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This story is mine and is copyrighted by me, The Purple Herald.
Please don't copy it and add it to your website and make a profit off
of my hard work. Please don't strip my name off of the story and claim
it for yourself. Please don't be an asshole.

I read, welcome and answer all comments. Contact me at

"Art of Her Desire"
By Tsukki
"Thank you very helping me move these boxes in," I told my new
neighbor, Susan.

"Your welcome, Tsukki," she said, butchering the pronunciation of
my name and not meaning her reply at the same time. "Phil wasn't doing
anything today anyway."

I smiled. Phil wasn't as uneager as she tried to make him sound.
The blond man had been watching me from his window when I first drove
up and I could see the anxiety on his face when I started to unpack.
He couldn't wait to help the beautiful asian woman who had moved in
next door.

"Your husband is very strong," I commented.

Susan snorted.

"What is in all these boxes?" Phil asked. His eyes fell to the
opening in my shirt and the pale swell of my breasts. My short nature
often allowed men to see down my blouse. It wasn't accidental.

"They hold my paintings," I said.

Susan and Phil looked around them with a start.

"How many do you have?" Susan asked.

"More than I should," I admitted. I touched Phil on the arm and
if I didn't have him before, I knew I had him now by the warm flush on
his face. "Thank you for your strength this day."

Susan was perturbed and took her husband's arm. "What kind of
paintings do you do?"


"Completely inappropriate!" my husband snapped.

He dropped my painting to the floor and I winced as the corner
bent. I resisted the urge to pick it up. Instead, I just stood there
with my head bowed respectfully.

"Sex! That is all you paint!" my husband ranted. "My position
demands a wife who pursues more acceptable pursuits. You are over
fifty my wife! Your mind should not be polluted with such base
things. Why can't you draw mountains and streams like the governor's

"Because sex is more beautiful," I replied.

My husband snarled and commanded me to not paint any more lewd


The next morning I went outside to sweep my sidewalk. Across the
street several teenagers stood waiting for the school bus. I knew they
were staring at me, and why shouldn't they? I was exotic. I was new
in their neighborhood and something they may never see again. My asian
features were inscrutable. I could have been anywhere from eighteen to
thirty years old in their minds.

My long black hair was loose blowing in the morning wind. I was
also only wearing my lightest of kimonos; a pink robe with yellow
dragons. My hips swayed back and forth as I swept and I could feel my
kimono opening around my chest as I worked. I neglected to wear a bra
this morning, something the boys across the street were sure to notice.

I bent down to pick up something that didn't exist and I snuck a
glance at them. All of them were looking at me. At school they will
talk about me. At home they will fantasize about me.

They too were now mine.


"Tsukki, I warned you not to paint any more of this filth," my
husband said.

"You did," I said respectfully. He discovered that I was not
going to the garden shrine every morning to meditate. I found that the
mornings were best time to paint for I carried the glow with me all day

"You have disobeyed me for the last time," my husband warned.
"Tomorrow, they all burn and if I catch you painting again, I will ask
the governor to send you to the nuns to clean your wicked ways."

"Of course," I answered, with as much venom as I could summon yet
still be respectful.


"You're new here," the older man said. I find that Americans
love to state the obvious. A walk around the block had produced quite
a few stares but no introductions till now. But then, he was getting
his mail and just happened to be by the street.

"Yes, my name is Tsukki," I said as I offered my hand, fingers

His face lit up. At his age, it must have been years since a
woman offered her hand like a lady. He took my hand gently and gave me
a slight squeeze. I liked how delicate he treated me.

"My name is Ned," he said. "I visited Korea when I was younger.
The people were very nice"

I didn't tell him my home was Japan.

"I find the people here to be nice too," I replied. "I haven't
meet many of my neighbors yet, but those that I have have been
pleasant. I think my questions of where the grocery store is and where
can I find good paints tend to exhaust their patience."

He frowned briefly. "Well if you need someone to show you around
town, you can always ask me. I'm usually home all day. You said that
you paint? What do you paint? My son paints houses but I imagine you
do something nicer."

"I paint my desires," I told him. The shy smile that came to his
lips warmed my heart.

He was mine now.


I gathered my paintings together for one last look before my
husband burned them. The variety amazed even me. Where did such
carnal images come from? Why did they never cease to excite me? I had
paintings of couples, groups and even of people alone, pleasing
themselves. They were all beautiful and I hated that they must all

"They are beautiful," a voice said.

I turned to see a strange man. He was tall, almost as tall as
the strange barbarians we have heard so much about. His hair was black
but his beard was yellow though sometimes when he turned his head, his
beard appeared red. An expensive robe adorned him and on it were
patterns of tigers and dragons. My cheeks burned when I realized the
tigers and dragons were mating.

"You have much talent, Tsukki," he said. "With much practice you
will be the greatest artist of all time."

"Thank you," I said. "But I can paint no longer by the command
of my husband and I am too old to wait for his death."

