It was a portrait of anger and abuse and violence. For all that the flames lept around her body, it was obvious that the woman was not the victim. She...was the perpetrator.The screen changed again to my most recent painting of Kelly. Still not a photographic portrait. Somehow, in fact, this image was less related to the woman herself and more to the dreamlike attachment to the male beneath her. In neither of the two portraits were the faces of the women visible. But the second portrait was about. I gently nibbled on her neck getting a light moan from her. I pulled out and watched my cum drip out of her ass. I placed her on the bed with her legs spread. I licked her cunt tasting her and my brother. I slowly kissed my way up her body till i got to her breasts and i sucked on it like a baby… I looked up into her eyes; i then grabbed my cock and thrust all the way in. She gasped as i slammed it home, then moaned as i sat there enjoying the warmth of her pussy around my cock. I started. More

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