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Drawing on the Dark Side of the Brain

29
With My Teeth in Your Heart

I WOKE UP with my cock wedged up against the cheeks of the world’s most beautiful butt. Not that I’ve seen every butt in the world, but I couldn’t think of anything more beautiful than this one.

After we’d brushed our teeth, Sarah Lynn and I peeled Mary out of her body stocking. Then we cocooned ourselves in bed with the blonde beauty sandwiched between us. When Mary stopped shaking, she got active. I got the most explosive two-girl blowjob I’d ever had—and with my living arrangement, I’d experienced playful girls teaming up on me before. Mary and Sarah Lynn were exploring each other as well as me and doing their best to delay my orgasm. When the inevitable came—me—they managed to swallow down everything I spewed out, licking up the spatters from each other’s faces.

Before I could flag, Sarah Lynn mounted my cock and about a second after she was seated, Mary lowered her exquisite pussy with the clit hood piercing onto my mouth. We were pretty frantic in our lovemaking. Both girls were primed and I wasn’t sure how many orgasms they were having. I know I felt fingers join my tongue to pull at Mary’s piercing and there was a hand wedged into the space where Sarah Lynn and I were joined. I was just along for the ride of my life. Eventually, we were all exhausted. I reluctantly pulled my tongue out of Mary’s pussy as she slid down between Sarah Lynn and me. There were shared post-coital kisses and we spooned together.

My waking in the morning wasn’t the first. Sarah Lynn had rolled to face Mary and the girls’ boobs were pressed tightly together as they kissed and their fingers worked their pussies. That caused a gentle rocking against my cock and I joined in. It was active and I was thinking I might slip down far enough to slide into our lover. Everything seemed to be well-lubed and I was gliding between her cheeks. I wasn’t sure I’d have time to penetrate, though, as I was getting incredibly close to an explosion. We were all going to need a shower soon.

Whether it was me going too deep or Mary thrusting too high, the tip of my cock caught and wedged in her asshole. She gasped and clamped down. That triggered it, but she’d pinched the head of my cock and the passage was so tight it was almost painful to spray the pressurized contents of my balls into the little opening. Both girls screamed and there was a fluttering of her asshole that resulted in another strong spurt before she pulled away.

“Oh, God! I’m more than willing to fuck you, Jett, but don’t go in there! At least, don’t go any farther in there. That was pretty intense. Wow!”

“Did he pop your anus?” Sarah Lynn cried. “Jett!”

“It was an accident. And I didn’t really go inside. You have powerful butt muscles, Mary.”

“Yeah. Well, that was… intense. I guess I said that, but it was so… intense.”

“What happened?” Sarah Lynn asked.

“You know how when a guy comes in you, sometimes you can feel his cock pulsing at your vaginal opening and rarely you think you can feel his come in your cootch. For me, anyway, I’m usually too far gone in my own orgasm to be aware of what he’s spraying. That’s why I enjoy giving a blowjob now and then. There’s something about being able to actually feel the pulses and spurts in your mouth. This was a lot like that. He shot his load through the most sensitive part of my asshole and it was just intense. I could feel every spurt entering my body. And now my body is thinking it has to eject what entered through the exit. But it was… wow!”

“Come on. We’ll grab a quick shower and make sure you’re cleaned out before the other girls hit the bathroom. Jett can go downstairs. Maybe after your shower you could make some bacon. Could you, honey?” Sarah Lynn asked as she kissed me and moved my new girlfriend toward the upstairs bath. I had to laugh, Sarah Lynn said she’d even give up men to have Mary. I didn’t think that would be necessary.

“Yeah. If bacon is what my lovers want, bacon they shall have. I suppose I’d better make enough for everyone.”

“You know how that smell wakes everyone up!”

