October 2025

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I sit at my desk, bathed in the argent glow of my twin monitors, the outside world a distant murmur. Monday’s whispers are powerless to disturb me. My fingers fly across the keyboard, yet the curve of my lips is a clandestine smile, a quiet testament to mischief and memory. My skin still hums with the lingering warmth of the sun, taut and supple from languorous hours by the lake, the scent of cool water and sunbaked earth still clinging faintly to my hair and arms, but it is the memory of him, of the gods whose presence both shames and exalts, that quickens my pulse and makes my very breath tremble.

Standing in the Great Hall of Jack’s abode, three figures reclined upon the couch before me. I remembered the impish beckon of Hyperion’s hand, the delicious trepidation that made my Inner Goddess prance, daring, coy, as I pressed myself between his knees. My hands cupped his jaw, savoring the tickle of his soft, midnight beard, and my lips met his in a kiss tinged with curiosity and playful flirtation. The sensation was daedal, a heartbeat suspended in time, sending butterflies in my stomach into a gleeful tizzy. Reclined just behind Hyperion, Jack and Eos lay in a serene embrace, a tableau of ease and desire that drew my hooded gaze, curiosity alight, to their languid, intertwined forms.

As if guided by one mind, the four of us drifted toward Jack’s chamber. Morning light, filtered through curtains heavy as velvet, spilled in muted shafts, draping the room in clandestine shadows, each one whispering of secrecy and suspended anticipation. In Jack’s arms, I felt my breast pressed to his bronze bare chest, the torrid embrace of him seeping into every sinew. Memories of teasing him that morning flickered through me like flame: how I had traced the swell of his hardness with languid fingers, coaxing him to the brink before claiming the furious beat of my own yearning. I had mounted him with impish audacity, seeking my own frenzied climax, only to roll away with a mock admonition that the world awaited us. Yet still, the twin fires of our longing burned. Insistent. Ravenous.

The sweltering heat of bodies pressed together became an elixir, heightening every nerve, every shiver of anticipation. There was a cadence, a delirious tempo interlaced with languid, deliberate ease. Every new, exploratory hand upon my body was a revelation, making me acutely aware of my curves, of the intoxicating sweetness of being discovered. When Hyperion murmured, hesitant, inquiring if he might be too forceful, I laughed, a low, mischievous sound, touched that he cared enough to ask. My Inner Goddess growled her approval, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. There was no hesitation, no faltering, even as others lingered nearby. Fervor beguiled us with unshakable authority, and I yielded willingly, savoring each daring exploration.

The room itself seemed to conspire with our indulgence. Each breath I drew was steeped with them, Hyperion, Jack, Eos, and with the siren call of the lake, its cool embrace whispering in tensioned contrast to the current of fire that threaded through my body, insistently, deliciously.

Hyperion’s mouth lingered on me, deliberate and teasing, each brush of tongue a private promise that made my toes curl and sent ebullient tremors pooling low and hot. His fingers traced the hidden hollow within, fondling with quiet insistence, coaxing tremors that raced through me like a secret thrilling fire. I arched into him, hips tilting, breath shallow, suspended between the exquisite ache of anticipation and the wicked delight of holding back, savoring the impossibility of this stolen moment.

Eos’s lithe form winnowed between Jack’s sturdy, pillared arms, her gaze smoldering with a knowing intensity, a living current of incandescence that danced through the room, heightening each tremor of my skin, each gasp that escaped me like a whispered transgression. Jack’s fingers wandered with languorous subtlety, brushing over first Eos’ and then my own fevered flesh in deliberate, teasing arcs, a quiet summons to the conflagration that seethed between us. Hyperion’s mouth traced the apex of me with a patient, reverent precision, every flick and glide coaxing tremors that pooled and rippled through me like molten gold, forbidden and irresistible.

I arched into him, hips tilting. Breath caught. Trembled. Every graze unraveled me, setting nerve and sinew ablaze, leaving me sublimely raw, suspended on the perilous precipice of abandon, yet agonizingly prolonged in the saccharine torment of anticipation.

The chamber itself seemed to swell and pulse with us, alive with the slow, intoxicating cadence of skin against skin, the electric tug of lips and fingers, and the heady, almost tangible perfume of venery and want. Minutes slipped into oblivion; there was only Hyperion’s tender, masterful mouth, Eos’s fervent exhalations, Jack’s provocative, tantalizing ministrations, and the creeping, inevitable pull of sensation that wove a delicate lattice of desire, leaving me trembling, breathless, undone, entirely, decadently, relinquishing all hold on life.

