Aristaios watched in wonder as Elektra bathed. Then, as if awoken from a dream, he realized that his manhood was swollen with passion, and he had been stroking it as he watched her. He realized now that he could no sooner cease to watch her than cut off his own hand. His thick and veiny member grew harder as he slowly stroked its length over and over, the sensation of his rigidness beneath the velvety skin sending waves of pleasure through him.
Elektra slowly ran her wet hands over her hips, down her stomach and then, to Aristaios’ silent wonder, over her silken mound and between her legs. He watched as her hands slowly stroked her own sex, her breathing becoming audibly more labored. She left one hand between her legs while the other roamed over her heaving breasts, pinching at her wanting nipples. Aristaios stood, transfixed in the shadows while he watched Elektra pleasure herself, taking relief of his own. As her hands began to move more hungrily over her body, she began to moan between breaths. Her hips were grinding into her hand now. She bit her lip. Aristaios, still grasping at his member, struggled to control himself, as he watched the handmaiden bring herself to climax. At last she let out a loud whimper, her thighs flexed and clutching at her probing hand. Her body shook and convulsed as she came, seemingly forever, as her cries filled the night air.
Aristaios could no longer hold back. He felt his hot seed flow over his hand, and as he came, he moaned loudly. He tried to stifle his desire, but it was too late. Surely Elektra had heard him. Aristaios, shame washing over him, fled into the temple. He ran across the main room and threw himself at the base of the statue. The stone perfect visage of Aphrodite, gazed mercilessly upon the pitiful, weeping form before her. Aristaios cursed himself.
“Lady…Goddess, forgive me. I have shamed myself and your temple. I have desecrated the very house of Aphrodite…” He heard the soft scrape of bare feet behind him, and let out another sob.
“Aristaios, there is no shame in what you have done,” Elektra’s velvet voice replied. “You desire me. That is all. This is more than just the house of Aphrodite. It is the house of love, of desire, of passion.” She placed a graceful hand on his shoulder as she spoke. Once again, her touch invited stirrings in his being. He tried to pull away, but she grasped his wrist and held fast. He had not the strength to oppose her. She knelt beside him and, gently ran a slender finger along his cheek. Aristaios turned to face her. She was still naked, skin glistening. He could not look away. He was bound to her eyes.
“Sweet Elektra…you…haunt me. I’ve not had these feelings for years. In fact, not since the passing of my Kasandra. I am shamed at my actions. I will gather my things and leave immediately.”
Elektra smiled deeply. “Dear Aristaios, you do not want to leave. Your passion betrays you.” She looked downward and he was aware that his manhood was awakening to her presence. He silently cursed his nakedness…his lack of control. “Tell me Aristaios.”
“Tell you?”
“Yes. Tell me what you want. Do not be ashamed. Do not be frightened. Simply tell me.” There was a soothing timbre in her voice. Her hand gently stroked his arm sending shivers the length of his spine. His eyes trailed over the swell of her breasts. His entire body quaked as he battled to hold back his emotions, yet they triumphed, flooding over him like a great tidal wave.
In a flurry of insatiable passion, his arms enveloped her, his lips seeking out hers. They locked in a hungry embrace then. He tasted her lips, the supple flesh of her neck and shoulders. His insistent kisses raced down the delicate line of her collarbone, and finally, poured over her breasts.
Elektra clutched at the back of Aristaios’ head as his eager mouth ranged over her bosom. Her swollen nipples glistened with his saliva. She moaned softly at his ministrations. She could feel his engorged manhood throbbing against her thigh.
There was no turning back now, either for Aristaios or Elektra. Her desire was just as molten as his, her breathing just as labored. He stood and pulled her up with him. His eyes moved over her wanton form, drowning in the deluge of her beauty. He slowly turned her so that he was now behind her. Again he had to taste her, and he trailed soft, warm kisses over her neck and shoulders. A gentle hand slid around her side and cupped her breast, his thick fingers pinching at her nipple. Another hand slid down her stomach, painfully slow, and over her pubis. Her silken fur tickled his fingertips. She was still wet, though whether from the water or her own nectar, he knew not. His probing fingers slid over the entrance to her sex, and as they did, she moaned and ground her pelvis into his hand. She whimpered then as his fingers inched inside, coated instantly by her juices. Her skin was flushed and the temple echoed with her desire.
“Take me Aristaios!” She breathed.
Aristaios gently bent Elekrtra over the foot of the statue. He felt her shudder as his swollen manhood rubbed along the length of her sex, and then slowly slid inside her. Aristaios moaned loudly as the warm folds of her enveloped him. He felt Elektra’s insides tighten as began to move within her. His rough hands clutched at her hips as he began to quicken his pace, leaving the flesh there tender and red. What started slow was now an act of raw, animalistic need. He drove into her repeatedly, almost growling as he did so. His feral desire drove her to the edge, breathing shallow between gasps of pleasure. A knot of passion unfurled inside her and with a loud cry she climaxed, and he followed closely behind, spraying his molten desire inside her.
