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When he was finished, he turned to me and began to paint MY face! Every movement of his fingers was perfectly defined and sensuous, and as he trailed his oily fingers over my nose, cheeks, and lips, I began to feel a tingle in my pussy. Then from somewhere, he materialized three glowing balls that he began juggling in the air. Every once in awhile he would stop and add another ball, until he had five going at once. He put on quite a show for me, ending in a bow that brought his face only inches from mine. I don’t know quite what happened next, but somehow his face was on mine, kissing me hard, as I grabbed him and pulled him on top of me. His greasy face paint was smearing all over me as he began to franticly pull at my clothes. He left a trail of paint from my lips down to both of my full tits and all the way to my cunt, which by that time was wet and hungry for action. He rubbed his face over my mound, and the lubrication from his makeup made the feeling really incredible. I. He felt his mind drifting off at times forgetting where and who he was. He wasn’t sure who he was now, there were images in his mind that felt like those of a stranger. He could not understand where they came from as he was sure in this moment that they could not have come from his own life. None of those things could exist in a world where pain and agony were the only constants. Sometimes he felt as though he could hear someone calling his name, calling out in warning and despair. He could not understand what they said, only what they meant. They were telling him that he was in danger and this would always force his mind to wake and for him to search for that danger. Invariably, there was none and as his mind settled his focus was discarded and he forgot what it was that he was doing and why he was continuing. It was in these moments that he considered quitting. He thought of allowing himself to fall to the ground, never to arise from it again. The cries of warning he heard were the.
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