Editor’s Note: This diary is really long to it will probably a 3 parter. I got this from a cannibal forum I found which I think is from the same users of the original cannibal cafe. Its a members only website, Luckily they gave me a membership one of the users gave me a referral link.
translated by Schlachter10/Scharfricther? 2010
Friday, July 1, 19…
When I really think about it, the whole thing seems quite painful. But I’ve had the urge for years to open myself up. The question is to whom? I’d like to reveal all my most secret and dark fantasies, but there’s no one I could trust with them. I simply don’t dare.
And therefore, dear Diary, you are the only to whom I can reveal myself.
And that’s not so easy. Diary keeping has always seemed to me something for wimps or lovesick teenagers. But I’m going to follow the advice of a psychotherapist friend and write everything that moves me here. I’ll probably burn you at some point to assure that you don’t fall into the wrong hands. Because setting it all down may be therapeutic, but there’s real danger in anyone else reading you.
Still, I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to risk it or I’m going to break at some point. Because, dear Diary, I’m hungry. I’m hungry for women. And it’s this hunger that compels me, that eats at me, and never leaves me at peace. And you’ll answer “so what? So do most men since the beginning of the species—it’s the reproductive drive. What’s the problem?”
Sorry, dear Diary, that’s not what I’m talking about. Of course I find women attractive and I love to sleep with them. For me sex is the greatest diversion in the world. But what I mean is I’m hungry for women, for their meat. For me, women are not just for satisfying my sexual lust; no, they are also sustenance. You see—I am a cannibal. There you have it. I already feel a little relieved.
Dear Diary, now you’re going to say that it can’t be that hard to find a confidant with whom to share my darkest secret. At least not in the contemporary technologically advanced world, a world of the Internet, a world of telecommunication, a world in which people living on two different continents can be closer than next-door neighbors.
But that only simplifies the hunt. The hunt for women and their meat. But finding a truly trustworthy person is unfortunately quite difficult. Of course I’ve come across a number of people who wished to share their life and love with me. The trouble is, it’s always been women, and even if they’ve shared my life for a while, they’ve only discovered my secret when it was too late for them—when they had to share more than their lives, when I took their bodies, when for a short time I allowed parts of their bodies to meld with mine—until they left me naturally.
That is and remains my dilemma. Women attract me. Not only sexually—of course I’d like the security and love they offer. Naturally I’m taken by their charms, but at the same time, I regard a woman as meat and sustenance, as an exotic and savory dish. At the sight of her, in my imagination, I see her cooking slowly on a grill grate or roasting in an oven; I see parts of her lovely body, prepared for a gourmet, sitting on the table in front of me. And it happens that women always make me hungry. When I leave home, it’s as if a wolf in sheep’s clothing is in the middle of a large flock. I’m immediately on the hunt.
For the moment, I’ll let this be it. Tomorrow I’ll re-read this and then—dear Diary—well, I’ll decide the future for you and me.
Saturday, July 2, 19…
Well, I’ve decided. I will continue to write down my thoughts and feelings here. I noticed yesterday, as I laid down my pen, that somehow I felt better. Somehow I felt freeer, and that continued today, even as I re-read what I wrote yesterday.
I prepared a meal immediately after I finished writing. I still had a little of the juicy loin of my latest prey—a 23 year old physical education student, whom I bagged a good three weeks ago. I caught her jogging. I remember how initially she was hesitant to interact with me. But many of my friends say I have a knack with women. I’m not bad looking, I’m built, and I’m in good shape. (As a cannibal, I must be in shape or the game can escape me.) I was impressed with her feminine but well-trained body as I was myself jogging through our small park.
I caught up with her easily, and as I drew even, I feigned a gasping “hello.” She only gave me a disdainful look, quickened her pace, and ran on. But without me. With a short sprint I caught up with her again to run along side and to smile at her. She tried again to run away, but as I say, I’m in good shape. She finally gave up and stopped.
I immediately and successfully pulled out all the charm stops. And she unloaded everything. In a short time, she told me the whole story of her life. I played the good listener, and considering what I had in mind for her, I could almost see myself in the role of a priest taking the last confession of a penitent.
After I had enough information for my plans, namely that she lived alone, was newly in town to begin her studies, and had no friend waiting at home, my tentative interest turned into firm resolve. I invited her for a drink. My home was nearby. She seemed happy to accept. Her idea, since she was all sweaty, to go home and meet me later, I brushed aside, and when she saw my place, she understoody why.
That’s the way it is with most women when they first see my home. It’s impressive when one owns outright an almost two-acre lot with a matching mansion. As you know, dear Diary, I inherited not only the mansion, but my father’s meat processing plant after his death.
