August 2025
Do you ever have those moments when the world dissolves, and even in ebullition’s very center, you cannot name its genesis? One instant, you are buoyant upon a sheet of noctilucent water; the next, you are held in euphoric suspension, untethered, as if every sensation had conspired to desecrate you. No intoxicant guides you here; it is simply Hesperian magic.
Such was this night, and it had been a wonderous evening. I felt oddly absolved of all expectations, released from the delicate burdens of hostessing etiquette. I simply was, and whatever would unfold, would. My four Olympian companions and I had set out in the golden tail of afternoon; seeped in otium until the wind hushed, the sun had abandoned its trek and sunk beneath the lush, undulant hills, leaving a tenebrous blush at the rim of the world. Night pulled on her indigo mantle; the stars winking through like scattered jewels. After floating for hours, the water grew chill, and we abandoned the inky waters for the quiet hush of the boat. I reclined atop the warm engine rectangle casing, and the lake’s gentle undulations rocked me toward a drowsy, decadent peace.
Masculine hands traced the ascent from my knees to my hips, gliding as if they knew the cartography of my body, fluent in the secret palimpsest of my petite form. My eyes remained closed; I merely smiled, a soft, consenting curve of lips. There is a singular comfort in a sanctum of friends, where trust obviates petition and the body is understood without negotiation.
The stalwart hands explored further, brushing over the swell of my breasts, drawing from me a quiet affirmation, a willing surrender. For years, their ample fullness had been a source of disquiet, but now they were vessels of pride and titillation. My triangle of modesty, a vibrant pink thing tied loosely at my hips, yielded to deft fingers, and the first quicksilver shivers rippled through me. My toes curled as a fingertip slowly traced my folds…oh, this would be very, very good. I felt the god position himself atop the casing and situating himself just so between my legs. I waited, grinning into the dark.
Then…eruption. My Inner Goddess, only lately returned from her hiatus, seized the helm. Hands became worship, the boat became an altar, the gossipy stars themselves bent to witness our sacrament. Breathy laughter frayed into guttural moans, the ministrations of the ruthless Olympian rending me open in an unholy jouissance. Each wolfish drag of his tongue scored me like claws across raw filament, my breath collapsing into hoarse gasps, expletives torn unbidden from my throat. I sank my teeth to the flesh of my own knuckles, half in restraint, half in frenzy, desperate to cage the animal cries that clawed their way upward from my heaving bosom. Yet, with his arms, iron-bound and unyielding, clamped to my legs, the god summoned meteoric waves, each a comet searing through me, leaving trails of fire and shadow etched upon my flesh falling, endless, into the blackened maw of night.
Yet even in the wreckage of myself, my body’s tides were obstinate, refusing surrender. I ached for the floodgates to break, to lose their torrents without restraint, to cast myself wholly and unashamed into the night as I never had before. The ardent god between my thighs wrought every skillful cruelty a god might wield on a mortal. Orgasms detonated in incandescent succession, yet still the inner ocean withstood as if it had become some barren cataract, offering nothing. My Inner Goddess had returned, fierce and obdurate, but some fragile remnant of mortal flesh lingered, shards of myself still mending. For an instant, I feared the god drawing my soul from my apex might take offense, but then fear was whisked from me, dissolved, as I was unmade into stardust beneath the Moon Goddess’ unblinking eye.
A second god rounded my altar, strong arms hooking beneath my own, wrenching me back until my head tipped over the rim. I yielded, suspended between them, caught, desecrated, yet rapturous. The stars above did not giggle but leered, conspirators to my undoing. My eyes rolled back beneath the weight of their wicked hedonism, my nakedness laid bare to the night air, bound between two consuming divinities. Lust thundered through me, and my Inner Goddess rose in imperial ferocity, a queen enthroned in ruin. My only torment was that the deluge of nectar would not come, no glittering river to flood their altar, no shameless cascade of release. I burned to make the god understand: it was no error of skill on the god’s part but a latency of stubborn fatigue of my flesh, still marred by overtaxation. I sighed, surrendering the futile attempt to force the floodgates, and let myself be wholly taken by the sinuous labyrinth of his tongue, by the thick, insistent fingers that plundered me, unspooling every shiver of my being into delicious, frangible dissolution.
Across the narrow width of night, two shapes stirred, one male, one female, the corybantic rhythm of bodies in silk-dark shadow. Their murmurs tore the air, lips on lips, nails raking leather as the goddess scrabbled for purchase, her ribboned laughter shredded into ragged sighs. Their rites bled into mine, fanning a feral hunger that gnawed at every fiber, consuming thought and restraint alike.
Blind in my own delirium, I ached to see them, to witness their bodies press against the umbral of night, to drown in the beguilement of their fervor. What dark art of hers drew guttural moans from the towering god? What honed rite of his ripped such cries from her throat? Each act struck as a jagged, carnal note into the night. My senses unspooled entirely, ears straining to drink the wet, slick symphony of their flesh. The cacophony of our exundation collided, fused, consumed the night, a nocturne of molten bodies, slick heat, and star-bright ruin, dragging me, helpless and burning, into the abyss alongside them.
The god between my thighs rose, a living pillar of impossible hunger, replacing the voracious ministrations of fingers and mouth with the full, throbbing weight of his body. His immense cock buried itself into the slick cathedral of my flesh with inexorable force. Gasps tore from me; shivers plummeted down my spine; my Inner Goddess offered herself in ragged, deliquescent fragments.
