Food fetish Stories

The name is Ouettecunte: Jane Ouettecunte. A highly distinguished old Saxon name, I am told by my husband. Mine was Bloggs; so you could say I have married into pedigree – and it suits me. Ouettecunte is, of course, the Norman bastardisation: the Wettkunts were a noble Wessex family who curried favour with the invaders and were granted a bishopric in perpetuity in what was then called Wiltshire. So they are terribly respe...

ACT TWO, SCENE ONE First a brief orchestral prelude, and we’re back to the RAF again, where it is still Friday 16th July 2060, but later in the afternoon. “Cocks and cunts!” Dr Dick held centre stage again. “It is time for us to proceed to the finale of this week’s proceedings – which I know you have all been looking forward to.” There was a hubbub of excitement from the audience. “What you are about to witness is utterly...

He stepped into the café just as I finished my meal. It was a little before three on a Wednesday afternoon, so there were only a few other customers besides us. I'd worked through my lunch break due to an unexpected mini-crisis at the office. By the time I got it resolved, I was famished and eager to escape my job for an hour. The man sat at a table near mine. My gaze lingered on him while he removed his suit coat and dra...