August 2024 – Audio Version

The sun had barely winked below the horizon, and I sat on the verge of my seat, exhilarated for our journey to the home of the gods, a bosom region rich in hedonistic nirvana. The anticipation of this visit filled my insatiable Inner Goddess with a sense of thrill, setting the stage for a most memorable adventure. Bidding caution and low expectations, I voicelessly reminded her that not all visits progressed the way her devilish mind wished. She had harrumphed, arms folded below her bosom while staring out the window at the rolling hills—better her irritation with me now than disappointment later. 

After the opening ceremonies to welcome the throng of guests, the August Goddess of the Moon gathered her maidens and sister goddesses by hand with me in tow. She drew us to a secluded bower within Mount Olympus, a place of unparalleled respite. It had been some time since I had the honor to bask in the awe-inspiring celestial light of Aphrodite’s bower perched on the icy peaks of Mount Olympus. I trembled slightly, fearing my conduct would fall short of their worthy expectations. Nonetheless, I refused to retreat. 

As the goddesses stepped over the threshold, their gossamer garments dissipated from their immortal bodies, revealing their true celestial forms. With its soothing glow, soft cerulean light washed over the assembly, calming our senses and casting a spell of awe. Around us, music thrummed hypnotically, and watchers mutely convened around the perimeter.  

The Goddess of the Moon, her charm irresistible, motioned her companions closer as they knelt on the plush palette on its raised platform. Her long fingers beckoned me to approach. As a simple mortal, I fumbled as I scooted forward on my knees until I joined the circle of immortal divinities. My heart pounded with both trepidation and yearning. Leaning forward ever so slightly, the goddesses, sisters in their immortal bond, began gently embracing one another. 

Dazzled, I stared for what felt like hours at the feminine enchantment around me. Aristocratic fingers curled around regal necks, inspiring consenting faces nearer. Obsidian, golden, and auburn curls fell in delicate waves over porcelain skin. The silken strands tickled petite shoulders or spread down perfect backs, and still others flowed further to murmur about voluptuous waists. I nearly had to pinch myself and certainly had to remember to close my mouth. My Inner Goddess prodded me to participate lest the beauties before me declare that I was uninterested and carry on without me! 

How can one describe the divine essence of a woman’s kiss? Poets, minstrels, and even the divine, inspired by the magic that resides on a woman’s delicate lips, have all been moved to pin their love-struck memoirs depicting the incantation. Their muses are far more adept than my mortal pen, yet I am moved beyond words to express my interpretation.

Imagine a scarlet rose in all its supreme flawlessness, every delicate petal unfurled and welcoming with its stirring incense. You bring the blossom to your nose, allowing its velvety petals to cosset your cheeks. Its intoxicating scent enthralls your every thought, eliciting some intangible memory, long folded away in the deepest recesses of your core. Just so, rational thought abandons you, and weighty responsibilities fade into obscurity as you melt into the spellbinding bliss of a woman’s lips. You know, you will never be the same. You become a paltry vessel for her intangible pleasure. In the poorest of metaphors, such was my privileged experience. Regrettably, this description pales to impart the manner in which I lost myself to their divine offerings.

Unseen by our eyes, Aphrodite lifted the vials of her erotic incense. The potent elixir exuded an intoxicating fragrance, the mystic vapors swirling about the bower like an imperceptible mist entrapping goddesses, mortals, and the gods patiently standing guard at the pillars of her regal bower. Here, she reigned supreme. We were her devotees, strengthening her lifeblood with our worship. 

From behind, manicured fingers curled over my shoulders, guiding me into a reclined position on the rich pallet. Nervous and timorous, I closed my eyes, feeling a palpable sense of vulnerability, yet my Inner Goddess was receptive to the guiding influence of their divine inclination. 

Silken hands caressed the curve of each corporeal breast, and several wandered down my navel, never pausing until they gained my sensitive inner thighs. As if on a bed of springtime petals, I found every inch of my body seduced under their attentive fingers, fingertips tracing the outline of my impatient thigh while another brushed an errant curl from my cheek, placing a not-so-subtle kiss on the vacated skin. 