THE ONLY PERSON in the house who wasn’t excited about bacon was Char. And it wasn’t that she was vegetarian. Her father had blatantly abandoned everything Hindu except the idea that he could sell off his daughter, apparently. So, she was raised in a meat-eating household. With her own renewed interest in the religion, she was evaluating what she ate and we’d talked about the humane killing of food when I went to the slaughterhouse. So, there was nothing specific that she felt banned her from eating bacon, but she just didn’t like pigs. Different strokes for different folks.

I sat with Char Wednesday evening and showed her some of the sketches I’d done of unleashing her monster. She got very excited over the ones that were more monster-like and less animal-like. I’d started out thinking I’d do a snarling wolf or something like that. She liked the ones that were truly otherworldly.

“And blood,” she said. “I should show the spirit of Kali. She’s the destroyer of evil forces and is often pictured with a bloody head in one of her hands and her tongue hanging out. She is the dark one.” I was getting a bit of education about Hinduism as Char explored further. I wasn’t really sure how much faith she put in the various gods. She certainly wasn’t following a specific doctrine. But she’d made a little shrine to Shiva on one corner of the buffet in the dining room and had a batik of Ganesha for a window blind in the bathroom. No one seemed to mind when these little touches showed up. Kali wasn’t a stretch.

I remembered Char talking about eating her father’s organs in her dark fantasy and it reminded me of a phrase in Medea that I’d nearly passed up. Of course, I had to re-read the whole damn play before I found it. Fortunately, that only takes an hour or less. I found the quote the next morning and checked with Merck after class to see what he thought.

“In many ways, that summarizes exactly what Euripides was trying to get across. Women were—still are—a little frightening. Sure, a man took pleasure from mating, but a woman created life inside herself, raised it, and nurtured it. That’s why Medea says, ‘I would rather take sword and shield into battle three times over than give birth to one child.’ Euripides paints a picture here and in The Bacchae of women who are the frightening monsters of men’s nightmares. Go with it.”

My sketches took on a bloodier aspect as the monster I would paint held a bloody heart in its maw.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON would be when we started the painting. I was taking the weekend off work to do the three massive projects. I didn’t know how long it was going to take me to paint Char. She’d agreed—requested—demanded—to have me use the permanent body paints except on her face. That meant we didn’t have to complete everything in one sitting. I had no objections at all to having Char naked with me for a few days.

Jas took on the responsibility of making sure the canvas was prepared, so to speak. She bathed Charmaine and shaved her bare below the neck. Char usually trimmed her bush enough to wear sexy panties or a swim suit but seeing her pussy completely bald was breathtaking. Her legs were smooth and silky. And when I managed to tear my eyes away from her snatch, I discovered that she’d plucked her eyebrows bare as well. On the other hand, her hair hung below her shoulders and was puffed out to form a black halo around her face.

I had prepared a more literal canvas, blocking out the general area where the monster would emerge from the darkness of the goddess. In the Athena project, Eva had seemed to simply step off the canvas. This time I intended that the monster emerging from Char would interact with the monster on the canvas, a sort of mirror image. Char joined me and we started working. All we managed to get done before Ariel’s stir-fry dinner was generally blocking in the background fields.

Mary was working in another corner of the studio. She’d set her still life up again and was focused on adding detail to her drawing. I wouldn’t even get started on mine until Sunday. I surreptitiously glanced over to see if she was getting herself off while drawing, but she was wearing a full bodystocking that had no crotch openings. Those things had to be a real pain when she needed the bathroom.

After dinner, we worked for another two hours. The face of the monster was beginning to emerge on Char’s chest. I slept with her that night, not even cognizant of where Mary slept. Char pressed her ass against my cock until I was buried inside and we attempted to sleep that way. It didn’t work. Neither of us could hold still when we were connected like that and she cried out an orgasm as I flooded her dark passage. We tried to stay connected after, but as soon as we stopped moving and started to fade toward sleep, I softened and fell out. In the morning, Char got me plugged back in for another round. Usually, her ass could only take one drilling about every week or ten days.

