Not that he did not love the other curves of her body, but her bosom had that altogether different appeal that kept him staunchly attracted towards her. He had told her over a thousand times how much he loved her breasts. “They are all yours, honey. You can do whatever you want to do with them”, she would reply giggling.
Yes, they were. But he never felt compensated enough with any of the acts he did with them, be it playing with them, squeezing them, sucking them, or just staring at them the whole night. No other thing in the world was as doughy and as artistic as they were, for him.
It was the seventh month and those were the last of her few days while they could engage pregnancy, of her into sexual activities, as per her gynecologist.
The night was perfect. Moonless. It was hard to decide whether it was darker outside or inside their bedroom. The only sounds audible were of their heavy breaths, going heavier and heavier with each second passing. She had her orgasm, and the very moment he stabbed her. Not just once but seven times, slowly but firmly. It was so kind of him to give her this adorable death, the one with the climax of pleasure.
He had quenched his thirst for cannibalism with an infant, a few children and men till then, but she was the first human with those delicate breasts. It was surely going to be a grand feast for him that night.
He started with her liver and heart, as starters and soon reached those two cushy little things he was yearning for months. He delicately cut them and tasted what was inside, but that turned out to be just the fat that had been concentrated there densely. It tasted disgusting.
To his surprise, the tastiest part of her whole body was the fetus.
That was how he learned not to fall for just the outer appearance, but admire the inner allure.