I moaned under their adoration, knowing I should reciprocate, but their mutual adulation utterly paralyzed me. I lost count of the hands, fondling and teasing my body as they gracefully solicited the tendrils of my need to the surface. The Goddess of the Moon was invisible to my eyes, yet my Inner Goddess was keenly aware of her immediacy. Before I could utter a word, her palms resting on my forelegs, her virtuoso tongue circled my dewey curtains. By that pure, simple act, I was undone.

At times, the gods of Olympus wielded their power for their own particular convenience. So it was that for space, Father Time, his hourglass in hand, was forbidden from ascending the majestic slopes of Mount Olympus. As a result, hours could have easily slipped away unnoticed, so ensnared was I by the captivating glamour and beauty of the sultry goddesses. Their divine cunning left me spellbound, lost in a world where time was a trivial concept. As my orgasms augmented, the peerless beauties transformed into abstract forms, drifting around me. My Inner Goddess was incoherent, hostage to the enchanting dominion of one or more goddesses.

As my screams of irresistible release shook the leaves suspended over the bower, sumptuous hands floated atop my skin until every inch of my body glowed from their whispering touch. Fireworks…no electricity…no a Tsunami of orgasmic waves…this is not coming out right…arduous flames? Would that I could chronicle the exceptional manner by which the goddesses gesticulated, teased, and fostered my involuted climaxes. A studious part of my brain strove to memorize their techniques. There was a tantalizing finger sliding just so through my curtains. Erotic lips compact around the entirety of my feminine as an arresting tongue tip dined on my hidden nectar, flicking and swirling just so. I was a hopeless student.  

Fingers…tongues…what were they doing to me?! Wait…there was a different mouth on each breast! Gods. Of. Olympus! With intrinsic brilliance, the gifted goddesses knew how to seduce my body and Inner Goddess until she dissolved into a mirage of starlight. 

Unanticipatedly, the curtains of a goddess were placed over my face! Too absorbed by the charisma of the goddesses, there was no time for my mind to reminisce on the past or overanalyze my inadequate skills. A goddess wished to be serviced, and who was I to deny a goddess her right? Floating just enough to allow me to breathe, yet in reach of my mouth, I thrust my tongue upward, taking long strokes up one side and then the other of her sweet curtains. I repeated the effort a few times before pursuing her shy pearl. I am not sure if my succor was woefully inadequate or if the Goddess merely delighted in her dominance. In due course, she removed herself and was soon entangled in the arms of a sister goddess. My Inner Goddess licked her lips.

Meanwhile, my body continued to thrash in the thralls of recycling orgasms. The Goddess between my thighs had not retired but redoubled and accentuated her efforts. My right palm clamped over my mouth in a vain attempt to muffle clamoring cries. The gracious goddesses would not stand for it, one of them slipping her fingers to intertwine within my own as she purred indicative naughtiness in my ear, our palms clamped together. Oddly unconfined by the chafing ropes of anxiety, I surrendered to their opulent care.

At last, a confident hand slipped under my head, lifting it slightly off the bed. My last orgasm had been allowed to ebb and momentarily evanesce. Though the pavilion was dimly lit, it was a minute before my bleary eyes could make out the shape of a proffered tumbler. My mind was so numb from the tremendous encounter that I could not help but feel a deep sense of respect towards the Goddess of the Moon, who patiently coached me through the steps of drawing the revitalizing water from the chalice straw. My Inner Goddess was grateful for the subdued lighting to hide her embarrassed blush. 

I took advantage of the brief respite to assess my body and surroundings. For one, a particular god caught my eye. His face beamed with such brilliant happiness it fought for preeminence in the glittering bower. I wondered if the regal Moon Goddess on her lofty throne was possessed by a jealous nature. Surely, his smile had reached her heavenly court. 

Regardless, the sight of him and his radiant joy at our environment made my heart skip several beats. How long had My Love been witness to my submission? However, the vision of the resplendent Goddess, her skin of the purest milk and body bent at 90 degrees over the bed, arrested my breath. My Inner Goddess cheered in sheer exuberance, wanting to high-five the fetching Goddess for enticing My Love. 

“Well done!” She grinned at the pair as My Love drove into the pixie goddess with singular vigor.

