Here Before Me, the Naked Mother of my Seed

I knelt down before her naked pussy and touched her smooth skin. I kissed the pubic area, my lips softly pressing against the shaved hairs. My nose pressed into her belly, I stuck out the tip of my tongue, curled it around her clitoris, and tasted the sweet secretion of her vagina, emphasized by the soft smell of blood from her menstruation. I pulled the swollen tissue out by its string, leaned back and observed the primal cycle that was consumed by the cotton pad she had walked around with all day. Dark clots of blood dropped to the hard-wooden panels of the floor in the living room, smaller parts stuck to the white cotton that dangled between her legs and which was still remarkably clean, given the deluge of blood it was freed from. I became obsessively intrigued at that immediate moment by the primally charged vision of the tissue. It was colored with forgone motherhood, here before me, the naked mother of my seed, receptor of my baby sperm, her swollen breasts and hardened, overly sensitive nipples pointing down upon me, the son, the father.

I spread her legs apart by pressing the backs of my hands against her inner thighs, opening her moist cave. The gate to her essential sexhood opened before me, like the thieves’ den in the story of Ali Baba, and I Kassim enter. I could easily take this citadel of womanhood, with or without force. She has surrendered to the whim of my benevolence or brutality. My heart peacefully pounded, slightly aroused but with calm observation, and I bathed two salving fingers in her wet cunt. The sensation of passing this river is close to entering the bliss of heaven. I can feel the course surface of her womb’s wall with the soft tip of my index and middle finger, which I twist around in slow circles, while I lick her clitoris. My nails scratch against its surface, as I push deeper inside, until my fist presses against her loin. I licked her faster, vibrating my tongue alternatively vertically and horizontally, up and down, sideways and slowly kept fingerfucking her pussy. Every few seconds I looked up and stared at her face, touched her breast and squeezed it with my free hand, looked at the muscles of her abdomen tensioning up and relaxing.

My sexual arousal grew more violent as her wetness increased, stirred to possess more and more of her, to control her body more directly. I pushed a third finger into the shaft of her vagina, warm and wet from blood and moist of her glands, and my other hand’s fingers started playing with her anus at the same time. First, tenderly directing the top of my index finger gently into her asshole at the right, flexible middle of her opening. Then a second finger, up to the first joint, widening her rectum. I licked her violently now, as her stomach jerked, pushing my two fingers deeper down her ass, twisting three fingers against the location of her g-spot. I could taste drops of blood flushing out and reaching my lips, sweet like the sacrament of the body. Nothing ever tasted more like Ophelia as her menstruation blood mixed with the mucus of her vaginal excrement. Not her bitter, salty tears, not the dripping, mineral drops of sweat on her forehead or back, not even the wetness from her pussy as she jerks heavily from her orgasm.

Ophelia was Ophelia. Ophelia in blood. The inner Ophelia, the essence of her. I never could get closer than drinking the sweet, bloody moist of her menstruation, the excretion of her motherhood, stronger than death. I pulled the fingers of both my hands out and looked up at her in utter, existential amazement. I observed my hands, my left hand covered in bloody clothes. I put my right hand fingers inside her and washed both hands in her blood, rubbing my palms against another. Then bloodied her breasts with my hands, and smeared out the red over her chest and belly, cherry like the watery color of her lips. Some clutters of blood stuck here and there as lumps to her skin in a fiercer red, a loving red, a passionate red.

Kneeled before her, admiring the mother goddess, my Gaia Ophelia, I felt as close to her as to be a part of her, forming one whole with the universe around me. What she felt, I felt, even if we were a billion particles apart in space, governed by the same ideas, reflexes and desires, there seemed to be no difference. The lust for her body overwhelmed me, I wanted to possess her, to submit her violently. I stood up and pressed her down to her knees before me, yanking her hair, pulling it in a tail behind her head. I placed my other hand around her throat, tightened my grip of her, and shoved my erection into her mouth. I started to push her head forward and pull it backward repetitively. She sucked the glans, exhaled it. I pulled her head away from me, directing her face upward to me.

‘Look at me!’
She opened her eyes wide as her mouth. I spat in her face, and in a reflex she squeezed all cavities of the face, her head jerked back.

The earth is a body that is raped. Forcefully the flesh is torn, the peal sliced open, the womb impregnated, the fruits reaped without question. The people that leach of the gifts, take without asking, they grow for their own benefit with no interest, without gratitude, without care. The earth is a body that is exhausted, never longing for a rest, being shoved with a brutal push downward, forward, back, and is never sorry for the events that take place.

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