The strange man chuckled. "You are old, Tsukki, but that can be
fixed. What if I said I could give you the chance to live long enough
to paint to your heart's content? What if I could free you from your
husband and the chains of any man?"

"I would say that you had to be either a God or an Oni," I

He thought about it. "I am both. I will give you these gifts
for a price. Every ten years, I will take your six best paintings.
They will hang in my Crystal Palace until the end of all time. Is this
offer fair?"

"What is the trick?" I asked.

"No tricks," he said. "Just consider me the best patron an
artist could ever have."

I agreed. He approached me and took my wrinkled face in his
hands and kissed me. It was strange. I felt two tongues enter my

"Tonight, sleep with your husband if you wish to save your
paintings in the morning."


At the grocery store I couldn't find any of the foods I
craved. It was no surprise. I didn't plan to stay in town long, maybe
a year or three so I knew I could make do. I would have to dig out my
old recipes and make most of my food myself. It would take time away
from my painting, but I would live and there will always be more time
for my art.

I requested the bagger to carry my food to my car and he readily
agreed. He was too shy to speak but I could feel his eyes on my bottom
as I walked in front of him. I was wearing jeans, something my first
husband would have fainted at if they were invented in his time. My
jeans clung to my legs and ass in such a way that nothing was left to
the imagination.

"Thank you very much," I said when he dropped my bags into the
car. His name tag said he was called Sean.

"No problem," he said quietly and rushed off. When I pulled out
of the parking lot, I caught him spying at me from store entrance.
There was wistfulness in his eyes I knew well.

There was no doubt that he was mine.


For my husband I painted my face white. I wore my prettiest
shoes and my most expensive hairpins. He was surprised when I came to
his chambers but his arrogant smile told me he thought this was a bribe
for tomorrow's burning. It didn't stop him taking me to his bed.

He made love and I had sex. There was a passionate quality in
our joining that hadn't been there before. My thighs clenched around
him and his mouth never ceased adoring me. I could feel the magic
tingling against our bodies but he was too busy thrusting to notice.
When he spilled his seed, his moan was like that of a tortured soul.

The next morning, I was younger. It was only by a year but a
woman notices these things. One less wrinkle here, a few pounds
missing here and darkening of my white hair told me that the stranger
had not lied. I would have years a-plenty.

Also that morning, my husband neglected to burn my paintings. He
hinted that he could be distracted from his threat by another night
like last night. Because he was a man that thought with his groin and
not his eyes; he didn't notice that his wrinkles had deepened and that
his hair was thinner.

Of course I came to his bed again that night.


At the paint store, a man approached me and offered to paint me.
I was amused by the novelty of posing. I accepted his offer and sat
for him at his house later that evening. His name was Charles and he
wanted me to remove my shirt. It was easy to oblige.

For an hour he painted my round breasts with their soft pink
nipples. His technique was horrible but the experience was unique. I
resolved to do a better painting of my breasts later to counter the
insult of his art.

Charles tried to seduce me that night but I politely declined.
There was no need to take him now. He was mine.


Ten years after the death of my husband, my patron came to visit

"You are looking lovely," he said. That day he wore a robe of
mating monks and foxes

It was true. After the death of my husband and the death of two
lovers, I was as young and as beautiful as when I first married. No
matter how many years I took, I couldn't get any younger than when I
first had sex. It was fortunate limit all things considered.

"Thank you. I owe it all to you."

"Yes, you do," he said. "I have selected my six favorites. Your
talent has improved already."

"I have one question please," I said. "My husband left me a
generous amount of money but I can't help realize it won't last
forever. Marrying a new husband will be more difficult as I get older
and I don't know how I will raise more money. I considered selling
some of my paintings but I didn't want to sell one that you wanted."

"Tsukki, sell your paintings as you wish," he laughed. "If one
becomes my favorite, then I will handle acquiring it from whom ever you
sold it to."

Ten years later, one of my costumers was saddened to discover
that his painting was stolen. He paid me the same sum to paint him
another but it wasn't as beautiful as the original. Perhaps that was a
good thing for if it was as beautiful, he might not have kept the
second one either.


I used my front yard to sunbathe because if I used the back, no
one would see me. My black bikini was stark against my white skin that
could never tan. Along with eternal youth I appeared to have gained
the ability to heal from any injury, even sunlight. Although I
couldn't tan, I enjoyed the warm heat of the sun and used the time to
plan my next painting.

"Excuse me," my other next-door neighbor said from his lawn.
"You're new here, right? My name's Kenneth."

I smiled at him. His wife has assured me yesterday that her
husband, Kenneth, never did yard work but there he was, cutting his
hedges. I rolled over onto my side and gave him a better view.

"Enjoying the sun?" he said inanely.

American, British or Japanese, men said the same stupid things as
a pretense to watch me. We talked for a few more minutes till his wife
called for him from the house. She gave me a disapproving glare as he
came in. He never came out again that day.

He was mine and I think even she knew it.


