Fifty shades of prey

Follow a conflicted relationship between praying mantis. Compassionate romance, seduction, and murder.

Fifty Shades Of Prey
No one can compare a woman to a book. Why? Because they’re simply unreadable.

As soon as he saw her he subconsciously thought ‘stay composed, don’t be a clutz’. Luckily for him he had confidence. Charisma. Her on the other hand, stunning. Large compound eyes. Such a phosphorescent lime. The shade of green equivalent to the infant spores that sprout from the stem of a springtime fern. Thin waist with wide hips and a plump behind. He couldn’t resist. Getting up the courage he walked over to her and started up a conversation. Some have a sweet tooth but not him, he was a sweet talker, full of charm. Her sharp mouth raised at its corners indicating he was doing well. Apparently so well she indicated that they should find some shelter. Lines as smooth as peanut butter was all it took for the handsome male to woo his counterpart. Once alone the action began…

The shy and vulnerable woman he had met was no more. Twisting her head over her shoulder almost fully around she beckoned him. Hinting. He softly ran his fingertips down her back. The pincers lightly grazing giving a ticklish scratch. The lascivious scent of pheromones in the air. Using his raptorial limbs he wrapped them over the top of her torso and climbed on top of her. Passion. Even picasso would’ve been happy with this gentleman's art of seduction. The whole time thoughts swirled his head such as ‘this is too good to be true’, amongst other less modest ideas. The best woman are the ones that make you work for them. If only he’d known that earlier.

As her lover was mounted atop her back, she asked him to lean closer to whisper something. Sending kisses down her neck, he obliged. “A little bit closer” she said. With one spiny nipper she grabbed a hold of his head. Put her mouth to his ear. “Thank you”. With that her grip tightened around his head. Her teeth bared and then sunk into his neck. The triangular blades tore tissue. He was clamped by her vice hold. His body writhed and struggled to be set free. In an instant he was impaled between her spiked tibia and femur. Immobilized. Following that she gnawed at the neck tissue to get it to a thin enough strand. Grasping the antennae of her mate, she used a jackknife motion to pry his head from his shoulders. A grotesque twist of the upper spine made a satisfying ‘crack’ sound of bone fibres.

The body slumped off her, and she flicked him to the dirt. Her pupils had changed from overly dilated to predatory. The argument can be made as to whether he was blinded by sexual desire, or she was simply to hard to read. Yet the lust in such infatuation cannot be ignored. The emerald woman smirked with content. For she had been silently sinister, standing well pleased upon her six legs. Who cares if they’re hard to read because in this day and age, a woman don’t need no mantis.
Sam.