The Sexy Librarian's Big Book of Erotica

by Rose Caraway

  “You know what the greatest wonder was? Her nipples stiffened as I touched them. They rose up, and their areolae puckered to the drag of my fingers, and she sighed and giggled. Her parts reacted to me—and I knew for the first time that a woman’s body felt pleasure just as my own did. Nobody had ever told me that. She loved me touching her.”

  Oedipus shook his head in reminiscence. “Her tits. That’s what she called them. A low word for such glorious things. ‘Tits’ and ‘cunny’ and ‘ass’ and ‘clit,’ those were the words she used, and she taught me all about them, over many months.

  “And I was a diligent scholar, keen to master every lesson and put my learning to the test. I prided myself on the skills I developed under her tutelage. When, for the first time, Clio straddled me nose-to-tail and said, ‘Make me fall first, Prince Oedipus, and I’ll suck your cock until you spurt down my throat,’ I made her come three times before I let her finish me off.

  “This is the secret I learned from her: a woman’s pleasure does not come, as almost every man thinks, from her being filled and stretched and pounded by the biggest cock possible, like a pestle banging away in a mortar. Oh, it’s far more subtle than that. And far more complex. A woman’s body is a labyrinth to be solved.

  “I took the skills my Clio taught me, and practiced upon other women. Beekeepers and dancing-girls and weavers and potters… My reputation spread through Corinth like spilt wine, and couldn’t be stopped. Through giggled confidences, they learned from one another. They came to my chamber by night and lured me into barns by day. They wanted to know if I was all I was rumored to be, and I delighted in confirming the tales. That was my pleasure—my obsession if you like, for it became like a yearning for wine or opium. I lusted to make women come. My own fist upon my cock was good enough for me, though I’d no objection to the hotter embrace of a mouth or cunny. But what I really wanted, what I could do for hour after hour, was to lap the nectar between a woman’s legs, and make her arch and swear and blaspheme. To take the shy and gentle maid and make of her a raving maenad. To have the lissome creature astride my face beg for more and more and more, and then weep with joy and thank me and kiss my cock like it was a god. I took delight in pushing a woman to so many climaxes that she would beg me for mercy out of sheer exhaustion.”

  “And were you merciful?”

  Oedipus smiled. “Oh, eventually.”

  She bit her lip and was glad he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

  “It became a point of pride for me that no woman was immune to pleasure, under my hands. I would rise to any challenge: young or old, fair or plain. An ambassador of the Amazons, corded with muscle and scar-tissue, who had never had any use for a man, laughed at my reputation—but she’d changed her mind by the next morning and confessed publicly, blushing, that I had proved her wrong.

  “After that I trod closer to the edge of propriety. I took two priestesses of Artemis to my bed and sent them away the next morning reeling and wide-eyed and debauched—but still technically virgins despite the throb of their licked and well-fingered winks and the taste of my semen in their mouths. Married women threw themselves in my path—but who could make an accusation of adultery, when my cock never went near the forbidden shrine of their marriage? My preferred site of oblation was across the pillowy expanses of their tits.”

  He smiled, fondly, then shook his head as if he were waking from a dream. “Eventually I provoked too many complaints from confused and outfaced men. To get me out of Corinth and give the pot a chance to stop boiling, the king sent me on a mission to the Oracle at Delphi. Some question about the siting of a new temple. So I went, with a dozen companions.”

  His smile had gone now. His mouth was a hard line. “There, in the dark of the cave, the Pythia breathed in the fumes from that crack in the floor that leads to the Underworld, and then slipped from her high stool into the priests’ waiting arms, thrashing and gibbering. All very holy. It made my skin crawl, if I am honest. They carried her forward to where I waited, and she looked straight at me with pupils wildly dilated. And then she said it… You know that bit. Everyone knows that bit.”

  “‘You will kill your father and marry your mother.’”