That was all I managed to mentally string together before the Goddess of the Moon, her silken curls tickling the valley between my breasts as she moved up my body and to my bejeweled ear. Hovering her nude body over my own, the luscious weight of her breasts resting on mine, her silken locks coursed over my bare shoulder and exposed neck. I noted that she carried a uniquely feminine scent, a blend of exotic coconuts and the comforting warmth of vanilla with a hint of floral fragrance. Her tracking fingers left a lingering allure in the air, inviting the passerby to bask a little longer in her presence. The scent evoked feelings of nostalgia, tenderness, and suggestive mystery, wholly distracting me from her breathy words.

“Are you ready for some cock?” Her risque words dripped with amber honey. Intoxicated with her nearness and the artistry of her sister goddesses, I could only nod my response. 

“Anyone in particular?” She crooned. Parts of her were poised above me, but other domains, distracting regions, lingered in contact with my quavery flesh. In the cobalt lighting, her obsidian curls tickled my reactive nipple, causing my Inner Goddess to bite her lip.  

“Anyone.” My faltering voice came out as part answer, part question. I could not believe my Inner Goddess had been so forward in her request! Thankfully, my Inner Goddess was presiding with executive governance and would not relinquish control to allow my anxious mind to stew on the possible implications. Father Time was banned, the stars were bright, and I was in the presence of beguiling immortals. Nonetheless…I hid behind my long lashes, biding my time and unsure how the Goddess of the Moon would proceed. 

Merciful heaven. With a regal gesture, two noble Sentinels were beckoned away from their post on either side of the door. Only then did I remember them. They had accompanied us to the bower. As if in choreographed synchronicity, the Sentinels hastened to obey the Goddess of the Moon as she retired to entrance another sensuous goddess. Sugared kisses were replaced with savory ardor, and dulcet tongues on my slit were exchanged for brawny professionalism and demanding fingers. 

One stalwart sentinel positioned himself at my side, and the other betwixt my thighs. The goddesses had been merciless in their devotion. My pearl was ripe and greedy. So it was with a single flick of a Sentinel’s husky tongue, ripped arms wrapped around the outside of my trembling thighs, securing my thrashing body and binding me in place, that I was sent tumbling beneath the waves once more. Her wings extended to their full imposing majesty, my Inner Goddess took flight as I writhed under the obscenely dynamic ministrations. 

As the night sky darkened to the blackest night, revealing the summer constellations, the stars shimmered with a mesmerizing brightness for their lofty Queen. To my eyes, the exalted assembly became a vague manifestation, shifting phantoms in Aphrodite’s heady mist. Amidst this, the air crackled with anticipation and frenetic energy, an unmistakable force that even the most formidable gods and goddesses could not ignore. 

Nude bodies undulated in unrivaled vibrancy and lust around me. Couples and throuples were knit together on the bed, against the wall, and leaned on a chair in a kaleidoscope of sybaritism. Sib er i tism Spectators stood about the edges of the pavilion transfixed, their awe-struck gazes fixed on the unfolding spectacle. 

I found myself, petite feet planted and legs spread as a Sentinel wrought his fierce reckoning within my clenched cocoon. How I transitioned from my back, legs supported on different Sentinel’s shoulders to my current 90-degree situation is a mystery for the ages. The only thing my Inner Goddess cared about was attaining the next crest of her debilitating orgasm. 

My mind stood in shock at my body’s aptitude and unflagging energy. A small part of my conscience worried if I was embarrassing myself for my deafening screams and if I was comporting myself with grace and circumspect respect. Was there a stipulation for how long one should tarry in Aphrodite’s bower? Or a demarcation for how many deities a mortal availed herself of? My Inner Goddess shushed me with a long, manicured finger on my lips as she redirected my attention to the Sentinel’s monolith battering my inner gate.

Gruff hands compelled me onto the bed and on all fours. I waggled my derriere in taunting solicitation. The Sentinel was on me once more, his cannonades unrelenting as I pressed backward into the volley of unbroken impulsion. Abstractly, my Inner Goddess perceived the impetuous Sentinel’s tenacious vitality. She was most grateful for his fiery zeal and more than a little smug for keeping up with his rampage. She silently high-fived me.

