Long or maybe not so
long ago sometimes gods and goddesses would fuck each other. This is one of those stories; yes god porn. Kali the destroyer and Krishna the lover.
Krishna meditated on
the banks of a creek high in the Smokey Mountains inhaling the mist off the
water while watching a pair of bears sodomize each other underneath a
waterfall. Krishna burrowed inside his
mind like a picture show his third eye opened hearing the pants of his thousand
wives across the world masturbating to his image. As Krishna was called to do as a Sunday
morning ritual Krishna replicated himself to attend to each wife. Sometimes more than once like a David Bowie sort of thing so that he could have a three way and at the
same time make love to himself and probably David Bowie too, because if you’re
Krishna why not also get married to David Bowie.
Krishna whisked away
with a multitude of virile penises and clits.
He did not always take male form on such excursions. While there are many doorways of stories we
could open this page, tonight will be Krishna and Kali as Shiva waits for the
sequel.
In the thick of the Amazon
jungle Kali was strewn ten arms, two legs holding the decapitated heads of
smiling men whom she had recently devoured.
Their demonic bodies swallowed whole, consciousness imbibed. Kali always got horny after getting
apocalyptic. Kali’s blue flesh was
pulsating a serpentine rhythm reptile-like fixated on Krishna’s heat. Krishna appeared as a red clay vase brimming
with water on the back of a crocodile swimming towards Kali.
Four of Kali’s free
hands began to dance beckoning her fuck-god, tongue out long dripping with the
blood of her kill lusting for Krishna.
Kali took two of the heads in hands five and six crushed them into
powder raised to her mouth and blew the dust like a perfume she walked through
the mist. Her loin cloth dissolved. Her skull-bone mala beads shook exposing her
blue nipples engorged and soaked in blood.
Kali breathed in the
bone-dust. A harpy eagle picked up the
pitcher upon the crocodile and poured Krishna down Kali’s throat. Kali burst an orgasm that shook the trees. Aguaje fruit rained down. Howler monkeys, tapirs, and macaws swarmed on
the feast.
Kali could feel
Krishna inside her stimulating her blood obliterating the traces of the toy-ish
boys Kali ate to engorge her folds for Krishna.
Kali’s breath mixed with Krishna flowing to each of her muscles wrapping
into Kali’s inner clitoris like a wishbone Krishna was granting. Bulbs deep internal erection, eight thousand
nerve endings, Kali multiplied them like the stars when Krishna was inside her
echoing a flower that when orgasming pollinated every plant in the
rainforest. Passion flowers, ginger
torches, and lotuses bloomed wildly.
Kali’s sweat flung from her indigo skin transforming into butterflies
gorging on the fresh nectar in the ovules.
Kali’s body quivered
as an eclipse belted the sun into bondage darkness. The forest hooted and cawed at the
crepuscular flood. Krishna was fucking
Kali from the inside. Kali took a hand
left and right to place two fingers each upon her labia, two more hands one
above to circle mons pubis draping down to her clit and the fourth into her
vagina transforming four of her fingers into a thick, elongated penis. Kali could feel her own uncircumcised tip in
her mind kissing Krishna as the very blood pulsing in her opening.
The ground quaked as
Kali came seven hundred times with a ferocity that would take any human woman
past death and echo into several afterlives.
There could be nothing left to experience in the mortal coil. As Kali’s pants slowed the eclipse
ended. The local’s sacrifices were
answered. Kali’s third eye began to glow like an
ember. The red circle on an oceanic face
swirled a tempest. Two legs and arms
spread the aperture. Krishna crawled out
of Kali’s third eye with a levitating flute in his mouth.
Kali’s body fell
raptured by the act breathing hot and rapid, genderless, at one with the
universe. Her arms lay spread, limp and
taken of their strength transformed into ten succumbed cobras. Kali’s belly rooted into a Kapok tree
enormous and rocketing to the sky breaking the barrier of the canopy. Kali’s legs stood upon themselves and became
a Jabiru stork taking flight shedding a single avian tear falling onto
Krishna’s forehead as he played his flute.
The tear rolled bifurcating a drip to each side of Krishna’s neck
sprouting a left and right head each chanting Om.
Kali’s loins turned
into an orchid at the base of the Kapok tree.
Krishna lowered his central head nestled his nose underneath the hood of
the orchid’s sepal down the column to the pollinia gently parting the orchid’s
lips. In this simple touch a star
exploded its final fusion in the far reaches of a distant or not so distant
galaxy bearing a black hole. Krishna vanished
and Kali’s lust for death, destruction, and the killing of men was reborn once
more.
No comments:
Post a Comment