  He dipped his chin. “The same thing my true father had been told at my birth. What worse abomination could be pronounced on any man among the Greeks? Patricide and maternal incest—an affront to the gods themselves! I had no choice. No choice at all. I couldn’t ever risk going back to Corinth, and seeing again the father and mother I loved. So I sent my men home and exiled myself. I chose the road to Thebes, at random. And on the road I met—”

  “Your real father, King Laius,” she finished for him.

  Oedipus would have cast her a reproving look if he’d been capable. “I met a peasant driving an ox-cart,” he said coolly. “The wheel-pin had fallen out, and he was blocking most of the track. I stopped to help him unload, and reset the wheel, and while we were working a man drove up in a chariot and tried to push past. He nearly ran his horses over us.”

  He paused for a moment. “How was I to know he was a king at all? He wore no crown and had no retinue—he was just an arrogant middle-aged man in a hurry, driving from Delphi to Thebes. Well, I was arrogant too; I was a prince of Corinth by upbringing. I caught the bridle of the nearest horse as it crushed up against me and I brought his chariot to a halt, cursing him for being such a reckless piece of shit. He cut at me with his whip—I still have the scar, I think.”

  Oedipus ran his hand up his bare forearm, displaying the thin white line imprinted there.

  “I drew my sword then, and he drew his and jumped from the chariot. I slashed his forearm, disarming him…and then swung at his head. But with the hilt. I meant nothing more than to knock him senseless and so teach him manners; I had no idea that men’s skulls could be so fragile. He fell and knocked his head on a stone, and when I bent to look, he wasn’t breathing. It was just an accident. Even the cart-driver agreed.”

  He took a deep breath. “We threw the body in the ditch and left the horses to wander. We didn’t even rob him—that would have been beneath me, I thought. And when we’d finished righting the cart I went on my way and thought little more about it. It’s several days’ walk to Thebes.”

  “Where you met Phix,” she prompted him, when his silence stretched across the moments.

  “You’re an impatient woman. I met—I was captured by— a band of Theban soldiers, as I walked through their barley fields. They were on the hunt for lone strangers, it turned out, though I didn’t understand at the time.” He nodded to himself. “Thebes was a strange place, not like other Greek cities. They worshipped the gods, somewhat, but they had their own goddess too—a living one, who dwelled in a cave in the hills nearby and accepted offerings of fruit and sheep, and kept their enemies away. The Sphinx, they called her.” He paused, significantly. “Are you intending to interrupt?”

  “No.”

  “But now their goddess had gone crazy. Not content with mutton, she was hunting men: carrying them off sometimes, on other occasions just cornering them. Always the biggest, strongest men. And people said that before she killed, before she gorged herself on their corpses, she demanded that they answer her riddle. When they could not, she grew enraged and slaughtered them. Nobody understood why she was acting this way.”

  “I do.”

  “As do I, now. But at the time, all I understood was that the soldiers seized me, and looked me up and down, and asked if I was any good at the riddle game. ‘Get it right and you’ll be the hero of Thebes,’ they told me. ‘Even the king doesn’t know the answer, and he’s a cunning one. He’s gone off to Delphi to ask the oracle what the answer is.’”

  “Ah.”

  “Ah, indeed. In the meantime, while they waited for their king to come home and save them all, they were offering handpicked sacrifices to their goddess. Slaves mostly, but foreigners and stray travelers were good too, in their eyes, so long as they were strong young men and had some wits
about them. It kept the losses among their Theban champions to a minimum. I was just the next in a long line.

  “They took me to the place of sacrifice—and those soldiers were as nervous as little girls, I can tell you; being a man armed and armored just made them targets for the Sphinx. The altar was a stretch of sandy hillside outside the city, a barren place. They stripped me and tied me to stakes they drove into the earth, hands spread out, staring into the sun. Then they ran.

  “When she came, I was grateful for the shade of her wings. It allowed me to open my eyes again. She was…”

  “Go on.”

  Oedipus bowed his head for a moment. “You know, I’ve never told anyone this before. People want to know about the monster, of course, but that’s just a prelude to the stuff about Queen Jocasta. I’ve never told them about me…and Phix.”