So we sat on the terrace, and I served her the promised drink. Shortly she fell asleep; the drug had worked, and she was in the arms of Morpheus.
I dragged her into the cellar, where, behind a hidden door, I have installed my test kitchen, a cooler, etc. Everything legal and licensed. I even licensed a small slaughterhouse for meat animals. (I confess I’ve stretched the concept of meat animal pretty far.) In a small connected room I installed a small lockable cell. I bound and laid her there on a cot. Then I went back upstairs and got rid of everything which could have connected her with me. I wanted the drug completely eliminated from her body. I just don’t like it when my meat is contaminated with drug residue.
When I saw her later, of course she started a rant. What did I think I was doing, and I better untie her immediately, and she was going to have me arrested for unlawful imprisonment, and so forth. I smiled through her tirade, knowing well the fate awaiting her. She interrupted her rant when she saw me approach with a knife in my hand. Her eyes grew wide with fear, and she began to ccry and beg—I should let her live. She’d give me anything. I could do whatever I wanted with her as long as I let her live. Of course, doing with her what I wished is what I had in mind.
I began to cut away her clothing from her body slowly and with enjoyment. Soon she lay naked before me. Now I could inspect her more closely, and my hunter’s eye had not failed me. This body was a real feast for the eyes. Slim and well trained, firm and not overly large breasts, abdomen muscular but still feminine—fatty tissue in the right places, nicely-shaped pussy with a cute vertical smile.
She was shaved, and I had bound her legs slightly apart, so I could immediately see that the situation had her somewhat aroused. At least her labia had slightly opened, and there was tell-tale glistening in her crotch.
Still she looked at me anxiously, and I reassured her—I promised to loosen her bonds if she behaved herself. She nodded silently and I untied the cord binding her to the cot, but only to tie her wrists together. Then I untied the cords on her feet and ordered her onto her stomach on the cot. I wanted to inspect the backside of my prize, and likewise here I was not disappointed. The curvy butt cheeks promised to become exceptional hams. The muscular back harmonized with the soft lines of the neck. That would make lovely neck steaks.
I ordered her to turn over again. She now lay before me with bound hands, her thighs tight together, and looked at me anxiously and submissively.
Slowly I traced the curves of her hips, her breasts, and her throat with the blade of my knife. She stiffened and held her breath. I always enjoy it when my prey finds herself in this situation. It arouses me, and I revel in a completely sexual power trip when she lies so completely helpless at my mercy—or no mercy.
And such was the case now, and my member had stiffened to the point of being almost painful as it pushed against my clothing and sought more room.
Naturally I gladly granted my rod its wish and opened my fly. My manhood sprang out like a switchblade. She stared at it, and the look in her eyes said everything. She knew what was coming, or she thought she did. I dropped my pants and stripped off the rest of my clothes.
Naked I stepped up to her head and let her know that she was to first engage me with her mouth. She did as she was told. I must say that despite her fear, she was conversant with fellatio. Several times I had to withdraw my stiff friend because I didn’t want to cum too soon.
Even though it’s often tedious, I always try to give the women I take their last, ultimate orgasm. I take pains. I must confess this is not entirely altruistic. The pleasure endorphins engendered by an orgasm, as well as the stress hormones engendered by the situation in which the woman finds herself, give the meat a special flavor later.
So while she was working on me with her tongue and lips, I touched her between her legs and began to explore her feminine terrain. My playing with her did not leave her unmoved, and soon her body responded to my arousing finger. Moisture began to drip from her slit, the labia swelled and pushed out, and her legs began to spread. Her hips also began to arch and push against my hand.
Her breathing became heavier, and soon I pulled my shaft from her warm mouth and lay on top of her. I needed only a small correction—she pushed herself against me—and my penis was in her, engulfed by moist, warm walls. I pushed on in and she answered with her hips. Her breathing became even heavier and she began to moan loudly and cry out, and then I had done it. She went into an orgasm.
Still breathing heavily she lay there, as I slowed my thrusts. I had used two of her bodily orifices, and and now I wanted the third. Slowly I pulled out of her cleft and signalled her to turn over. As I pulled her butt cheeks apart, she divined what was coming and begged me not to do it. But in my arousal I had no mercy. With a single thrust, already slippery from intercourse, I pushed through her rosette.
She cried out, bucked, and tried to throw me off. But like a bronc rider at a rodeo, I staid on my steed, and with every thrust her resistance weakened. Soon it went over to resignation and then even cooperation. As I noticed her following my rhythm, I again changed the orifice and stuck my rod back in the hole nature intended.