On all fours, hips lifted, shoulders bowed, I offered myself with reckless abandon. The air around us thick with heat and expectation. Hyperion pressed close behind me, his thick beard brushing the tender nape of my neck, each caress, each gentle graze coaxing shivers that set my nerves aflame. Eos, radiant and untamed, moved fluidly between the two gods, her soft moans and whispered exhalations adding to the growing, almost tangible eroticism of the afternoon.

When Jack moved behind me, the world ignited. His hands were sure and demanding, finding my hips, gripping, guiding, thrusting with an insatiable fervor that set my body quaking. Each thrust, each punishing penetration, unraveled me thread by thread, leaving me vulnerable, trembling, suspended on the knife-edge of surrender. Breath hitched in ragged gasps. Hips tilted. Body strained into him. I was lost in the violent, sumptuous riot of sensation only he could conjure, feral, urgent, utterly consuming. Fireworks of frisson shattered across my mind and body, waves crashing one into the next, unremitting and intoxicating.

Hyperion’s lips found mine once more, his tongue coaxing, probing with a soft but insistent patience, a decadent counterpoint to Jack’s fervid, urgent insistence. Eos’s exhalations wove through the space between us, her presence a shimmering, almost dangerous current of lasciviousness, watching, moaning, heightening every nerve, every quiver of skin. Gods, it was magnificent, no hint of jealousy, no whisper of discomfort, simply four beings entwined in a slow, sacred dance of ecstasy, each movement a note in a symphony of unrestrained compulsion.

The air was heavy with the scent of salt and want, skin pressed against skin, fingers tracing, lips brushing, bodies shifting with a languid, intoxicating modulation. Each gasp, each shiver, each stolen brush of touch set another layer of fire alight, leaving us suspended in the delicious, decadent embrace of this hedonistic ballet. Time itself seemed to fold, leaving only us, moving together, consuming and consumed, a perfect storm of flesh, breath, and the ravishing, impossible pleasure of immersion.

When the fever finally ebbed, laughter and ragged panting spilled into the warm air, mingling with the soft aftermath of glazed wonder. The call of the lake could no longer be denied. We dressed with languid care, savoring the last sparks of heat lingering on our skin, and greeted, with mischievous delight, the arrival of Isolde and Caius. The six of us, bearing hampers overflowing with delights and ambrosia, left the scene of debauchery to drift for hours upon the sun-dappled lake, the echo of passions lingering just beneath the surface of my skin, a sweet, unshakable vibrancy in the golden afternoon light.

Night draped the world in its obsidian veil, the faint flicker of candlelight dancing across the walls, painting us in deepening shadow and burnished gold. The scent of sun-warmed skin, of the lake’s lingering coolness, of indulgent chocolate and pizza, wrapped the Great Hall in a heady perfume. Eyes heavy with lethargic contentment, I nestled on the couch, cocooned between Jack and Caius, while nearby, Isolde’s serene, willowy elegance left the Hall feeling comfortable and at ease.

Silk loungewear clung to me in wicked temptation, the soft brush of fabric against my awakening nipples a teasing herald of eroticism yet to come. Fingers traced, lingered, demanded, gliding over the curve of my blouse, slipping beneath its fabric, exploring the apex of my desire, finally venturing beneath the waistband to discover the tender, sinful bud that shivered beneath the gods’ joined focus.

Caius’s fingers moved with meticulous, knowing measure, each press and glide sending waves cascading through me, setting nerves ablaze in delicious contradiction: taut, yet pliant; entranced, yet yearning. I writhed, a symphony of shivers and tremors, my moans overtaking the muted sounds drifting from the screen across the Hall. Jack’s low murmurs invited indulgence, whispers of retreat to the bed. Yet, there was decadent, hedonistic pleasure in lingering, letting the slow, deliberate undulation of need curl through the Great Hall like a forbidden fulfillment.

Eventually, I succumbed to the pull of the bedroom, the plum-hued waterproof blanket spread like a sacrifice upon an altar. Across the room, lounging like a regal queen upon her throne, Isolde observed with keen, glittering eyes, her gaze a mixture of appraisal and delight that made my pulse quicken.

Caius’s thick, bristled beard brushed against the delicate apex between my thighs, his fingers seeking the secret, sacred hollow that trembled beneath his insistence. My Inner Goddess quivered in wanton euphoria, reveling in the exquisite torment. Three gods had knelt before me, and still, even in the depths of my blissful exhaustion, I hungered for more. Tremors and cataclysmic, almost divine eruptions tore through me. Shattering. Consuming. Sacred.