Sometime later, a number of the contingents parted in search of libations or to rejoin the gay company beyond the bower. My thirst slaked, I found myself uncomfortably nettled with a consuming need from my apex. My salacious pearl seemed unsated and was making herself a distressing nuisance. I craved…more! I shook my head at my excessive libido. Sometimes, I really was too much, even for myself. However, if the body was willing…

Strolling in the night air, I was a wee bit perplexed. I wanted to act with decorum and ingratiate myself in the Olympian society (my Inner Goddess would tell you that this was partially a lie and that I was just far too insecure and reticent to requisition more devotion…which is kind of, maybe true). With a solution in mind, I slipped my bullet vibrator from my satchel into my palm, making my way back to Aphrodite’s bower.

This tactic required no assistance. I could provide my own pleasure AND witness the licentious couples who had remained behind. My Inner Goddess clapped her hands in approval. It would be my own private showing; no need for the Rolodex of dissolute exploits to fuel my climax. 

I sprawled on the foot of the pallet, out of the way of the consummate gods and goddesses commanding the majority of the bed. I rested my left foot on the shin-hight footboard, my right leg open like a butterfly wing as I slid the toy into its accustomed place just to the left of my pearl, indenting the small button on the top of the device. It instantly buzzed to life, and I groaned as the vibrations activated all 10,000 nerves. My eyes closed, my body arched, and I bit my lip. Yes, that was what I needed. 

An intrepid finger caressed my left breast. Nothing impertinent, more announcing its presence. The fingertip began from the outside where my bosom meets my ribs and wandered upward, almost to my pert nipple, but at the last moment, it swept south to the dark permanent lines adorning my breast. I did not know who it was; honestly, I was apathetic. I just wanted him to continue and see what more he had to offer. I swelled upward, pressing the full of my breast into his palm, a mixture of entreaty to continue and consent for his companionship. Blessedly, a third Sentinel was amenable.

Under the gratifying attention of the Sentinel’s curious fingers and warm mouth with its accomplished tongue, it did not take long for my pearl to reach fruition. The epicureanism of the bower, my dozens of earlier orgasms, the masculine mouth, its tongue continuing to pamper my nipple, and hearty lips sealed over my breasts were forces I could not withstand. The subsequent outburst left me shaking in delicious aftershocks. 

About that time, an unknown god positioned himself between my trembling thighs. Yes, yes, yes! More!! I knew it was a god from the insistent way he parted my feeble legs and the strength of his hands on my porcelain flesh. There was indisputably a distinction between the manner in which a compassionate goddess and a feral god handled my mortal body. 

Rapacious, I reached between my thighs to guide the granite to my curtains in order to moisten the tip on my recent release. To my muddled mind, something was not right. I stroked a fingertip the length of the shaft – no protection!! This would never do! I peered through the blurry fog of my indulgence, seeking my suitor’s identity as I wiggled away, ever so slightly in my weakened state. My voice, gravelly from my shrieks, dictated protection. 

“Hey, Honey, it’s me.” The welcome baritone rumbled through my tickled heart. 

And so it was! Blinking furiously to clear my sight, I saw the face of my Beloved beaming down on me as he slipped protection over his girth. My Inner Goddess laughed in bemusement and chuckled at my obliviousness and joy. Now, these Olympians would behold My Love’s Herculean masculinity, and I would truly dissolve under his raw might. 

And what stamina and authority he possessed! My ankles secured on his shoulders, My Love slid between my curtains. Not waiting for my silken cocoon to acclimate, he drove into me with a claiming gusto.

Ensuring permission from the Sentinel, waiting quietly on my left, I cupped his tight jewels, my fingertips guiding his bulging glory to my throat and waiting tongue. The tremendous debauchery that ensued can barely be recounted. Filled from both ends, my Inner Goddess screamed in triumph as my orgasms flared to life for the millionth time that night. 

My legs atop his strapping shoulders, My Love thundered his powerful supremacy until I was required to, momentarily, release the stiff glory from my throat and press my forehead against the Sentinel’s stout thigh as I screamed for all Olympus to overhear. Moderating his pace but not pausing, My Love gave me space to resume my worshipful adoration of the Sentinel’s steeled gift. I did so want to impress him. 

