Naked Portraits Pt. 01

"I'm gonna have a talk with aunt Greta," Betty said.

Uncharacteristically, Misty covered her mouth and giggled like a girl.

Still looking at the painting, Betty pulled her cell phone from her pocket then left the room.

Misty and I shrugged and went back to work on the sushi tray. Misty picked the grilled eel and I hit the salmon roe. I took the moment to give Misty the once over. She wore makeup and her hair was down instead of her usual no nonsense ponytail and most remarkably, she wore a dress; a blue one up to mid-thigh. Misty was quietly good looking and would give Betty a run for her money if she chose to but, like me, she found the girlie grooming thing a waste of time.

"You look nice tonight. Going on a date later?" I asked.

"Went on one before the party, that's why all the war paint," Misty said as she bit into her grilled eel.

"Really? With who?" I asked, intrigued.

"Too soon to tell, don't wanna jinx it."

Betty returned and I enlisted her aid in grilling Misty for her new boyfriend's name. But the chick was too tough and wouldn't give in so we were forced to talk about other things like Betty's weird Aunt Greta and the Fernandez cousins. Eventually, Betty and I got to griping about school. In particular, I complained about an advanced world history class that I had signed up for with a book list several hundred dollars long.

"What was I thinking when I sighed up?" I groused. "I don't need any more history credits for my masters."

"Because the class is hip and the teacher, Professor Piedmont, is super hot," Betty said. "I took the class my first year of grad."

"Is the teacher as hot as Jeff Goldblum?" Misty asked. Both Betty and I gave her a look. "Jeff Goldblum is hot. I'd fuck him," she said in drunken defense.

"Anyway..."Betty said with raised eyebrows, "I still have all my books from the class. You can have them."

It was a given that I'd get her hand-me-down books. Money was never a problem for Betty of course and she certainly didn't need to stand in line to get the shameful 25% (or less) buy back for her text books to help pay for the next semester's load.

Getting free books was a tiny blip in Betty's generosity toward me. Last semester, she paid for all of my art supplies when things got tight. Because of my Japanese sensibilities, I tried to pay her back but she always refused to take money. Betty takes advice from her father about friends and generosity; if you can afford to lend your friends money, give it to them and you'll stay friends forever.

I'll have to say though that Betty was never shy about claiming my art as payment. If she ever showed an interest in anything I was doing, she would simply claim it as her property regardless of what my plans for the piece was. She has the largest single collection of my art going back to the first grade. In fact, the walls of her Waikiki apartment were a retrospect of my art career. She called me her long-term investment and plans on selling the collection on eBay after I make it big or at least die in a scandalous, unspeakable way worthy of a tabloid.

Betty led Misty and me to her bedroom to search for the books. On the way I thanked her several times over; the books would save me a couple of hundred dollars, easy. Betty waved off my thanks as she opened her closet door.

"They're in one of these," she said pointing at several bankers boxes with lids. "Some of the boxes are Hawk's. They're kind of mixed up with mine and nothing is labeled. He's storing them here until his housing is cleared for the session." Betty picked up a box and plopped it on the bed.

"Is his name really Hawk?" Misty asked as she sat heavily on the bed.

"It's short for Hawking," Betty said. "His parents named him after the famed physicists Stephen Hawking, a personal friend of Hawk's father apparently. His full name is Hawking Detrick Heinz but he goes by Hawk Detrick only. He said he wanted separation from the famous name. His grandfather hung with Einstein and his mom is a big shit at NASA."

"Why isn't Hawk Ketchup Heinz here at the party?" Misty asked.

Betty laughed.

"He's on Maui judging a surfing competition. Aha!" Betty exclaimed and held a book out for me to see. It sported the daunting title of Norway's Contribution to the European Economy and the Strengthening of the Euro.

"Wow, exciting," I said with as little enthusiasm as I could muster.

"Give a hand lazy ass," Betty said as she dove back into the box looking for more books.

I picked the nearest banker box and plopped it on the bed. Crudely drawn on the lid in black marker was a skull and crossbones.

"Arrr," Misty growled like a pirate as I pulled off the lid. "What the fuck?" Misty exclaimed seconds later when she saw that my box was full of porno movies; some were VHS tapes but most were DVDs.

