Blue Sea, Green Earth, Red Sky

Having tinted her flesh from above her knees to her waist, I returned to run the thick of my thumb up between her pussy lips, tracing my way with a slow, left hand up to her hard twat. Maribeth responded to my intimate palpitations of her awakened girly parts with a quavering moan. My stroking of the underside of her juicy clit brought her into convulsions. Her legs strained at the ropes around her ankles as she tried to encircle me, flexing against the knots holding her arms. Maribeth had no freedom in her arms and only a few inches of latitude in her legs. The confines of my ropes forced her muscles to work with a hard frustration, focusing her carnal intensity into her vaginal muscles. Maribeth screamed and yanked as I rubbed slow, firm circles around her aching sexberry.

Her rapid breathing betrayed her imminent climax. In a tormenting tease, I backed off, leaving her hips rattling with unfulfilled desire and her pussy begging for penetration that was denied. I let the girl wither into a cool and unsatisfied state as I set the ultramarine blue paint aside.

Picking up the frisky whiskey bottle, I mixed it with my phthalo green paint. "Shall we explore the earth goddess region?" I asked the blue-legged woman tied to my table. Maribeth was motionless as I cut the whiskey into the green dab with my fingers. Answering my own question, "Then again, I guess you don't have a choice do you, my heathen earth goddess?" This made the girl wiggle her hips a little as if to say, 'come and take me'.

Starting at her navel with three coated fingers, I rubbed slow circles around her belly's center, spiraling outward to cover more and more of her soft skin with the goopy green. "I think green is your color," I told her as I worked my paint job across her lower ribs. Maribeth made a "Hmm" sound, keeping her eyes closed.

I noticed her hips rocking in rhythm to the circular gyrations of my hands inching up her torso. Maribeth's subtle, involuntary motions indicated that she had some pent-up desires trying to work their way out from her sexually heated core. As a self-confessed sensual and needy woman, I indulged the girl's sensual needs, slipping my left hand into her succulent cleft and toying with her pink petals. Bumping against her bean, I explored her protruding button, rolling a couple of fingers over and around the petite princess peeking out from behind her hooded folds.

The fingering excited Maribeth. She started bucking and testing the ropes that held her tight while I had my way with her. I pressed her accelerator with my thumb, letting my fingers enter her holy hollow where I pushed deep, bathing my hand in her natural lubricant as I searched for her G-spot. Maribeth's lips were uttering delicious, sweet moans, her sex muscles were convulsing, gripping my inserted hand with hungry hugs as she thrust toward me as if to devour all of me with her vagina, starting with my left hand.

Withdrawing my hand, I left her feminine void begging to be filled as I focused my fingers back on her hot clit. I continued my body painting, working my hand up to her left breast. Her nipples were plump and perfect. Jutting heavenward, her nips were altars standing erect and magnificent atop a pair of sacred high places. My right palm, pushed into her soft mound where I cupped her in my hand, squeezing her ripened fruit into a fistful of pleasure. My fingers left a trail of phthalo green as they climbed the left titty. Reaching the summit, they smeared the gooey color over half her chest, returning to her proud pillar to give it a good, hard squeeze.

An electric jolt shot through her. The hand manipulating her clitoris felt her body seize up and go rigid as her pelvic muscles tightened. Maribeth gave a sharp bark as soon as I gripped her nipple between finger and thumb. Her muscles relaxed and she shuddered, flooding my tabletop with a gush of warm, liquid excitement. I should have suspected that a sensuous and needy girl like this would be a squirter.

The sight and feel of my painted lady strapped to my kitchen table and squirting on my hand almost made me lose my load at that instant. Maribeth's orgasms kept sneaking up on me; I intended to edge her into a high state of anticipation, only to force her to cool down until I mounted her and made her scream, moan and prophesy in the voice of a savage jungle goddess at the height of her orgasms. I had yet to master my technique; these needy women in the music composition department were jumping into their orgasms before I was ready.

I was concerned Maribeth was somehow having all the fun. I feared she might be finished before I got my chance to control her and bring her to the edge myself. I intended to be the one to dominate, fucking her lights out as she fell from the stratosphere, screaming for mercy as I thrust my cock, hard and deep, into her seething flesh pot. I was bursting at the seams to paint her vulva with my throbbing rod. I rushed to mix up a dollop of alizarin crimson to complete my ritual sex composition.

I kicked off my flip-flops, dropped my shorts to my ankles and flung my T-shirt across the room. Loading my fingers with a glop of gaudy red, I smeared her throat. "My colorful captive, you look ravishing," I told her in a husky voice, "and you're about to be ravaged." Leaning into her face as I gripped her ruby throat, I pressed my lips into hers and bit down on her lower lip, just hard enough to assure her she was alive and physically connected to the universe -- just like she told me music majors desired. I opened my teeth, planting a soft kiss on both lips before I finished my painting with a few streaks across her cheeks like war paint and a red dot on her nose.