The sight of my veneration of the Sentinel was soon more than My Love could persevere in the face of. His hips were a pistoning blur as they slammed into me. The effect was the culmination of our mutual fulmination. It was beyond describable in the perfection of explosive detonation. We were left panting, gasping for air, and even a little giggle of jubilation escaped my lips. I thought it was the crowning moment for my Inner Goddess. How wrong I was!

The Sentinel had remained at his post at my side through our dissipation. As My Love rose to fetch a towel, the Sentinel’s curious fingers sauntered south, through the seam of my heaving breasts, down my navel to my dewy slit. I moaned at his intimate touch, not bothering to open my eyes. Two stocky fingers glided between my curtains, under the invisible ridge, and directly onto the cushion of my inner jewel. 

Ohh…my…gods. The Sentinel knew what he was doing! The two solid fingers beckoned to my recalcitrant nectar.  

The tender gesture drew my river to the forefront with poignant but insistent skill. It was answering his siren call, and I did not, could not hold back! I wanted, I needed to succumb to the libertine delights luring me under the brilliant cosmos. 

“Towel!!!” I shrieked to no one and everyone. 

My mind was just alert enough to recognize this was not my bed, and there was nothing but a thin mattress cover under me. Poor thing, it would never withstand the torrent I was battling to restrain, and it would be a losing fight in mere seconds. With astonishing alacrity, rugged hands bolstered my hips as the thick towel was spread beneath me. Meanwhile, the robust fingers never faltered in their succulent enticement. 

The watchful Sentinel wasted no time. Once the material was in place, the nurturing evolved into an unbridled jackhammering. It was similar to the Dom’s technique but distinctive in its eccentricity. My Inner Goddess did not stew on the peculiarities, for she was barely surviving the berserk orgasms that were shattering her essence and sending a spray of hot nectar in literally all directions.

My choppy apologies were met with chuckles, but the valiant Sentinel seemed unperturbed and did not slow or curb his furious ministration. The lazurite veins on my hands, arms, and scrunched forehead protruded from my opaque skin. Below the surface, straining muscles and rigid sinew threatened to snap under the strident demands of my climax. In my glorious distress, my scarlet nails clawed the linens until the fitted sheet pulled away from the nearest corner. 

The clever Sentinel stimulated my inner jewel, regenerating the orgasms rearing my flood while screams ripped from my throat. What sweet torture! Impervious to my fellow companions, My Love, and my surroundings, I succumbed to the possessive climatic waves and drowned. The wily Sentinel did not conclude until he had thoroughly wrought about my soggy demise.

When, at long last, the governing god withdrew his possessive fingers, my orgasms finally dwindled. My body failed me, and I went exhaustively limp, drenched in my own fluids. Thankfully, this drained state did not last long. My Inner Goddess was too rapturous. She never felt so alive! So free and in tune with herself. 

I rose, blushing despite myself, and thanked my companions in a breathless voice. I felt a bit embarrassed and could not meet their eyes. The night had been perfect, and I wanted nothing to mar the impeccability of the Saturnalia. If they were bothered but the experience, I did not want to know just then. As one, we worked together to strip the last corner clinging to life on the pallet, smoothly replacing it with a new set of bedding. 

Stepping outside, I was greeted by the breathtaking beauty of the night sky and the magic of the multitude, swaying in their gaiety, their laughter and music blending into the night. Yet, a part of me yearned for solitude, for a hammock, a perch from which I could admire the celestial spectacle all night, lost in its grandeur. I longed to be bathed in the twinkling light of the distant stars, peaceful under the watchful eye of the Moon Goddess.

In that instant, My Love appeared at my side, his arm sweeping around my shoulder and pulling me into his confident embrace. He paused wordlessly, gazing at the distant galaxies with me. My soul sighed in contentment at his familiarity, and I nestled closer into his heat, feeling a profound sense of peace that surpassed any celestial spectacle. Who needed a hammock when one had a love like this? Perhaps it was time to retire for the night, melting as one in the comfort of his bed, a serene tranquility enveloping us as we drifted into much-deserved slumber. 

My Inner Goddess nodded in agreement. It was time to withdraw. I smiled, knowing her far too well. It was not sleep she had on her mind but something far naughtier. Shaking my head at her, I slipped my small fingers around My Love’s. With a nod of consensus, hand in hand, we faded into the night. 

Until next time, XO. Elsie