“As often as we can this weekend,” she whispered. “I want to feel the connection. Your hands will paint the monster on my body. Your cock will fill me with the monster inside.”

And Saturday, the monster took shape.

EVERYONE SEEMED TO AGREE that this was Char’s weekend. Even when Eva came over to run the video camera while Kelly was at work, she didn’t attempt to take any focus off Char.

“If you fuck him in that paint, he might not survive,” she whispered to Char.

“We each have our own expression of desire and intent,” Char said. “Jett found yours and revealed it in Athena. He’s found mine in the monster. This might just be what I need to purge it from my soul.”

And I fucked her ass again that night. Twice.

SUNDAY MORNING, the painting on Char was finished but I had a lot of work yet to go on the canvas. Unfortunately, I had other projects to work on and I needed to put a slab of meat on the table for my drawing project. I had fresh vegetables for the arrangement and had polished the kettle, the marble cutting board, and my knives. In my experimenting, I discovered that a slightly higher angle worked well, as if painted from the perspective of the chef leaning over the counter to prepare the stew. That meant I could have liquid in the kettle which gave both additional reflection and distortion to the cut potatoes and carrots I put in the kettle to start.

It took about two minutes for the meat I cut to bleed onto the marble. It was important to me to capture the difference in tone of the different reflections I was composing. Broth in the pot reflected differently than blood on the marble which was different than the steel of my cleaver.

To complicate matters, the heat went off as soon as the temperature outside reached our first frost. Of course, no one was coming out on Sunday to check the furnace. We all had sweatshirts and long pants on. Char was most upset since she hadn’t put clothes on at all after the paint dried. When it got too cold for her to run around naked, she dressed in a beautiful outfit her mother sent her. It had baggy harem pants and a mid-thigh tunic in a colorful fabric. She said it was called a Patiala salwar suit. It was sexy as hell.

I still had my cutting glove on and was moving pieces of meat around with the tip of my cleaver when someone started pounding on the front door. It didn’t sound friendly. I headed out of the studio as Kelly came charging in, dressed for work. She grabbed the video camera we’d been using to record Charmaine’s body art and followed me to the door with it running.

I opened the front door and a large dark man, obviously Indian, practically knocked me over as he charged in. He was followed by two younger men. Shit! This could only be Char’s father and brothers.

“Rajani! I’ve had enough. Where are you?”

He started into the house and I braced myself to block him. One of the younger guys pulled a knife and waved it at me to get out of the way.

I’m not a really physical guy. I’m in good shape from tossing around animal carcasses at work, but I’m sure not a fighter. I’m a meat cutter. And I know about knives.

The guy was not prepared for me to reach out and grab his knife by the blade, twist, and break it off. Cheap Chinese steel. Buy American, dude. Of course, if I didn’t have my cutting glove on, that little move would have put me in the hospital with a whole bunch of stitches and nerve damage in my hand. Like the other guy. Seeing his partner disarmed, younger guy number two—I assumed they were Charmaine’s brothers—drew a knife as well. Before he got the blade all the way open, I stuck the broken blade clutched in my gloved hand through the back of his knife hand. His knife fell to the floor.

“Get out of our way,” bellowed Char’s father. “I want my daughter and I want her now.”

“Go to hell!” Charmaine yelled as she pounded down the stairs and into the living room. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You’re my daughter and you’ll do what I say!” He lunged past me and grabbed hold of the sleeve of her tunic. Char jerked away from him so fiercely that the sleeve ripped right off.

“Aahh! You want to rip my clothes off, you foul dirty man? Let me help you!” I think they call it hysterical strength. Char grabbed the neck of her tunic and ripped it down the front. She tore it off and Mr. Gupta fell back a step. Her brothers gasped. I swear the monster on her chest came to life. “I am not your daughter! I am my mother’s vengeance on a pitiful greedy little thief. I will never submit to you. Think how you’d explain the dead body of the husband you sold me to. Think how you’d explain the hanging remains of your sons who never learned to stand up to you for anything decent. And think how you’d beg of me to finish killing you as I devour your liver in front of your eyes. Come near me or my family again and I will kill you!”