"Blue sea, green earth and red sky -- you are no paint by number my darling, you are complex and an original. You're my masterpiece. And now I will mount and master your piece."

Maribeth struggled against the ropes, acting like she was taken against her will and forced to lie naked on my table. I let her believe she was once again held hostage for a savage sex-cult hard fucking deep in the jungle. My ropes brough memories of strong jungle vines that forced her into the sex positions that her captors demanded of her. She had no choice. I watched her squirm and understood Maribeth needed to play like she hated the way she really loved being treated. She was a complicated, sensuous and a needy young woman. She was my introduction into the imaginations and cravings of needy artisans.

"Oh. I almost forgot. I still need to add a tiny clit more detail before I smash, bash and thrash into your sacred oracle orifice." Reloading my fingers with the crimson, I stroked Maribeth's innermost thighs, painting her pussy an explosive, hot red, like the bullseye on a target. Working back to rub her twat. Maribeth was primed and painted.

I swabbed my shaft, coating my spear and its bulging tip in red paint. I was aching to throw my hunting spear into Maribeth's red void. I wanted to hear the voice of the Red Sky Goddess speak to me as I humped Maribeth on my kitchen table.

With rough pressure, I dashed against her magic bean, bringing her into a frenzied state of huffing breaths and heated, grinding pleas to be filled full with my wildman meat. Maribeth's eyes rolled back in enchantment, speaking in broken phrases she begged, "Oh god I'm so needy. I need you inside me Marco. Take me right now. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

She was hungry. She was being driven to the edge of the earth's physical plane, teetering on the rim, about to fall into the abyss where her body and soul would be consumed by primitive spiritual forces. Maribeth was losing control of her fevered mind and about to become someone or something, scrambled by a wild, eternal force welling inside her. Maribeth's body and spirit lost control to the mystical force with origins in the deep past, coming into her with the power to move the future. Maribeth's growing pre-orgasmic spasms shook her blue, green and red body as she gasped in halting transcendent moans, chirps and gulps like a woman possessed.

She was in the throes of feminine forces filling her void from another realm. The naked and painted body of the woman before me was only a vessel of sweating flesh, holding beneath its surface a churning brew of carnal desires. I realized that as I looked upon the bared skin, the upturned tits and the vulva leaking girly juice, that I was only seeing a patina covering a greater reality. Beneath the physical flesh, the sexual craving, was an other-worldly mystique that had overcome and captured Maribeth in its clutches.

When it came to ritual fucking a sex goddess, I was green; but I had blue balls and a stiff red-hot rod. I sensed my moment had come. There was a strange force that filled my kitchen, calling me to give in and fall into this mix of sweating flesh and carnal desires resting on my table, Maribeth was a feast for the taking.

The urge to coax the one big, prophetic orgasm out of Maribeth has seized me something fierce. Male and female, flesh and spirit united in a synchronized furry of cravings and madness. I too was out of control, there was something bigger than me forcing events to happen. There was no resistance possible to the all-consuming thing that was compelling us to mate pussy and penis, heart and soul, mind and body, past and future. Maribeth's flowering void quavered. I felt the irresistible call beckoning my manly wand, drawing it into its depths.

I slammed into my table-bound goddess with a steam-powered vengeance. My rope-work had her legs tied back and spread open. Gripping her arching hips, her animal magnetism sucked my steely strut into the dark, watery depths of her feminine crevasse. My first plunge into my target was deep and hard, driving Maribeth and the table to which she was strapped, across the floor. Yanking with both hands clasped to her waist, holding her pale, flared pelvis where it formed a made-for-fucking handhold; I hauled her back to my stiff probe, pumping her besodden opening with rapid hammerings.

Maribeth twisted and flailed as I forced my shaft far into her humid darkness. With every hearty punch, Maribeth sang out in lilting, indiscernible noises. I was ferocious in my fucking, perched on the balls of my feet; I drove deep inside her, forcing her to absorb my repeated cervix-buffeting poundings. I was the key, she was the keyhole; I ran roughshod into her keyhole, working to unlock her inner goddess and release a secret oracle for my hearing. Tumbling from Maribeth's lips came an out-of-body chanting and a string of galloping warbles. Maribeth's sounds were like words spoken by angels.

Stationed between her legs, I reached for her jostling jugs, clamping her buttes with my outstretched fingers, digging the heels of my palm into her hardened nipples. A fiery demon stoked my passion, taking possession of my balls and red-hot poker. The man I was, had dissolved in the fires burning inside, leaving only a raging animal spirit. I growled, clawed, scooped, shoveled and ground my sizzling cock into her wetness. I held my manhood deep inside the woman I had forcibly tied to my table, feeling her strong sex muscles convulse and grapple with my rigid flesh planted inside. The demon within twisted my nuts with a rusty wrench, winding them tight.

The sperm held under pressure within my scrotum, bubbled like magma ready to erupt and rush forth in a river of fire. My churning lava could no longer be contained. I pulled my volcanic loins out of Maribeth's gripping pussy, hurling it back inside her slit with a roar, slapping my balls against her ass as she flooded my pubic hair at the very instant I flooded her chamber with my mortal seed.

