Mountain Rites
Page 3
He put a hand on the back of her thigh, pulling slightly. “Get me in your cunt. Come on.” He leaned back a little.
She straddled his lap. Her right leg had room and her foot touched the ground, but there was a snarl of roots in the way of the other.
Dionysus guided her to brace her foot on the roots. He took her by the hips, pulling her down onto his cock. He slid inside her with no resistance, her slick pussy eager for him.
He felt different from any man she’d had before, filling her more completely. She felt split open, not painfully but powerfully, as though his cock was not flesh but a rod of water or fire, pulsing inside her. It pressed against every nerve, every cell. Her pussy was a glove perfectly sized for his cock.
She believed that, if she hadn’t just spent unknown hours being fucked everywhere, she wouldn’t have been able to take Dionysus. She would have been broken apart like a mortal in an old story, shattered in the presence of a god.
She shivered with power, let out a deep sigh, and deliberately squeezed her muscles around his cock.
His hands on her hips tightened, then relaxed. He shifted, put his hands over her breasts, and looked her in the eye. “Ride me, Jenny.”
Obeying his command was hard work, half-balanced on the tree without much room to move her legs. She had to grab his shoulders for support as she lifted herself up and dropped down.
He watched her with greedy eyes. His gaze roamed over her bouncing breasts, the sweat collecting at her temples, and the wet lips of her pussy welcoming his cock.
The movement of their bodies pushed Jenny towards orgasm, though her clit was untouched. She started moaning every time she sunk down onto him. His cock felt perfect inside her, touching every inch of her pussy. Even his unhurried hands on her breasts were having an effect.
She came with a shriek, legs trembling.
Dionysus pushed her up by the ass, eyes intent. “Don’t stop,” he demanded.
She felt fragile in the fire of his gaze, but somehow she kept going. She bounced on his cock through the waves of pleasure, and she came again and again, her pussy clenching in spasms around him. Tears filled her eyes as he rubbed a thumb over her clit. She was cresting higher, screaming in ecstasy, floating high, yet somehow acutely aware that his cum was filling her pussy.
He finally let her stop moving, though he didn’t pull out.
She throbbed around him, somehow just on the verge of another orgasm.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her easily as he stood. His cock shifted inside her, and her clit rubbed against the skin of his stomach.
She felt the edges of orgasm pulling at her, building even at the ends of her nerves.
Without warning, he tumbled with her down onto the grass. He was heavy on her, pushing his cock deeper into her.
Orgasm took her again. Her back arched up from the grass, and her moan spilled out against the skin of his shoulder.
He spread his legs a little, forcing her to do the same, and pulled his tunic over his head.
She hitched one leg around his waist, trying to catch her breath as he squeezed her hips, waist, breasts, and shoulders before taking each of her hands in his and stretching her arms over her head. He pinned her wrists down in the grass, interlocking his fingers with hers and gripping tightly.
She looked up into his face. With the moon behind his head, she could barely make out his features, and his eyes were just dark, dimly glittering pools.
He closed the distance between them and kissed her.
She gasped, completely enraptured by him. His lips tasted like wine. She could feel every inch of his body pressed against hers, heavy with muscle and unearthly power.
At last, he moved. Slowly, but not gently.
As he delved deeply, she screamed, arching her back and coming up against his immovable weight. He was so deep inside her that she felt he was touching the very center of her body, her entire being. She came with his second thrust, her nails digging into his hands, her heels struggling for traction on grass and moss. She moved with him, clumsy and desperate, sure she was going to die from the overload of sensation but wanting more.
He fucked her, biting at her lips and jaw and groaning into her throat.
She couldn’t stop moaning. Earlier, she had been fucking spirits and nymphs, but now, she could feel it in every inch, she was fucking a god.
She tossed her head back. “Yes, yes, take me,” she wailed, the words tripping off her lips, punctuated with gasps and screams. “Fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, yes, fuck me.”
He surged over her.
She was coming without stopping. Every time he thrust, she was at the crest of orgasm. Even though her pussy felt like it was on fire, the climax moved through her whole body as though she would never want anything more or less than his cock ever again. From where his hands gripped hers to where her feet flailed at the ground, she was coming.
“That’s it,” he whispered above her. He bit down on her neck, thrusting faster and pinning her legs and body with his.
She felt him come, taking her with him in a wave of pleasure. Then she blacked out.
When she blinked her eyes open, the god was still plastered over her, his dark eyes looking down at her face.
Jenny licked her dry lips.
He eased her upright and slid out of her, finally softening like a normal man. He raised his cupped hands, and between one blink and the next, he caught water out of nowhere.
She accepted a sip, then let him pour the rest over her sweaty face. “Thank you,” she said, feeling unsure of what to do next. The drumbeat in the air had finally ceased, and with it, the mirrored beat in her soul.
Dionysus smiled at her, his eyes vast and knowing. Traces of his power echoed warmly in her hands, in her head, and between her legs.
“Thank you,” he replied, voice sincere.
Turning the events of the night over in her mind, Jenny wondered if every coupling in the clearing had been initiated by his power and had fed him in return. She might have been intimidated had she entered the rite with the knowledge that a god was present and empowered in every encounter, but she hadn’t known, at least not consciously.
She struggled to comprehend the experience. Everything had made sense as it happened, but the idea of it, of having been with a god, was mindboggling. This bewilderment, however, was no rival to the exhaustion that came after sex. She had been sated, and now she was just tired. She stretched out on the soft ground and fell asleep without a second thought.
* * * * *
She woke to a yellow sunrise and birdsong in the trees. She sat up, stretching against a pleasant soreness. She found her clothes at her feet, clean and neatly folded.
She looked around the clearing, the cool mountain morning making goosebumps prickle up on her skin. At first glance, the field was deserted, but she spotted Ginger stretched out on the grass, leaves in her hair.
“Hey,” Jenny called softly as she pulled on her clothes. She should have been sticky and dusty, but she felt clean and fresh.
Ginger blinked awake. “Morning,” she called back over a yawn. She got to her feet and picked up her own restored clothes, cracking her shoulders in the process.
Jenny peered around the clearing, curious. The grass was trampled down all over, but no other evidence of the rites remained.
Ginger lurched over, putting her boots on as she jumped on first one foot, then the other. “Are you glad you came?” she asked, smiling.
Jenny noticed bite marks all over her friend’s neck and arms. She looked down at herself in alarm. Sure enough, a few bruises had bloomed on her chest. “Yes,” she answered, not ashamed of being intense in her response. “But you need some ice and a sweater.” Jenny was a little chilly, even in the sun with her sweater, and Ginger was still just in a tank top.
Ginger giggled. “You need ice too, girl! But fair enough. Let’s find the car.” She started to recount something that had happened in the night.
Jenny tuned he
r friend out after a moment, for once in her life not wanting to talk details. It felt like a dream, but she was bruised and sex-sore, and the whole night was stamped heavily on her memory. She lingered at the edge of the clearing before finally heading back through the trees to the car, trying to hum the flute song. She wanted something to remember. She had been overwhelmed by sensations in the night, but they were mere shadows now.
When she licked her lips halfway down the mountain, she tasted a hint of fresh grapes and smiled.
The End
Author Bio
Anya Turner lives in the Central Valley of California. She started writing erotic stories when she realized she didn’t have to fade to black the way the movies did. Around that same time, she discovered the grown-ups’ section of the library…