My tongue descends on the furry exterior, darts across and feels the soft delicate skin, our two planes meeting with their unique textures. My mouth encompasses it, the fruit trapped between my lips. I press my lips closer, firmly touching but not bruising my victim, they can't get any tighter. I am gagged with the object of my desires, and I feel the slight furriness, the furriness that always made Sarah wince, on the flesh inside my mouth behind my lips. I see no other way out, so I bite. Hard enough to break the skin, the juices flow inside me. Sweet and tender. I lick the inside. The texture is different, not just wetter. Softer, stringier, more flesh is exposed. A different colour. The wait is over, I just devour. All that is left is its deformed equivalent skeleton- carrying its unborn offspring - another wannabe peach.