Mariko dips, lifts, spills.
An inkei 1forms.
The protrusion, engorged and dark, extends from paper. Her lowered lips suck, tongue coils. Black ink swirls into hair and cum jewels.
She tastes salt and swallows the throbbing.
Swift strokes, the brush paints legs, hands, a face.
He rises. A kami, a god.
Mariko gasps.
His painted lines, ripple and swell. Pinching, teasing, entering, growing.
Spurting.
Thick flowing.
He pins Mariko like a butterfly to the floor and she moans, shudders, twists. Fingers in her hair, bracing, arching, releasing wetness until exhausted.
She awakes satisfied and he sleeps on the paper, beside her.
This writing first published in Dark Rose Press. 12/22 Worlds Apart Anthology