Triple Booked

by Mardi Ballou

  “Unforgivably late?” Pshaw. Nothing she did was unforgivable, which she’d have to explain to him when next they had a moment alone. “Surely our path will be there for us to resume at the time we choose. As to when that must be, dearest Ares, what could possibly constrain us to depart before we have enjoyed this place to its fullest?” Smiling at him, she challenged him to respond to a question with no fitting answer.

  Ares looked uncomfortably at Dionysus before answering. “We are already quite late—”

  She shrugged. “Then what’s the harm in being even later?” She patted Ares’ hand. “Surely as powerful a commander as you has instructed your soldiers not to hold you to the same strict schedule as governs a mere mortal?”

  “Well said,” Dionysus murmured.

  Ares, who did not look especially pleased, nodded. “Very well, my goddess. Because you request it so prettily. We will break our fast at Dionysus’ table. He is, indeed, a most generous host. But once we have satisfied our morning appetites, we must be on our way.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She looked from one to the other of her handsome companions. Yes, satisfying her appetite could take them well into the afternoon and beyond.

  Dionysus’ servants knew well the art of providing their master and his guests with fine food and drink while remaining unobtrusive. By the time he invited his guests to the table set under a full-leafed lemon tree, all was in place for a simple feast.

  Ares sat close to Aphrodite on the bench across from Dionysus, who poured wine. Ares, evidently still determined he and Aphrodite would depart promptly, hurriedly gulped down his cup. When he realized the others weren’t keeping pace with him, Ares looked at them both in disgust.

  “Wine like this is meant to be savored,” Dionysus chided.

  “For those who have the luxury of idleness,” Ares barked.

  Dionysus could see him scheming. Like a ripening plum, Ares could not be plucked until the right moment. Then, with the proper preparation in place, Dionysus would take Ares by the hand and lead him to an undiscovered wonderland. In anticipation, Dionysus’ penis swelled.

  “This wine is exceptional,” Aphrodite murmured. Her low-pitched voice resonated deep in his groin, exciting him deliciously. “Is this from your own vineyard?”

  Dionysus toasted her. “Perhaps. I prefer enjoying the wine to wondering where it came from.”

  “My lady asks so we can procure wine for our household,” Ares spat out.

  “No, my darling. I was just making conversation,” Aphrodite corrected him. Dionysus smiled benevolently. Though he wanted Ares to surrender to the sensual pleasures of the moment, he didn’t want to alienate the man too much. Ares broke off a hunk of bread with such ferocity one would have thought he’d had to do battle to get it. Good. Let him dissipate his warrior’s anger that way.

  Aphrodite ate her bread daintily and yet with appetite—the perfect blend. The bread, a coarse brown with a thick crust, tasted earthy, a far cry from divine fare. “You say this is how shepherds and olive growers eat?”

  “So they tell me.” Dionysus had become quite enamored with mortals’ food and wine.

  Aphrodite took a small piece and chewed tentatively. “But this is quite delicious.”

  “Try a piece of this cheese. It’s made from goat’s milk.” He cut a small cube and handed it to her.

  “Goat’s milk?” Ares echoed harshly. “That really is the fare of the lowest classes. My dear, it’s not fit—”

  Aphrodite held the cheese by her fingertips as if fearing some contagion. “Their bread is quite wonderful. Perhaps their cheese will be too.” Before Ares could take it from her, she nibbled a bit. Evidently deciding she needed a larger sample before making a judgment, she took a careful bite and chewed. “Oh, but Ares, this is quite wonderful, too.” She soon made a meal of the bread, with cheese and olives and the wine.

  Following her lead, Ares ate the same. “You are quite right, my lady. The flavor is pleasant.” Despite his agreeable words, Ares didn’t deign to smile. Yet.

  Dionysus enjoyed his own meal as he watched his guests eat. Aphrodite’s rosy lips were full and well-formed, covering even white teeth. He wanted to trace those lips and taste her sweetness with his tongue, his teeth, his mouth. His cock pulsed, and his desire for erotic satisfaction grew. He crossed his legs, which did nothing to cool his rising ardor. “I have some perfect grapes.” He held up the full bunch of perfect purple globes in offer.

  “I love grapes.” Aphrodite clapped her hands.

  “They are also wonderful with the cheese and bread.” Dionysus handed each of his guests a small bunch from the larger one.

  Aphrodite delicately removed a grape. She held it before her and examined it for a moment before lifting it to her mouth. Then she placed the tip of the grape in her mouth. Oh, gods. When she licked the grape, Dionysus shivered. The sensation of her tongue circling the tiny fruit resonated on his cock, and he almost cried out.

  Ares popped three grapes in his mouth and chewed determinedly. Was the man totally oblivious? How could he sit next to Aphrodite and ignore the sensuous invitation of her grape eating? Dionysus couldn’t allow this transgression to continue.