  “You can tell me.”

  He sighed. “She was beautiful. Terrifying, of course— huge—but beautiful. The body of a lioness, the wings of an eagle, the head and breasts of a woman. I’ve seen statues and paintings that make her look Greek, but that’s wrong. Have you ever seen a woman of Upper Egypt?—she looked like that. Dense, long black ringlets of hair, and great dark eyes lined with kohl, and golden earrings that hung almost to her neck. I wondered—later—how she went about adorning herself, but it turned out she had thumbs that were almost human, on those great big paws.

  “It wasn’t her paws I was thinking about as she stood right over my helpless body, though. It was her canine teeth, and her breasts. Oh gods, her breasts… She was bigger than any human woman of course, and those orbs of hers hung over me like the mountains of the gods. The cleft between them was as dark and deep and rich as the Nile Valley, and her black nipples were bigger than the tops of my thumbs.

  “Oh how I wanted those tits. Death seemed an irrelevance in comparison. Don’t get me wrong—I was afraid. But my cock filled and lifted too.

  “‘Now answer my riddle,’ she growled. ‘What is it that walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?’

  “I can understand why no one had answered her correctly before. Imminent death is not conducive to clear thought. But I couldn’t stop looking at those incredible breasts. My mouth should have been dry with terror, but it was watering at the sight. As she crouched over me, not quite touching but mantling me with her wings like a feeding hawk, I realized I could smell her sex. Spice and musk and female lust: it went to my head just like the fumes of the Underworld filling the Pythia’s skull, and drove me nearly as mad.

  “‘Well, I have a third leg right now,’ I said hoarsely. ‘And I am a man.’

  “‘Are you?’ she boomed. ‘Are you?’ She looked down my body, at the rigid cockstand pointing right up at her. ‘Maybe you are,’ she said: ‘at last.’ With the razor-edge of her claw she slashed through my bonds. ‘What will you do now, clever little man?’

  “ ‘This,’ I said, grabbing her nipples and pulling them—together and down, and toward my lifted mouth. I got my lips around the tips of those ambrosial breasts and I chewed and sucked and nuzzled my face between them and kneaded with my fingers…and I damn near spent my load there and then, I tell you.” Oedipus’s hands were crossed over his groin now, in an attempt to hide the obvious. “The Sphinx seemed no less pleased,” he added, clearing his throat. “She yowled like a cat in heat and arched her back, and lifted her rump in the air while she lashed her tail from side to side. But I couldn’t reach any of that. I just had her wonderful tits in my face. That was all I could do…until she snatched me up and rolled over onto her back, taking me with her. I’m very glad she kept her claws velveted. Wings spread in the sand, legs open, she pushed me down her body.

  “Her front was human—two breasts and no more, a hairless belly, and between her lion’s legs a sex that looked entirely human to me, pink-hearted and wet and open like a blown rose. The smell of her was intoxicating.

  “‘Fill me!’ she ordered, showing teeth like bronze daggers. And it was clear what she wanted, what was driving her mad with frustration—but how was any man supposed to satisfy her? I was sporting an erection of heroic proportions, but she was bigger than any woman, bigger even than a lioness, and I doubted she’d even feel my shaft.”

  Oedipus paused, breathing deeply. “She was the kind of challenge that made my blood sing.”

  She shifted her weight from one thigh to the other, feeling the impatient slickness between them. “Go on!”

  He turned his face to her, a habit left over from his sighted life. “Do you really want to hear?”

  “Yes!”

  “You want to know how I fucked the Sphinx?”

  “Yes,” she repeated, her voice all twisted up.

  “Then come closer.”

  She was sure he could hear her unguarded breathing, fast and shallow. “You would try to force me.”

  “Never.” He smiled. “I would swear that, but what would I swear it on? The gods? My father’s grave? My mother’s honor?” His laugh was lightly bitter. “No force. If you want to hear, come closer.”

  She came round and stood in front of him. He cocked his head and smiled, and crooked his right arm.