Misty pulled a large, gaudy VHS movie box out and said, "Do they still make VHS movies?" She read the movie title aloud. "The Cum Palace, 100 Facial Cum Shots." Under the title on the front cover was a naked smiling blonde woman on her knees and a man holding his erection inches from her face. Misty flipped the box over and the same blonde from the front was shown covered from hairline to chin in sperm. "Yuck!" Misty barked and dramatically dropped The Cum Palace down on the bed.

With drunken fascination, I pulled out a handful of DVDs and read each title aloud, "Best of Butt Fuckers 4, Battle of the Blondes, The Best of Peter North Facials, All Asian Fuck Fest." I peered into the box and there must have been close to fifty DVDs in it.

"This is freaky. Are these yours?" I asked, knowing full well that they had to be Hawk's. Betty's face turned bright red.

"Of course not!" she said. Brusquely, she snatched the DVDs from my hands, flung them back into the box, slapped the cardboard lid with the skull and cross bones down and placed the box back in the closet with more force then was necessary.

Betty was clearly upset but because of the wine, I didn't get how upset so I stupidly said, "The guy's obviously a freak."

Betty gave me a hard, serious look that shut me up.

"I'll search for the books. You two go back to the party," Betty said. It was a command and not a request. I quickly left the room with drunken Misty in tow.

As I dragged her out Misty said, "The Best of Butt Fuckers 4 sounded intriguing." I shushed her and shoved her along. She laughed and added, "Poor Hawk ketchup guy, he is gone."

I had to agree and felt guilty since it was my fault, albeit indirectly, that his porn stash was discovered. My odd little dream with Hawk earlier today surfaced in my head giving me an unexpected shiver of excitement, making me wonder at my general state of mind. A few minutes later, Betty approached me with a stack of textbooks.

"Here you go," she said with a cheer that didn't touch her eyes. In a low voice so that others wouldn't overhear, she said, "I need to tell you something."

I waited with my best neutral look, which was quite an achievement considering the amount of wine I had drunk. She looked into my eyes and didn't say anything for what seemed like forever. Suddenly her eyes started tearing up.

She has been absolutely weird today. Showing up at the figure painting studio was certainly out of character. And actually painting after all these years totally blew me away. Then coaxing me to pose naked and then practically getting naked herself? Well, actually those last two things weren't so unusual. She was always getting me to do stupid things like that and she could never pass up a chance to be shocking. But that crazy phone call about the kiss was out of the blue. Now this shit of finding out her beautiful surfer boyfriend was a porn addict couldn't possible sit well with her. And I would bet Diamond Head Crater that something was up with mama Camille too. Betty was tough and could take anything life threw at her, even crap from her domineering mother. But all of this at once? Her tears truly alarmed me.

"What's going on?" I asked softly.

She covered her eyes with one hand and after a bit more silence said, "Please don't mention the movies to anyone. I don't need this getting back to my mother."

That was it? She was afraid I would tell her mother?

"Betty, I promise not a word, but lighten up, it's no big deal. Guys watch porn. It's a fact of nature and it's kind of funny I think." I said to reassure her, trying to keep my voice low but the alcohol made it near impossible.

Several glasses of wine later, I sat on the living room sofa talking to a pudagee guy named Greg. I was too drunk to fully follow what he was saying. I think he had mentioned he was a musician? Or a plumber? Either way, he was pretty to look at so I kept nodding as he rattled on. My last thought was that this guy was getting lucky tonight then the next thing I knew, I was strapped in the passenger seat of Betty's car.

"Did I fall asleep?" I asked.

"You passed out with your face in some guy's lap."

We pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building. This proved that she was really pissed at me because I would usually spend the night at her place after a party.

Too wasted to get out of the car or do the stairs to get to my apartment, Betty had to help me every step of the way. She even helped to undress me then poured me into my bed. I opened my eyes briefly and saw a woman standing in the doorway of my room. She was Asian, slim, pretty wearing a baseball cap.

Was she a friend of my roommate?

"Who are you?" I asked.

The woman sat at my side and pushed my hair from my face tenderly. With a kind but sad smile she spoke.

"You are about to start the adventure of a life time."