Aristaios lay then, draped over Elektra as she leaned against the statue for support. They were a mass of tangled humanity, sweat soaked and breathing heavily. Aristaios brushed aside Elektra’s hair to kiss her once again, but he pulled away in wonder. It was no longer Elektra that confronted him now. She was tall with an elegant charm. Her blonde curls framed a porcelain face, with deep blue eyes, and full lips. She silently drew her robe about her naked form as Aristaios watched in wonder.
“Who…?”
She smiled then. “You know who I am Aristaios.” His gaze was drawn to the statue and then back to her. He knew then.
“You are Aphrodite…goddess of love.” She was the perfect likeness of the statue, yet living and breathing as she was, a thousand times more beautiful. Aristaios hung his head and gave a mournful sigh.
“What troubles you Aristaios?”
“It is a dream. I will wake with a desire even more haunting than the one I had known.”
“No, Aristaios. This is no dream.” Her graceful hand lifted his downturned face and then kissed him softly on the lips. There was fire in her touch, yet mercy on her lips. “Do I not feel real to you?”
“Yes Goddess, but…”
“Do not doubt yourself then, Aristaios. You have given me pleasure this night, and for that, the rest of your days shall be blessed by the goddess of love.” She busied herself with her robe when he replied.
“No, Goddess. The pleasure has been all mine, and such a long time I have waited to taste of your lovely fruit.” As he spoke, Aristaios’ voice deepened. It took on a feral quality. Aphrodite raised her eyes and her breath caught in her throat. What stood before her was no longer a man. The creature had a ruddy complexion, pointed ears and tiny horns poking just above his matted dark hair. His lip curled into a wicked grin and she could see fangs hiding behind his playful demeanor. From the waist down, he was covered in dark fur and the creature’s legs ended in hooves. He lecherously fingered the small wooden pipes that hung suspended by a thin cord around his neck.
“Pan! You despicable satyr! How could you deceive me thus?” He laughed heartily, his dark eyes aglow in the moonlight,
“Goddess,” he said with a sneer, “Your own deception is what led to your downfall…Besides,” he continued, “I know you liked it. I daresay the goddess of love shall never be the same.”
Aphrodite continued to glare at the satyr. Pan’s smug expression drooped. His eyes became sad and a frown crept across his face. A lone tear rolled down his earthy cheek and a small sniffle escaped him.
“Oh, stop it!” Aphrodit
e snapped. “Your sad puppy routine will not work with me, Pan.” The satyr hung his head dejectedly and turned to exit the temple, scuffling his hooves as he went.
“Oh, for the love of Zeus! Stop, Pan. I’m just angered because you got the better of me and…well…by Hera, I did like it. I concede then, satyr. You have won this round, but in another century, we shall see who fools who.”
Pan raised his head and tossed back his shoulders as he continued for the entrance to the temple.
“I accept your admission of defeat, Goddess, and what’s more I commend you. Your skills as a seductress and lover have not waned in the least. In fact, they are as sharp as ever. I regret that I must depart now. The forest nymphs await you know, but I will see you in another century…If you can wait that long.”
The moon crept behind the hill, withdrawing it’s reflection from the Agean and the ruins of the small temple on the hill. It is said that even today, when the moon is full and you listen closely enough, you can hear Aphrodite’s cries of passion, and if you listen even closer, you can hear the sinister laugh of Pan.
The End.
The Chase
I've got to stop. I'm breathing so hard, I think I'm going to have a heart attack. I'm hoping a few minutes of breathing space, will let me figure this out. I've never seen anything like what I've just seen, heard, or felt. I feel a small part of me has lived, and died all within the span of a few short hours. I've seen things that no one should see, and felt things only whispered about in the dark dead of the night between children trying to scare each other.
My name is Michelle Warner. I'm an unemployed steel worker living in the outskirts of Pittsburg. I have no husband, no children. My parents divorced and later died when I was a teenager. I stayed with a foster family who did their best to love me for a few short months until I turned eighteen, and then I headed out on my own.
I did some time in the military; I was a Marine for six years. I learned discipline, I learned operations in Panama and South America. I was one of the gang, the one in the back that you can always depend on. I was the anchorman in many ways, and the younger recruits looked up to me in times of need. Now ten years later, my unemployment checks keep me one-step away from destitution. I use a motorcycle to get around on, so gas isn't as much a problem for me as it is for most people, but I still find it weird to spend twenty bucks to fill up a five-gallon tank. What few possessions I have are in my military footlocker, in a rented room. I figure if I can get to the freeway, I can get back to Pittsburg in a day of hitchhiking. My vision is blurry, and my hands are shaking, I'm not even sure if I could drive there or not, even if my bike was in once piece.
I hear the sound of her cool, dark, powerful voice call me.
She's coming.
I scramble to my feet and start running again.
Through bramble, past ancient trees, onto a dirt trail, Panting, sweating hard. I can't go any farther and I think I've lost her anyway, but how can you loose someone who doesn't need to rest? Someone who will haunt me for the rest of my days? I swear, after this is over, I'll never take a drink again, much less drink and get on a bike.