  “This. I fucked her with this.” Speaking low, he made a spear-point of his fingers. “Like so, at first. She was tight, and slippery, and I worked it into her slowly. I used my mouth—the whole of my face, my other hand too—on her clit, and she opened to me with mews of pleasure.” He closed his fingers into a fist. “Then like this, when I was inside. Building up the motions until I was using all the strength of my forearm. She took me to elbow.”

  She put her hand on his raised fist and drew her fingers down, over the broad wedge of forearm muscle. She felt him shiver. Her own heart was banging like a war drum.

  “I want to touch you,” he said hoarsely. “It’s been two years since I lay with anyone.”

  “It’s been longer for me. Much longer.”

  “Are you old?” He said it gently, without rancor.

  “Older than you, Oedipus.”

  His lips were softly parted. “Let me touch you. Please.”

  She took his other hand and brought it up slowly. His fingers were warm under hers. Both of them held their breath as she laid his palm to the swell of her breast—and then he exhaled shudderingly. His thumb found the point of her nipple and circled it in wonder.

  “Oh yes…”

  She bit her lip, overwhelmed by sensation.

  Gently, he slipped his hand under the thin linen of her peplos and traced the curves of warm skin. His fingers felt like cool water, like music, like flame.

  “You’re not old,” he murmured. His other hand joined its twin, and she arched a little as he cupped and fondled both mounds, teasing her nipples until they were swollen like ash-buds in spring. “You’re not old at all.”

  One hand slipped upward, caressing her neck, reaching for her face.

  Mistake. Her half-closed eyes snapped open. She grabbed his wrist and her voice cracked: “No!”

  “Apologies.” He seemed a little stunned.

  “Tell me,” she commanded, pushing the errant hand back down. “Tell me about Phix.”

  He tried to concentrate. “I…I fucked her. I grabbed the base of her tail to brace myself, and I mashed my mouth over her clit, and I fist-fucked her. Oh gods…the grip and the heat of her…I thought she would pulp my bones. And the noise of the wet of her, and the kick of her pelvic girdle… She dug her rear claws into my leg and I could feel the blood running, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop until she screamed and I felt her come on my fist, the muscle spasms nearly crushing my forearm. Then I pulled out enough to get my cock in alongside my hand.”

  She was almost panting. “I’d have thought you wanted to spend on her chest.”

  “I did—but I knew what she needed. Oh, I’m sure she never even noticed my length, but I put my seed inside her nevertheless. She purred afterward, like a great cat. She lay on her back, limbs sprawled, purring li
ke thunder, pressing my face to her beautiful gash.”

  “Did you kill her then?”

  “What?” He’d drawn her loosened dress off her shoulders by now, baring her from the waist upward. His hands were all over her, exploring the span of her waist and the flare of her hips. “No!”

  “The story is that when you answered her riddle, the Sphinx killed herself in rage.”

  “That’s not true either. She lived. They said I had tamed her, and they came out to her cave and made me King of Thebes. They gave me the widowed queen to wed. You know all that.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Oedipus sank to his knees, burying his face in her cleavage, kissing her bare skin, licking at her nipples. “I was a good king. Do they say that? I ruled justly and in peace. Nineteen years. Does anyone remember, or only the way it ended?”

  She groaned as he tugged her nipple between his teeth. “But what happened to Phix?”

  Oedipus paused, and moistened his lips. “She had cubs.”

  “Children!”

  “Yes. A boy and a girl. That’s what she was after, all along. Seed.”

  “Your children!”

  “Yes. They were shy; they hid whenever I went to visit her. But I saw them.”

  “You…visited?”

  “I couldn’t stay away. She was…those wonderful tits. You cannot understand. She was my goddess made flesh. I had to.” His hand was up the inside of her skirt, caressing her thigh.

  “Then what happened to her?”

  “The girl-cub killed her. Fourteen years on, and nearly full grown. Phix didn’t have the heart to slay her own, I think. I saw the fight, but there was nothing I could do. Then they both flew away…my children.”