Maribeth bowed her back, pulling her bindings tight as she howled in a high-pitched, staccato purging of the sacred feminine intensity that had built hot in her womb. She released a long moan, slumping back onto the tabletop, her agitated lady parts jumping involuntarily, sending tiny pulses of her liquid orgasms dribbling out in fading squirts from her vulva, bathing my lower belly in warm satisfaction.

I stuffed my member hard into her, grinding for a moment before erupting into her nether region a final, parting shot of surreal joy. I massaged her nipples, one green and one red, letting our love fluids drain to the table and drip to the floor, mixing Maribeth's squirted essence and my masculine semen. Our girl and boy juices blended like primary colors on a painter's palette, forming a new, combined creation that was unique, richer than the sum of our two parts.

I grabbed a carving knife, thinking it fitting to release my needy and sensuous captive musical performer by cutting her free rather than merely untying her. Maribeth told me that her type was ruled by strong emotions and craved stimulation of body and soul, explaining that she needed to be tied to her sensory experiences. She needed to be cut free. It was this kind of physical performance element that connected Maribeth to her artistic world.

The exhausted girl moved her arms and legs, but remained on her back for a few moments. Maribeth's goddess-connecting colors of blue, green and red were smeared by sweat and the rubbing together of our naked bodies. I let her rest as her vibrating naughty bits calmed down. Taking her by her hands, I lifted her into a sitting position where she shed the knots around her wrists and ankles. Easing her off the table, I guided her to the shower, where I worked to wash off my newly purchased ultramarine blue, phthalo green and alizarin crimson. She asked me to go easy when soaping up the red I'd applied between her thighs, "I am not as needy now as I was earlier. Thanks. But I am more sensitive down there than I was earlier. It was sort of supernatural for me, but I need you to be sensitive and careful with me now."

I ruined my only two washcloths removing the paint from her skin, but all for a good cause. I toweled her off, enjoying treating her with sensitivity, wiping around her bottom and breasts. Maribeth walked past me out of the bathroom, I grabbed her hand as she stepped into the hall. "Wait Maribeth, I'm the needy one now; I need to know how I should interpret your oracle from this afternoon?"

Maribeth looked over her shoulder, gave me a smile but kept her counsel, walking around the corner to search for her clothes. I followed her, asking, "What can you tell me about the meaning of a number nerd being forced to integrate into the world of art folks? I'd hope you'd have an answer for me, I'd hoped you would be my private oracle."

She remained silent, gathering her skirt and knife-slit panties off the floor. She turned and looked at me from under heavy eyes, approached me and pushed me so that I fell back into a chair. With a purposeful move, she tossed her gathered garments across the room and curled up in my lap. Maribeth wrapped her hand under my chin, turning my head so that our noses almost touched. She looked into my eyes and smirked, flaring her nostrils in a way that I found to be unbearably cute.

"I warned you Marco, music majors are very needy. We crave stimulation of body, soul and spirit. It's what ties us to the universe and gives us meaning. Without this kind of affirmation I fear I will be disconnected and set adrift in a meaningless world. I need to be tied to my sensory experiences. I'm insecure and needy in this way." She locked onto my eyes with a serious look and nodded her head with the slightest of movement, asking me to confirm that I understood her needs.

I nodded to confirm that I understood that she had entrusted me with her innermost needs and desires. I knew she had been open with me and was vulnerable. I held her trust as a sacred oath, remembering my words as I poured her a beer, promising not to judge her.

Still peering into my soul, she nodded back, as if to say, "Good. Now that you understand me, I will trust you with all of me." She pressed her nose onto mine, then backed off. "Marco, I have some complicated needs. You listened to me and fulfilled my needs. It is no coincidence that you just bought those painting supplies. I needed you to hear me, to understand my depths and to take me and use me the way you did. You were quite handy with those blues, greens and reds." She kept her big, dark eyes open, drilling into me with her stare as she bumped into my nose again to make physical contact.

"You know Marco, I'd love to see what you could do with orange, yellow and purple."

I waited a moment, pressing my nose into hers. "Why Maribeth, I could find inspiration in purple. My adventures into the art world have transformed me. Painting with purple might just inspire me to become a one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple pussy eater."

Maribeth had a small smirk creep across her tight lips. She placed her other hand on my cheek, holding my head with both hands, she whispered, "This is my oracle for you Marco: Speaking for the goddess within me; Marco, I see a future for you, the mathematician, where you connect with warmth and passion to the needy performing arts types. Underneath that dominant brain mass of yours you have an artistic heart; and under your heart you have a tool that paints a masterpiece - that I know."

Our noses touched once again as our lips pressed hard together for the first time. A long, passionate kiss sealed our connection. Flesh and spirit joined, need and fulfillment balanced, music composition and equations united; we and our worlds were one.

I had a feeling that we were bound to be tied together for a long time.