The Coven of Six stood in front of me while I remained kneeling.
I was nude and covered with welts from their whips. All six of the
women circled me and touched the whip marks with their fingers till
they were satisfied.

"You are already favored by the Thigh-Crusher, what more do you
want?" the black witch said.

"Ladies, the times move on and civilization grows more advanced,"
I petitioned. "I have taken husbands and lovers but people are
beginning to notice their deaths. I tire of seduction. I tire of
breaking romances. I want to regain my youth in a way that frees me
for more time to paint."

The redhead witch kneeled in front of me and said, "We can teach
you how, but there will be a price."

"Isn't there always?" I asked.

Six times I pleasured each of the six witches and not a year did
I gain from any of them. But they kept their word. They taught me
what I needed to know. As my jaw ached from licking, they taught me a
spell that I used to this day.


My backyard was finished. With chalk and sweat I had drawn the
lines through the grass. On the fence surrounding the yard hung
certain charms. I stripped out of my clothes and climbed into the
special swing I had hung from a tree. My legs spread lewdly with my
shoulders supported by the various ropes; I waited comfortably for the
moon to reach its peak.

In their homes and on their beds, my men began to stir. Every
man that lusted for me, every man that masturbated while thinking of me
and every man that thought of me while they lay with their wives were
affected. The magic kept their wives asleep and silenced questioning
dogs. All across town they came. Their eyes were half-opened but
their minds were asleep. They thought it was a dream and they dreamed
of me.

Kenneth entered my yard first. He stepped out of his underwear
and stood between my open legs. His manhood was hard and my flower was
wet and waiting for him. Kenneth entered me under the full moon and I
moaned at my first taste of sex in too many years.

Phil came over the fence and would have waited for Kenneth to
finish but I was too impatient. I leaned back in my flexible swing and
Phil walked over to my whispering mouth. From out of his silk pajamas
his manhood stood proud and pulsing. I took him between my lips and
sucked hard on his girth.

At both ends I took them. Kenneth's hands squeezed my thighs
while Phil held my long black hair in his hands. The wind caressed our
bodies as the three of us merged. I trembled as Kenneth's thick
manhood stretched my tiny flower and I moaned as Phil's member filled
my mouth.

It didn't take long for Phil to release his seed and a year of
his life into my mouth. Kenneth gave his contribution to my eternity
soon after. His seed sprayed inside my flower, granting me an orgasm
and another year to paint with a single burst.

They stumbled away, returning to their homes with only an erotic
dream to comfort them. Behind them I could see that others had come.
There were the boys who waited by the bus. Coming through the gate was
the old man, Ned. I could hear cars pulling up and knew that Charles,
Sean and others were coming.

I welcomed the young teens between my thighs. Each only lasted
for a few thrusts and each fondled my breasts with a passionate fury
that made me laugh with delight. They gave me a year of their precious
youth and I gave them an erotic experience they will try to recreate
their entire lives.

Charles was next between my thighs and I was pleasantly surprised
by how good he was. His hips moved like the waves and his hands were
gentle in comparison to the rough treatment the teens gave me. The
tree creaked as it held my swing against Charles' powerful thrusts. He
brought me to climax twice before he allowed himself to spill inside
me. He was a better lover than he was an artist.

Countless men moved between my thighs or into my mouth. I was
surprised I had affected this many. There were men I didn't even
recognize; people that must have seen me on the street or in a store
and carried my image home with them.

When my throat could swallow no more, I began to take them into
my hand. My small fingers could barely wrap around their large members
but they came nonetheless. Their seed arced in the air and landed on
my pale body to be absorbed by the magic that stole their years.

The moon rose higher as the men gave me their offerings. My
flower became slick with their seed and my thighs were numb from their
constant thrusting. young and old, married and single, I took them
all. Tonight was the culmination of weeks of fantasy and I felt it was
my duty to pleasure them all for the life they gave me.

Sean tried to enter my ass, and I consented. The swing was easy
to lift and he happily penetrated my small bottom. It felt good to be
speared like that and I moaned to my heart's content under the moon.
Up and down he dropped my suspended body until his manhood plugged my
anus with his seed.

When Ned's turn came, I decided to take him in my mouth. Over
the years I had come to know when a man's climax would be his last and
I felt that his should be special. His manhood reeked of his age but I
swallowed him down with the respect his age deserved. His wrinkled
balls slapped my chin as I bounced over his member and though it took
awhile, I finally sucked the seed from his root.

Over time, all of the men eventually left. I fell from the swing
exhausted but invigorated at the same time. The men returned to their
homes as I crawled inside my house. In the morning I would shower but
for now all I wanted was to sleep in my own bed with the seed of a
hundred men coursing through my body.


Later in the afternoon, someone discovered Ned's body. I saw the
ambulance drive by while I was painting. My fingers were sore from
clutching so many manhoods, but I had to do this one painting before it
faded from my memory. It depicted Ned's face at the point when his
member climaxed in my lips, and I wanted to capture the look of death,
satisfaction and joy that had appeared on his tired eyes.

The end.

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