In this kneeling position I couldn’t see her face, but from the contractions around my penis I could determine that her arousal was not over. She was moving unmistakably toward another climax. Just as it appeared she was close, I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. The contractions around my member intensified, as did her moaning and gasping. As it hit her, and she groaned in the throes of a powerful orgasm, I slit her throat with one deft stroke.
Blood spurted immediately from the unnatural opening in her throat, and she made gurgling noises. I thrust even more strongly into the twitching body and finally ejaculated deep into her body. Breathing heavily I lay on her back as she twitched a bit more and then lay unmoving. After I had withdrawn, I stood up and turned over the lifeless body.
Her expression was one of surprise, and her eyes stared lifelessly into the distance. To gut her and butcher her into portions ready for cooking was no problem in my little test kitchen. I was also prepared for the bones. In my garden shed there was a sizable wood chipper with which I could easily shred her bones, and the bone meal could then go into my rose garden.
So, dear Diary, re-reading this has made me ravenous. Not only is my stomach growling, but my dick is looking for relief. More tomorrow.
Monday, July 4, 19…
Night before last was pretty hectic. But I’ve got to admit that from the hunting viewpoint I was very successful. You can envision that after I finished my entry in you, with a growling belly I visited a disco to reconnoiter in search of game. Since the disco in question is currently a hot spot, it was crowded, and if I could have had my way, I’d have stormed the dance floor and started chewing on the many available breasts, thighs, hips and buttocks, arms and calves.
I felt like a vampire in a blood bank. But I know what is proper for a decent cannibal. The prey must be caught. One can’t simply jump the prey and start biting. Aside from that, it would be dangerous. I’d be caught immediately and jailed. And then I’d never again be able to satisfy my passion. No, I’d conduct my hunt with structure and style. Everything must be considered. I already had several potential prizes in my sights.
But it would be dangerous if I left the disco with my prey. I am well known, and someone might remember that I was seen with a person who disappeared. I would have to avoid that risk.
So I joked here with a girl, flirted there with another, offered another a drink at the bar, and danced with assorted other habitues.
Of course I tried to get relevant information for my intention from each conversation. Was she here alone; what was her age; who knew she was here, etc. And I tried to discover everything worth knowing about the body of the object of my desire. The dance floor helped, of course. By dancing I could appraise, more or less surreptitiously, the quality of the meat. Was it too mushy and flabby or was it supple and firm, which indicated fine, marhemorrhage, juicy meat without excess fat.
I soon had my choice of several women. But I had to choose one, and as happens so often in life, I chose the wrong one.
Before I could ask her the all-important question, she got a text message that a family member was coming to pick her up. Too bad.
So I left the disco frustrated and with a growling belly. Not every hunt is successful. But sometimes life yields the most remarkable coincidences. As I left the parking lot in my car, I saw two prey animals standing in the street. They were hitchhiking for a ride home. Ideal. No one saw the pair climb in.
In my charming way I was able to convince the the two—their names were Lisa and Claudia—to come to my place for a nightcap. Since there were two of them, they felt strong enough to resist in case I had something untoward in mind (did I?). When we reached my domicile, their eyes grew wide, and they soon showed me in word and deed how impressed they were. The more I showed them, the more compliant they became. I showed them the gymnasium and asked them if they wanted to take a swim.
They could—since they had no bathing suit—swim comfortably naked. For me this would be a great opportunity to appraise their suitability for rotisserie meat, for pieces for braising, for oven roasts, or for stew meat. They happily agreed and soon I could inspect them more closely.
Lisa was blond and relatively well put-together even though her breasts—I’d guess C cups, had seen their best days and now were beginning to surrender to the pull of gravity. Her belly and hips were feminine. But unfortunately her thighs were a little heavy for my taste. The same with her bubble butt. Her pussy was shaved bald and had my mouth watering. Everything considered, one could use her on the rotisserie, as well as any other cooking method.
Claudia, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Tall, very slim, almost gaunt, a boyish figure (which I like), brunette. Her breasts, if you could call them that, stood directly away from her chest. The length of her erect nipples considerably exceeded the depth of her breasts. Since her thighs were also thin, one could see between them, which was impossible with Lisa because of the the thickness of her thighs. She was also shaved, but her mons was only slightly rounded. There just wasn’t much to her. I’d have to use her either for sausage, as stew meat, or I’d have to fatten her up. But I could decide that later. For now I wanted some fun.
As I stood appraising the two naked prey splashing around in the pool, they seemed to make a decision. I’d better strip and join them in the pool, or they’d pull me in. Naturally I couldn’t ignore such a challenge, and I quickly peeled off my clothes and jumped, naked as God made me, into the water to join the two lovelies. We splashed each other with water, ducked, and paddled around. In the process we couldn’t avoid touching—even if accidentally—some private places. And then suddenly sex was in the air.