Jack knelt at my head, hips pressing insistently forward, and I surrendered to him with worshipful, trembling devotion. My lips and tongue traced the familiar, swollen contours of him, each movement a tender invocation, each sigh and shiver a hymn to want and indulgence. Between him and Caius, I was caught in a rapture of smolder and attention, the friction of skin and muscle, the brush of beard against sensitive flesh, and the soft, insistent weight of fingers, all weaving a symphony of sensation through my body. My Inner Goddess reveled in her bacchanalian abandon, teeth sinking into my bottom lip, arching and curling with each exquisite stroke, each gasp that tore from my throat a litany of consignment and ecstatic delight.

The air was thick with the mingled scent of sun-warmed skin, salt, and musk. Every inhalation a dizzying reminder of their possession and my delicious, deliberate dissipation. On all fours once more, a devilish smile curling my lips, I embraced the truth of what a wickedly good girl I had been today. Hips lifted. Shoulders bowed. I offered myself without reservation. Each curve. Each tremble. A deliberate invitation.

Positioned on my hands and knees, I hovered…waiting as the gods converged on me once more. Caius’s tongue traced the familiar, intimate lines of my body, lingering worshipfully on my swollen pearl before sliding upward, teasing, daring, toward the forbidden. Every flick and press ignited sparks that rippled in crystalline fire along my spine, sending shivers cascading down my legs and curling my toes in helpless delight.

No…no…no…he shouldn’t, it wasn’t right! And yet, if it was not right…why did it feel so magnificent, so utterly consuming? I wanted to resist, to wrench myself away, but I could not. My flushed cheeks pressed into the damp bed linens, breath coming in ragged, reverent gasps, my Inner Goddess shrieking her unrestrained euphoria, exalting in the exquisite, unrepentant surrender of every nerve and fiber.

The room pulsed. Fingers traced arcs along my spine, brushing over taut, quivering flesh. Hips pressed and pulled. Each sequence a ritual of devotion, teasing, and abandon. My mind loosened its hold on reality entirely, lost in the ecstatic symphony of tongues, hands, and fire. Every nerve sang. Every shiver a sacrament. Time ceased.

Jack’s thrusts were merciless, a pertinacious battering that drove tremors deep into my core, each motion punctuated by his guttural growls. Spine arched. Knees quaked. His fingers sank into the supple curve of my hips, molding me to his pulse, bending me into helpless, frenzied undulations.

Before me, Caius knelt like an ember deity, his thick, bristled beard glinting with remnants of my nectar as my mouth worshipped him with shameless hunger. I drew him deeper into my throat, lips and tongue mapping every ridge, every curve, drawing from him sharp, intoxicating sounds that spurred my Inner Goddess to greater fervour. A creature of madness and defiance, striving to please and conquer in the same gasping breath.

My body rocked beneath Jack’s imperious resonance, my focus a fractured devotion between the two immortals. I clung to life in the tempest of his force while offering my fervent worship to Caius, cupping, drawing, surrendering, my breath trembling as his scent filled my senses. The duality of pressing strokes consumed me: Jack’s ruthless cadence behind me, Caius’s steady gravity before. Their opposing fires met within me. I became a trembling vessel of want. Sanctified. Undone.

I moaned like some darkling creature of lust and longing, pressing back into Jack’s frenetic rhythm, tightening around Caius’s sword, offering myself with feral precision, aching to claim their release as my own. My Inner Goddess convulsed, her wings unfurled in wild ecstasy, caught in the exquisite contradiction of mastery and surrender, of worship and desecration. Every nerve aflame. Every tremor a hymn torn from the body’s altar. The world dissolved.

The day had flowed like a river of indulgence, laughter, and languor entwined with unspeakable delight. And when at last the Moon Goddess reached her silver zenith, I sank into fresh linens, Jack’s arms a cocoon of warmth enclosing me in a silence too tender to disturb. A tranquil euphoria settled over my skin like perfume, delicate and soothing. I drifted between wakefulness and dream, intoxicated on the memory of lingering touch and the promise of its return, of whispered passions yet unclaimed, of days to come drenched in lust, pleasure, and release.

I sighed heavily.

Now, at my desk beneath the sterile hum of Monday, I trace the ghost of that night upon my skin. The glow of the monitors is a pale imitation of the moon’s caress; the click of keys, a faint echo of the meter that once commanded my breath. Outside, the world resumes its quiet rotations, but within me, my Inner Goddess still writhes, secret, smouldering, and unstated.

Until next time, XO. Elsie