*****

I sat up with a start and looked around my darkened bedroom in a panic for a woman in a ball cap. For some reason I was positive it was the same woman I saw in the parking lot of Suntory's. But there was no one in the room. It was just another stupid dream.

Since I only had on panties, I slipped on a random shirt and went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. I peeked into Nora's room on the way to the kitchen and saw that she was still out, probably spending the night at her boyfriend's place.

Craving something salty and fatty, I staggered to the icebox. As I perused the contents of the fridge, it occurred to me that I wasn't hung over. With the amount of wine I had drunk tonight, I should feel like the walking dead.

"Brains," I said in my best imitation of a flesh-eating zombie as I bit into a cold KFC chicken leg. With a plate of chicken and a tall glass of apple juice in hand, I sat on the sofa and clicked on the TV.

Mindlessly, I watched a workout infomercial with a couple of hot guys in tight outfits demonstrating workout equipment and surprisingly, it was turning me on. Craving naked man flesh, I hunted the premium channels but found nothing worthy so I went to the pay channel menu and picked a promising movie titled Confessions of a Male Stripper.

Ten minutes into the movie I knew I had picked a loser. Except for one attractive guy, the men in the movie were below average in looks and the one good looking guy wasn't even the star. It was apparent the movie was hardcore porn edited for cable which meant that all the interesting sex was edited out making it even more stupid.

"That was a waste of four bucks," I complained. Betty's boyfriend's porn stash danced through my head. "I'm sure there was something interesting in that box to see," I said aloud as I continued watching below average looking male porn stars pretending to be sexy male strippers. My studious Japanese side forced me to watch longer then the movie deserved because I didn't want to waste the money I had paid for this turkey. But finally I hit my saturation point and declared, "To the internet," and clicked off the TV.

I went straight to my roommate's room because her computer was far better than the hand-me-down piece of shit in my room. Three minutes later I floated on the World Wide Web. A movie from the box, 100 Facial Cumshots, surfaced in my head, prompting me to Google facial cumshots just to see what I'd get. To my amazement, more than one million results were found. I clicked on a site named Horny Dog Licks that claimed to have the best facial movies online and, not surprisingly, the site's mascot was a cartoon dog licking itself.

Filtering past the endless ads for Viagra, penis enlarging devises and horny girls living in Downtown Honolulu looking for some guy to fuck tonight, I came upon an alphabetized, categorized listing of every possible sexual situation one could imagine. You name it and it was there. I scrolled through listings for Asian amateurs, ass fucking, blondes, big tits, bondage, chained housewives, drunken cheerleaders, ebony ass and countless more. In the 'P's', a listing titled Peter North Facial caught my attention. I recalled that one of Hawk's movies was dedicated to this Peter North guy.

I clicked on Peter North Facial and a still of a naked blonde woman with a pretty face and big boobs kneeling on a wooden floor popped up. Below the still were the words 'Peter North facializes blonde.'

Is facializes even a word? I wondered as I clicked on the still.

The media player kicked in and the movie clip started up with a close up of the woman smiling up at the camera. A man with an above average erection in his hand stepped into the scene. They never showed the guy's face so I had to assume that it was Peter North. The beautiful blonde on her knees begged North to come on her face. The sound of North's breathing moved in rhythm with his hand sliding along his stiff erection. It wasn't the biggest penis I had ever seen in a movie. One of the two porn movies I had seen previously had a guy in it named John Holmes. Now that was a big dick.

With no warning, a huge rope of semen leaped from North's penis, taking the blonde by surprise, causing her to yelp. In seconds, the woman's face was zigzagged with white liquid streaks.

"Yuck," I exclaimed in gross fascination. The same scene started up again but this time in slow motion. The facialized (if the word facializes is a word then facialized has to be one too) blonde held a small, closed mouth smile throughout the process. When the slow-motion deluge was over, the woman's smile bloomed into a full, toothy grin. Her eyes met the camera as it zoomed back to give the viewer a good look at Mr. North's handiwork. The camera didn't miss the fact that a fair amount of semen peppered the woman's full breasts.

I couldn't believe that all of that stuff came out of one guy.