The god at my head cupped my jaw, tilting it with knowing dominance that cleaved me open from my core. I gagged as the god between my legs drove him deeper into my throat. Every gurgle, every stifled cry became a plangent note in their numinous hymn. The world, the fellow Olympians, the stars, the lake’s midnight susurrus, dissolved. There was only this: a frenetic duet of predation, my flesh alight, every ligament strung taut, every sinew burning in unbridled madness.
Sanctuary, propriety, all restraint, eclipsed. My throat and body became vessel and prey, sheened with sacramental sweat, simultaneously violated and exalted. The scent of their lust, coppery and thick, filled my lungs as hands and mouths, girth and teeth, pressed, dragged, bruised, and marked me. Every thrust was friction and fire, every tilt and grind a claim burned into my vitreous flesh. I shuddered violently, bones rattling, muscles quivering, my body a conduit of raw, insatiable hunger. Moans and gurgles tore from me, an unholy litany of surrender, pleasure, and exquisite agony.
I existed for nothing else; thoroughly engulfed, suspended between terror and bliss, the universe itself a silent, ensorcelled witness to my apotheotic unmaking. My skin burned under their grasp, cheeks and thighs mottled with the proof of their obsession. My senses ignited in star-dust brilliance, a fevered, ecstatic obliteration, sacred, savage, divine, and unbearably, achingly mortal. Every nerve screamed, every sinew coiled, every gasp and tremor a surrender to the gods’ merciless, carnal worship. I was hollowed, molten, and incandescent, suffocating under the bestial, unrelenting devotion of their hands, mouths, and bodies, claimed plenarily in the vortex of their obsession.
Time unraveled. My vision blurred, the edges of reality folded and twisted in one delirious spiral. One instant, I floated on the boat; the next, I was securing the pontoon to the dock. Blink, and I found myself pressed into the Demigod’s arms, lips locked in a possessive, sacred farewell. Then the world lurched violently, and I was wrenched over an Olympian’s brooding shoulder, hauled like a trembling quarry, and deposited on the bed.
Though a proper hostess would have planned and initiated, my mind spun like a kaleidoscope of senses, though no potion or intoxicant had touched me. My Inner Goddess purred in supreme delight at simply being. I was merely a vessel, and the god’s will orchestrated the inferno that once more ruptured through me. The sheets became a tempest beneath me as he plundered me utterly, each thrust a blinding ignition of my senses, one orgasm cascading into the next. My scent, wild and ferine, filled the air; every inch of me was pressed, bruised, used.
Beside me, a goddess of impossible, intoxicating grace writhed like living ivory beneath an Olympian god. Her hair, a dark cascade of honeyed silk, tumbled across her shoulders and the sheets, catching candlelight. Her body arched and shimmered, the swell of her breasts and the taut rise of her hips a study in sacred geometry. Her moans, deep and plangent, twisted with cries of unrestrained rapture, pulling me higher, a siren song that coiled around my core and sank into my blood.
Every quiver, every tilt, every glistening curve became an arcane incantation, a litany of fire and flesh that intertwined with my own turmoil. The feral fire, the ravenous rhythm of her cries, grazing my lips, wove a thyrsic fugue through the chamber, drawing me into spirals of ecstatic release, faster, deeper, higher than thought or reason could follow. Every gasp, every shiver, every slick, writhing contact was a note in this sacred symphony, a testament to devotion and abandon.
I surrendered entirely, suspended between Elysium and frenzy, my Inner Goddess roaring in untamed triumph. My body became the nexus of every godly intention and every stolen, dripping pleasure, and the goddess beside me, incandescent and fierce as midnight lightning, amplified it all, a living mirror of my own fire. Her body, her moans, her exquisite abandon, made my senses fracture into fevered hysteria, each sensation a dagger of ornate, dark indulgence. Every touch, every press of skin, every slick glide of muscle against mine was mine and hers at once, a baroque conflagration I burned to possess and share.
The world dissolved: no thought, no hesitation, only us, the gods, the goddess, and the relentless, cimmerian thrum of our bodies. Time splintered; each heartbeat and groan a hammer striking simmering flesh. I trembled, quivered, skin slick with sweat, bruised in places I would remember and shiver at later.
As the inferno waned, the goddess remained at my side, every beat of our slowing hearts a whispered covenant, every brush of her fingers, every taut line of her lithe muscle pressed to mine a treasure granted solely to me, a forbidden inheritance. I sighed into the exquisite weight of her presence, aware that my Inner Goddess, wings folded but ever vigilant, could not divine what delicious treachery this Olympian might weave. Every subtle twitch of her fingers, the glint in her eyes, every tilt of her head, promised a storm of desire. I quivered at the wanton uncertainty of her designs, knowing she could unleash chaos upon me… and I would welcome it.
And then… I knew no more, save the memory of fire and feather, shadow and sinew, bruised flesh and euphoric triumph. The night’s delicious weight, whether dream or delirium, left me both fulfilled and aching. My Inner Goddess schemed for the next encounter with any Olympians the Fates might send. As I sank into the hush of sleep, every fibre of my Inner Goddess burned with desire, her lips dripping with honeyed lechery, a darkly seductive summons to those audacious enough to join, to taste, to ignite the inferno that still throbbed within me, and claim the tremors of my surrender.
Until next time, XO. Elsie
Year of the Inner Goddess 