whole day to chirp about piano recital drama and why Harry was the actual worst. By night, she was mine again. Tour was coming up so if I wanted anything out of her I had to step on the gas. I asked straight up, soon as I was hard again, Was my picture too much
oh no
i mean
i was surprised is all
it looked very big
He gets that way
When I think of you
really?
Yeah
When I think about your pretty body
💗💗💗
Can I see you
All of you
I expected that one to take a while, but she delivered: a mirror shot of her, naked. Tits out, red wisps of maidenhair between her legs. She had a cute little belly like she’d just eaten dinner and dessert, but she was slender, long-limbed. Her body just looked new, fresh-out-of-the-shell, her skin creamy, smooth, unblemished. Her curls shone like goddamn sun. Look at you pretty girl,I replied. Can I show you what you do to me
hmmmm
You have to be brave
Can you do that?
i’ll be brave <3
Good girl
So I took a nasty shot of my fist on my cock. Very hard. Very red. Tip shining with precum. Sent it on over. Thought she might have forgotten her promise, so I sent off What do you think?
he’s so big 🥺
I know
I think you could handle him
you do?
Oh yeah
I think about you all the time little bird
Those pretty lips
But I’m curious about something else
what is it?
I want to see your little flower
No response. Figured. I thought about coming on my own, but opted for a pretty please instead. Five minutes later, she sent it. Fuck a garden when I could have a single dewy rose, delicate petals spread just-so by two tiny fingertips to reveal the tightest little hole.
Oozing.
I whacked with my head on fire and my blood cannon-balling in my veins. A last man on the battlefield type wank, and the orgasm put me in a mass grave.
A stream of notifications revived me.
what do you think?
sandor?
did you like it?
lmk
pretty please
???
Love it
Your cunt is perfect
For good measure, and why not, I snapped a downshot of my cum on my tatted knuckles and used-to-be abs. You did this sweet girl, I sent along with it.
oh my gosh
naughty hound!
Might be. But she was naughtier, spending the Stranger’s hours with a total stranger. Not for long.
I'm excited to meet you Sansa
ah i know! one more week :)
can't wait!!!
I didn’t have much of a plan. Tour started and took up my time. My fantasy was her pretty pink guts on my cock: her throat, her virgin cunt, maybe her little asshole. But I didn’t tell her that. I ignored her a little because I had to, in between gigs and driving and fucking around with the guys, and girls. Couldn’t be too obvious when groupies showed up, so sure, I let them suck me off and choke. We had a group fuck for old time’s sake, the three of us, and three chicks. It was a nice excuse to get my cock in Gerold’s ass, and my face in his neck. He looked better wearing my hickies. He looked best wearing a blackeye. Almost gave him one when he teased about Sansa—with all the texting, it was inevitable he’d hover over my shoulder.
It happened the night before our Eyrie City show. He caught a nude that the little bird sent, her stretched in bed with nothing but see-through mesh panties, ruffled at the edges. I replied pretty little bird and that was what Gerold read out loud from behind, while I sat on a scruffy couch in the motel room.
“Pretty little bird, I'll be damned. The Hound’s got himself some jailbait from the look of it. I knew you’d found a new bitch but I didn’t think she’d be barely out of diapers.”
I rammed my elbow into his sack because the angle was right. Stood up and towered over his little doubled-over body. Coulda gone for his face but didn’t.
“Her name is Sansa,” I spat down. “Mention her again and I'll cut your cock clean off.”
I smoked half a pack outside on the deck, hunched over the flimsy metal railing. Gerold came out with a couple cans of Rose. We cracked them, made up.
“I don’t give a shit how old the girl is,” he said. “Remember that chick Myrcella?”
Yeah, I remembered. A preppy little boarding school student. She was all of fourteen when Gerold started hooking up with her, until her grades slipped or some shit and her mom shipped her back to King’s Landing. Gerold pulled a joint from behind his ear and I lit it for him. He blew his smoke down into the crumbling parking lot below.
“You’ve been different since you linked with that girl. More mellow.”
I grunted, chugged half my beer so quick the bubbles burned, tightened me up. Gerold tipped his ash off the railing. I hated his insipid purple eyes, real unicorn-type shit. Shoulda punched them swollen shut.
“Just be careful. You’re fucking with a rich girl.”
Nah, she was fucking with me. She climbed in my head and wouldn’t get out. Wouldn’t get out of my inbox. The less I texted her, the more she texted me. Thoughts, feelings, sweet nothings, little chirpy drivel, and most importantly, nudes. She knew past midnight that I’d be up. Soon as my cock got hard after whatever lay, I stroked with Gerold snoring in the bed beside me, Bronn snoring on the pull-out couch.
I scrolled past dozens of messages just to get to the ones where she showed her tits.
Hot, I sent back.
omg hi!!!!! i missed you!!!!!
Fired off a picture of my meat in my fist.
Missed you too
oh my gosh he’s huge 😍
All from thinking of you sweet girl
do you talk to other girls?
No little bird
You’re my one and only
💓💓💓
We talked like that a lot. Poor girl needed a friend. So I was a good friend, very loyal. Didn’t let her down none. Didn’t mention the groupies because they didn’t matter. What mattered was that the girl lit up my world, that blissful headache of blue glow, lasered straight into my shitty skull. I whacked and she went off about the show the next day, what she was gonna wear, how she was gonna stay the night at her friend Randa’s house in town so her uncle didn’t find out. I didn’t want to think about her uncle. Said I’d kill him if I got the chance, no problem. Sansa said omg scary
He sounds like a total cunt
You deserve better
you're so sweet 🥺
You're sweeter
Text me when you get to the stone crow tomorrow
I'll show you around
okay <3<3<3
Don't know what came over me, but I sent back my own <3. Something to butter her up. Not that it'd take much grease to get her pussy on a plate. Hells, she’d buttered herself. She’d done the trimming and seasoning and all but hopped straight in the oven. All I needed to do was get in her guts. Scour out the viscera.
I'd be eating good tomorrow, no oven required.
Eating my little birdie.
Raw.