"It had to be fake," I said as I clicked on another North clip. This time, a slim, dark haired girl knelt at North's feet. (Again, I had to assume it was North although it did look like the same penis from the first clip, that much I could tell.) I watch as North drenched the woman's face with seven huge shots of semen. As he milked the last dribbles onto the girl's chin, she exclaimed, 'Holy shit!' in what appeared to be genuine astonishment.

For the next hour, I watched all types of women grossly anointed by Mr. North: busty blonds, curvy brunettes, pale redheads with freckles, slim, small breasted women, black girls, Hispanics, Asians, all of them beautiful or pretty. I watched in particular fascination as North ejaculated on the face of a stunningly beautiful Asian girl who held a dubious expression of disbelief throughout the process.

"I'd do the same," I said aloud, squinting in sympathy for the girl. To my amazement though, I was getting turned on as I watched the girl getting blasted.

"When did this become opposite day?" I asked my hormone soaked brain. Stupidly, I came up with a porn movie scenario of my own. In a sexy nightie (which I don't own, I might add) I'd go down the hall and knock on the door of the two college guys living there. One looked like Benjamin Bratt and the other looked like the Asian guy from Lost. (The real guys who lived there were a couple of total geeks but since it was my porn fantasy I got to pick the cast.) I lean in the open doorway and say, "Me so hawny," in that annoying Vietnamese girl's voice from the movie Full Metal Jacket. "You studs, wanna cum on my face?"

Yeah right. That would totally happen. In the real world, we girls are begging guys to come on our faces all the time. Before I got offline, I did the very male thing of deleting my dubious search history. With my electronic tracks covered, I headed to the bedroom for my real world date with my vibrator.

"Sorry college geeks next door," I said aloud.

Too lazy to even break out my vibrator, I lay on the bed and slipped my hands under my panties. As I worked myself to the soft smooth edge of an orgasm, visions of all the Peter North clips filled my head, triggering a dirty thrill that rippled through me like a rock dropped in a scummy pond. Then a really stupid idea formed in my head. Running with it, I slipped off the bed, went to into my bathroom and found my hand cream in its squeezable plastic bottle.

"This is so stuuupid," I said aloud as I slipped into the kitchen and threw open the microwave. As I shut the door, I wondered if the bottle was microwave safe. Two ten second zaps with a vigorous shake seem to do the trick. I figured, to do a proper facial simulation, the sperm substitute had to be close to body temperature.

A sense of kinky urgency took hold of me as I excitedly rushed back to my room. Catching a glimpse of myself in the full length-dressing mirror on my closet door I stopped and slowly undressed like I had a lover in the room. My dark blue t-shirt that serendipitously said Just do it on the front went first. I smoothed my dark, long, brown hair down and looked at myself in white panties. Aside from being a little too pale from spending all my time in my studio, I looked pretty good I felt. I turned my hips to admire my ass. At a party once, a guy told me that I had an ass that could launch a thousand ships. He, of course, had plans of jumping said ass. But I did agree with him that I did have a nice ass, just before I called him a pig and told him to go fuck off. My eyes drifted to my breasts and I instantly wished I had more up top.

Betty, who shared the exact same bust line as me, said I had the perfect figure and I should stop whining or at least marry a rich guy so I can buy my dream pair.

Standing sideways, I slid my panties down then turned to face the mirror full front to admire my recently trimmed bush. I had learned my lesson after my impromptu nude modeling session yesterday. With a seductive expression, I dropped to my knees.

Holding the hand cream in both hands at what I gauged to be penis height, I said in a husky voice, "Cum on my face Mr. North," and squirted out a small jet. Instinctively, I flinched as the warm liquid struck my left cheek under my eye, some of it hitting the corner of my mouth.

"Fucking nasty!" I barked and immediately regretted speaking aloud as more of the stuff got into my mouth, making me spit. I laughed thinking that this is a true reaction to a sperm facial. I spat a couple more times and wiped away the fluid from my face. Let's see the Myth Busters do this one, I thought with a great deal of amusement.

The ice cold splash of reality broke my sleazy spell and I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It was like I was drunk or high and now that the euphoria has worn off, I felt dirty and ashamed. But I didn't let my shame interfere with the humdinger fantasy I concocted with Betty's beautiful, surfer, blond, future ex-boyfriend Hawk...but even in my bloated fantasy, I didn't let him come on my face.