I hear nothing, and feel my heartbeat getting slower. If I can make it back to the main road and hitch back to Pittsburg I think I'll make it. I feel around in my pants and smile, finding my wallet. I guess she didn't have any use for my money. I relax just a little bit, and try to make some sense about what just happened.
I feel bad about wrecking my bike. It was a good, reliable Honda, and serviced me well. The long three-day weekend was too tempting to miss, I got a bottle of Johnnie Walker in a flash, and took a long ride out into the country.
It was getting dark, and I didn't see any sort of a town so I just decided to pull off on one of the side country roads and make a camp under a tree. I didn't see the dark mud patch, I must have been a little too drunk, and I slammed my bike into an old tree. I felt the shuddering of my bones, and then, lost consciousness.
When I came to, there was a dim light to one side, and then I saw him for the first time. I'll admit that I'm not normally attracted to men, most of my relationships have been with other women, but when I saw him there, he took my breath away.
In the dim candle light, he stood before me in a classic smoking jacket and a pair of dark slacks. His strawberry blonde hair brushed to one side, not a single strand out of place, and his warm, brown eyes looked down at me like a sleeping child. He knelt down, beside the couch that I was laying on and took one of my hands.
"Young lady," he asked, "how do you feel?"
"I, um, uh," I said, stammering.
He turned his head, and I saw the outline of a thin female figure toward the back. She was dressed in an old-style maid's uniform, like someone out of the fifties.
"Our guest is stirring, Celeste. Please prepare her some hot tea and prepare a bed for her." He then turned back to me, "I heard your crash from my house. You were thrown clear and landed on a grassy knoll. You're lucky to be alive."
"I, um, yeah. How long have I been out?" I asked.
"Several hours. It's about one o'clock in the morning," He said.
My head was swimming, and as I sat up, I noticed my host had a bundle of cloth bandages, some with blood on them.
"Take it easy, my dear. You're lucky, I'm a doctor. Well, a retired doctor, but I still know how to treat a wound." He smiled at me, with a tender gentleness that I had not seen since my father died.
"How bad?" I asked.
He shrugged, "I'm going to have Celeste prepare a room for you, and we should see you up and about tomorrow. We'll have a nightcap before you go, and you'll sleep like a baby. We can have the car brought around in the morning and we'll get you to a proper clinic."
A drink and a warm bed. It sounded great at the time.
"Thanks, I owe you one," I reached out to shake his hand. He shook it, tight, and strong, and when the grasp broke, I noticed his hand trembled. He softly grazed my cheek with his index finger, and then I heard the door open. Celeste brought the tea, and quickly left. I was still feeling dizzy.
"It's not a problem my dear. I'm just happy to be in service again. My name is Hiram Tennant. I was a doctor during the war, and was injured. Let me get you that drink."
I waited and sat up. I reached up to my head, and my shoulder felt like it was broken, I could barely move it. I touched the side of my face with my other hand, and felt the bandage. He brought over the brandy in a beautiful crystal decanter and laced the tea with it. I could only use my off hand.
He poured his brandy straight into a glass, and I still noticed the shake. I wondered if he was going to stitch me up when Celeste entered in again. She clicked her heels to get Hiram's attention.
He turned and walked over to her. She made some sort of gesturing motion, and he nodded at her, and put a hand on her shoulder. It looked to me as if he was reassuring her and she smiled at him weakly. I figured I must have woke the whole household up or something. I didn't know who this weirdo was, but I figured the booze was good.
We didn't talk long, and after the brandy took hold, he led me to a bedroom.
It was brilliantly lit, with candles all around, and an enormous canopy bed. Several portraitures in oil were on the walls. The windows, unseen, covered with red velour draperies. Detailed wood features in the corners and at the floor made me realize that someone had spent a lot of money in this room.
Lying on the bed was a beautiful nightgown. White, gossamer fabric with frills at the sleeves, neck, and hem. My jaw dropped. I hadn't worn a nightgown like this since I was six.
"I, uh, uh." I stammered.
"I shall send Celeste in to assist you with undressing if you like. I'll be in to visit you in the morning to tend further to your wounds. He turned to look at me. His eyes had the same kindness that was there when he poured the brandy, and I swooned for a moment.
I swallowed and then said, "No, no, I can take care of myself. Look, doc, I appreciate a
ll this. After tomorrow, I'll be out of your hair."
"Don't you worry. It's not often we get visitors out here. I can send you to a proper hospital once you're out of bed. Please, indulge me. It's not often I get to heal anyone, anymore," He said. His eyes were tender, as if he only existed to make me better.
I nodded, by way of reply. He stood, and left.
Wincing in pain, I eased off my leather jacket, and looked at the full-length mirror behind the door. There was a cloth bandage neatly tied to my head. I could only barely slip off my t-shirt, to find that the shoulder was an enormous black and blue bruise. I'd never been wounded in all of my tours of duty, and now, thanks to my stupidity, I owed a perfect stranger my life.
I could only get undressed with one hand, and it took me quite a while to get out of my tattered pants. I gasped as the door opened, and put the shirt over my body. I heard a weak voice call softly, "Miss?"
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