As I sat snorting on the edge of the pool after the two had pushed me under, Lisa swam between my legs, uninhibitedly grabbed my already slightly-turgid member, wordlessly took it in her mouth, and began to work on it with her lips, tongue and hand. And my little guy thoroughly appreciated her efforts. He sprang right up to his full length and explored all of Lisa’s mouth and throat.
In the meantime, Claudia wanted in on the action. She climbed out of the water, embraced my upper body, and began to kiss me passionately. Our mouths were soon engaged, and our tongues were doing the dance of growing lust with each other. Soon she opened her legs, and I had a finger in her wet and ready cleft.
As I explored her labia with my finger, my thumb was hitting her erect clit, which elicited loud moans from Claudia.
At the same time, Lisa continued to please me orally. And I must say she was not a bad flute player. I felt it in my ears, and my balls were already moving, and were it not for Claudia, I couldn’t have kept from feeding Lisa a nourishing ejaculation.
So after I pulled my rod out of Lisa’s mouth, I lay back and pulled Claudia on top of me. Claudia squatted over my stiff penis as if she were going to pee. Then she grabbed me with one hand and directed my manhood directly into the wet, receptive sheath of her female genitals.
And then she began a wild ride. Before I could consider how I could stay in the saddle longer, both my ears were covered by two buxom thighs. Lisa’s slowly descending vagina appeared in my field of vision. Wet lips shortly pressed against my mouth, and knowing well what the lady expected, I drilled my tongue into her wet and slick sex. I tasted her salty pussy juice which only heightened my lust. Lisa wiggled her bum; in fact she absolutely whetted it on my face. My nose was repeatedly pushed against her twitching rectum which, in the heat of the moment, didn’t disturb me in the least.
But slowly my air grew short, and it occurred to me that I was the prey instead of the two. But that wasn’t the plan. I pushed Lisa away and heaved Claudia out of the saddle also. As I lay under them, both girls had been entwined kissing each other and disengaged unwillingly. I took them to a towel-covered place beside the pool and had them kneel so that they presented me their bums and the view of the aroused, twitching, and wetly glistening slits.
So first I penetrated Lisa which elicited a moan. Claudia’s vulva became a keyboard of lust for my right hand, and I was able to play a nice tune on it. Then Claudia got close to Lisa and began to caress and massage her dangling boobs in concert with each of my thrusts. Between the two of us, we soon had Lisa going over, and she showed me with a bucking, twitching and loudly-moaning female body just what lust waves could do to it during an orgasm. Lisa sank gasping forward as I grabbed Claudia, positioned her, and similarly thrust my shaft into the moist pouch of her mons veneris.
Lisa, slowly recovering, wanted to show her friend her gratitude and hitched herself on her back under Claudia so that she could reach the latter’s slit even as I drilled it. At the same time, she reached above and played with Lisa’s behind, pushed the cheeks apart, and pushed a finger deep in Claudia’s twitching rectum. Each time I thrust my organ into Claudia’s vagina I could feel that finger—separated only by thin muscle and skin tissue—massage me. Claudia’s head had disappeared between Lisa’s spread thighs, and one did not need to be a psychic to know what she was doing there.
Claudia was also soon beyond the point of no return, and I could feel by the contractions around my stiff, hard rod what pleasure we had elicited in Claudia.
By this time I neither could nor wished to hold back. My thrusts became harder and more demanding and soon I erupted with a loud groan into the wildly bucking Claudia.
For a while I lay breathing heavily on the girl, and then I got up and invited them both into my bar. There we drank the promised nightcap. For my prey in the true sense of the word. For shortly after they had drunk, the drug began to work, and I had two deeply sleeping, already naked roasts lying by my bar.
I dragged them to the cell located next to my test kitchen and bound them there on a cot. Of course I had to arrange the cell for two, but one manages when one has such luck as I had had this evening.
After I had disposed of their clothing and everything else they had brought, and removed all traces of them, I went to bed and slept in the happy anticipation of what was to come.
Yesterday, on Sunday, I forced myself not to take my prey immediately. No, they needed to eliminate the drug from their bodies. So I slept in myself, and, yes—I confess—masturbated in anticipation of what was to come. I fantasized the whole day how my prey animals were going to react when I let them know their fate.
Unfortunately, today I had to conduct firm business almost all day. Finally, this evening, I have the time I need. But before I turn my attention to my prey, I wanted to take the time to confide my evening’s success to you, dear Diary. Now on to new deeds. So later, dear Diary.
To Be Continued
If you liked this check out my other posts!
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Art of Hunting People at Night
Massacres: Guide to Maximizing Your Kill Count
The Basics of Terminating Human Life
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An Introduction to: Interrogation Techniques
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