  His eyes on both of his guests, his cock pressed hard against his garment, Dionysus slowly inserted a grape into his mouth. When he bit down, the grape exploded in his mouth and yielded its sweet juice, splashing his tongue and the inside of his cheeks. He had to show Ares what he was missing.

  “Allow me.” Dionysus held a grape to his guest’s closed mouth. Though Ares was staring at him with his eyebrows lowered over fierce eyes, his lips opened to Dionysus’ light pressure.

  “I will put this in your mouth,” Dionysus murmured. “I want you to taste its juices. Just for you.”

  As if in a daze, Ares, for once, did as ordered. When he took the grape from Dionysus, his tongue briefly grazed the other man’s fingertip. Dionysus jumped as if struck by lightning. Ares looked startled. He licked Dionysus’ finger a second time and, with what appeared to be great effort, pulled back. In moments, he chewed the grape and swallowed hard.

  A tiny, bemused smile on her face, Aphrodite watched. Evidently wanting to join in the game, she took a grape and held it to Dionysus’ lips. Of course, he accepted. He even licked Aphrodite’s fingertip, but he wasn’t again jolted the way he’d been when Ares touched him.

  His cock, interminably hard by now, took center stage to demand satisfaction. Their fast broken, Dionysus judged it was past time to offer his guests—and himself—dessert.

  Chapter Four

  Ares intended to get out of this place with his lady, and quickly. He’d been against their stopping with Dionysus on their voyage. Dionysus had earned renown as a gluttonous, lusty lecher—the opposite of the values Ares held in esteem. Ares valued discipline, fierceness of resolve, courage in battle—the code of the warrior. For softness and comfort, he looked to the women in his life. Aphrodite was the best and most wonderful of all women—the one he’d vowed to win and keep.

  He swallowed down the grape with a rush of wine. Of course Ares knew about love between men. Many of his warriors, often the fiercest, indulged in this pastime. Once or twice, he’d even found himself drawn to a particular warrior in his camp. But he’d never acted on any such attraction, nor would he. He considered this sort of attachment an unfortunate distraction from a warrior’s duties, and he’d never indulged. After he’d forcibly spurned the last warrior who’d come to his tent at the darkest moment of the night, and only to himself would Ares admit how difficult this had been, he’d gained a reputation among all the armies as a hard-nosed ass. He remembered his pleasure the first time he’d heard himself sung of in that manner.

  But this Dionysus… Ares’ gut roiled and his body, despite his usual discipline, clamored for something mysterious, something hidden, something just beyond his reach. He despised such insubordination, even from within himself.

  Ares should have followed his instinct
s and not let Aphrodite persuade him to come here. But he knew the futility of regrets. He was here. He could no longer pretend to himself that his cock did not grow to its full manliness at Dionysus’ approach. When their disreputable host had held that grape to his lips, Ares felt something fierce crumble within him. And then when his tongue had inadvertently licked the other man’s fingertip… Ares groaned inwardly with the erotic ache of his straining manhood.

  Damn it all to the lowest level of Hades, Dionysus knew exactly what was going on with him. Ares could see it in the tilt of the man’s smile, in the gleam of his eye. Aphrodite also sensed something strange was going on. Her lovely green eyes grew wide as she studied him.

  Dionysus held a hand out to each of them. Quivering despite his attempts to remain solid and steady as usual, driven by a need he could not deny, Ares at first looked away. He strained to ignore that hand. But Dionysus wouldn’t let him. Dionysus took his hand. Though Ares steeled himself to pull away and warn their host off, his throat closed up. No words came out, and Ares’ traitorous hand froze. He could not let go. The warmth that coursed through him at the other man’s touch shook him to the foundations of his being.

  In perfect contrast to Ares’ state of near collapse, Aphrodite serenely took Dionysus’ other hand.

  Still acting like the most accommodating and gracious of hosts, Dionysus walked between them to his large couch, standing in a bower of roses near a rapidly flowing stream.

  They walked in silence. Ares’ senses felt acutely aroused, in tandem with his engorged shaft. Never before, other than in a military campaign, had he been so achingly aware of his surroundings. Now he felt connected with every tree, every blade of grass, every chirping bird and even the tiny fish that swam in the stream. He was part of the grand tableau of nature, a being the benevolent sun smiled upon along with every creature. Ordinary and divine, all at once. He trembled to give himself up to the sensations and emotions that threatened to transform him.

  “You are so beautiful to me,” Dionysus whispered, evidently to both of them. Beautiful? Ares rejected that word as the other man applied it to him. Aphrodite, of course she was beautiful in every way. She was the personification of beauty.

  Dionysus. Yes, the large, rough-featured man attracted him, too. Desire to taste and possess him flowed through Ares like an undeniable fever. As if his hand had taken on a life of its own, Ares reached over, took hold of Dionysus’ erection and squeezed.

  Gods. He nearly climaxed at the way the other man’s organ felt in the palm of his hand. “I want—” His voice came out like whisper. Heavens. He didn’t even know how to name what he wanted. His cock, however, seemed to have no doubt or confusion.