Her chest was heaving as Char worked herself up in a rage. Mr. Gupta was fixated on her chest.

“Tattoo! Rakshasa! You have become a demon!” He backed away, pushing his sons toward the door. He just kept pointing at her and gibbering.

“Tell me, how does it feel with my teeth in your heart!” she screamed. “I am coming for what is mine. I will sever the head from the body that opposes me. Flee for your life, old man! I am coming for you!”

Char’s father and brothers fled. I thought for a moment that she’d actually chase them. She took two steps toward the door and then collapsed on her knees. We swarmed around to give her support as she continued to scream through the open door at the retreating figures of her father and brothers.

It took a few minutes to get things settled down. Char stood up and pushed the Punjabi trousers off her hips. They fell to the ground and she stepped out of them before she turned and grabbed my head to drag me down for a kiss that sucked the air out of my lungs.

“Take me to bed and fuck me. Now, Jett! I’m through preserving the virgin out of fear of my father.”

“Char…”

“I don’t owe you anything anymore! I’ve slain my own monster. Now fuck me!”

EVA HAD WARNED CHAR in jest that if she fucked me with this paint on I might not survive. I was a little concerned about that myself.

The painting started on Char’s pussy lips. I suppose it’s a cliché, but sex is the seat of a woman’s power. Most men—and some other women—will do anything for the gift that lies between a woman’s legs. And it is the home of the miracle of life. The seed goes in that hole and the fruit of the woman’s labor comes out of it. A child. We are fascinated by it, thrilled by it, turned on by it, and frightened of it. No other thing in the universe can so completely cripple a man to its service.

So, the smoke arises in gray wisps from the lips of her temple. Wisps float randomly to curl around her sides, but before the gray smoke reaches her navel, scaly legs emerge—a kind of Lamia, the child-eating monster of Greek mythology. The monster was inside, painted with a degree of transparency in the lower section so it looked like it was near the surface of her skin. But, of course, the real focus was between her breasts where the head of the monster broke through her skin with her heart in its mouth and blood dripping from the wound. I’d abandoned the idea of an animal like a wolf emerging. This had humanoid features distorted into a mask of rage with fangs in the meat of the heart and eyes that bugged out of a sloping forehead. The words Char had thrown at her father were the quote from Medea when she flaunts the dead children at Jason. “Tell me, how does it feel with my teeth in your heart!”

Let’s just say that it was a frightening, ugly, beautiful piece of art. And when Char descended on me, it looked like I would be devoured.

She was passionate. Dominant. Demanding. Loving. When she lined herself up over my straining penis and slammed down, I bent before breaking through an incredibly rigid barrier. Blood flowed from our joining like the tears from our eyes. I tried to move and adjust myself so I wasn’t causing so much pain, but Char held me tightly forcing me deeper still.

We both had to overcome the pain. Char’s hymen was thick and tough. Breaking it had hurt both of us. While we lay there recovering, we began to kiss and the kissing got other parts moving. Before long, we were thrusting and picking up speed. The muscular inside of Char’s vagina grabbed at my cock and molded to its shape, holding me snugly as I pulled out and pushed back in. Before long, joy had replaced the pain as we pounded our sex together and mounted to a pinnacle of lust that swept us into oblivion.

I woke with Char’s weight fully on top of me. Char isn’t fat, but she’s a big girl. It’s not like waking up with Ariel or Kelly on me. I couldn’t bear to push her away, so I rolled until we were side-by-side and my cock slipped from her folds. She opened her eyes with a drawn-out moan.

“I said that if my pussy felt better than having you fuck my ass, I might die. I did.”

“Me, too. But we lived through it. That was incredible, Char. I love you.”

She pulled at me and continued to roll until I was on top of her.

“Kill me again, Jett. Kill me again.”

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