  Dionysus closed his eyes and his face glowed with pleasure. “And you shall know satisfaction. We all shall,” he promised.

  Ares groaned.

  Dionysus held out his arms and took both Ares and Aphrodite into his embrace. Ares luxuriated in the sensuous warmth of being near both these extraordinary beings. The sensation of the other man’s erection pressed against him set off waves of pleasure that nearly caused Ares’ knees to buckle. Fortunately, by holding on to both Aphrodite and Ares, he was able to remain upright. He couldn’t tell which was fuller, his heart or his cock.

  Dionysus drew him closer. Ares knew the other man was going to kiss him, but nothing could prepare him for the sensation of Dionysus’ powerful claim. Though Dionysus began with a gentle brushing of lip to lip, the contact did not remain gentle for long. His teeth strong and lips demanding, Dionysus waged a campaign to conquer Ares’ mouth. The other man nipped him, challenged his tongue to a fight and demanded surrender.

  With his whole body and soul, Ares said yes.

  They stood together, joined by their avid mouths. For a moment, Ares had the sensation he and Dionysus clung together atop Mount Olympus, with a wind blowing around them. Then reality returned, and Ares became cognizant of his surroundings. Aphrodite, his lady, his goddess, was massaging each man’s back with her nimble fingers and murmuring encouragement to both.

  When Ares once again could think, he chided himself for his intense focus on Dionysus which all but excluded Aphrodite. Certainly, he wasn’t thinking nearly as much of her pleasure as he was about what he shared with the other man. But then he remembered that every act of loving was part of universal Aphrodite worship. Even if she wasn’t kissing or being kissed, Aphrodite drew sustenance from the sexual energy created and exchanged.

  This didn’t mean they should continue ignoring Aphrodite, nor did he want to. He desired both his goddess and his host. Unsure how he could slake the new hunger and thirst that now consumed him, Ares realized the two others knew far more of these matters than he did. Though the notion of any kind of surrender would usually be anathema to him, this time surrender would be divine. For just this brief moment in his life, he would put himself into the hands reaching out for him.

  Aphrodite loved surprises—usually. Being a divine, little anymore surprised her, so she’d become accustomed to take her delight in other ways. After having been with Ares for many sunrises, she’d thought she knew him very well. She didn’t suspect he could possibly spring a toe-curling surprise on her. Or hadn’t until just moments before.

  It was impossible to mistake the magic between Ares and Dionysus. As the goddess of love magic, she appreciated witnessing how this force, her creation, played out. Fortunately, she was usually at the center of the passions that filled the air around her. But this time, though she knew both Ares and Dionysus yearned to worship at her altar, she was also aware that their longing extended to each other.

  With his response to Dionysus, Ares had surprised her. Rather than continuing on their journey, they would devote a good part of their day to satisfying the desires her worship aroused. She couldn’t think of a better way to enjoy the sunshine.

  “My lady.” Ares touched her arm.

  He stood before her in his naked glory, having flung away his garments. Always sensitive to masculine beauty, Aphrodite sucked in her breath at his magnificence. Funny, until now, he’d always insisted on covering his body, making love in the dark. Now he stood tall and proud, proclaiming his mastery with his stance. “Ares, you are magnificent.”

  He bowed his head shyly, saying no word to acknowledge her compliment.

  Dionysus, also gloriously naked, joined them. Aphrodite savored the wonder of being with two such men. Ares’ long full cock rose high from his tight balls, casting a shadow on his flat muscular abdomen. The desire to feel him in her ruffled her feminine center. Seeing Dionysus, whose thick heavy organ pointed across from his large, dusky balls made her yearn to be filled both front and back. The three of them would move together in perfect rhythm—

  But the desire sparking between the two men could not be denied or postponed. Granting them both her blessing to satisfy their mutual hungers, Aphrodite stepped back. Ares looked at Dionysus with beseeching need. Dionysus didn’t require a second invitation. With a growl he embraced Ares again and kissed him hard. Aphrodite watched the men closely. The shorter, more muscular Ares appeared more than ready and willing to meld with Dionysus’ taller, broader form.

  Then Dionysus drew his head back and looked at Ares as if he were memorizing every detail of the other man before he began to touch Ares. His eyes locked with Ares’. He placed his hands under Ares’ arms and slowly ran his palms and fingers down Ares’ sides, lingering on the hipbones, tracing the pelvis bones around to the man’s straining erection. Ares gasped. Dionysus lightly stroked his cock just once before moving his hands away.

  Feeling Dionysus’ touch as if his hands were on her, Aphrodite moaned. When Dionysus positioned Ares’ hands and motioned for him to repeat what had been done to him, Ares complied. When his hands lingered on Dionysus’ stiff organ, Dionysus laughingly withdrew. “Not yet,” he murmured.

  At the sight of the two men touching each other, Aphrodite felt her feminine core grow damp and soft with desire. She stroked herself bri
efly, then, following the same discipline Dionysus demanded of Ares, reluctantly moved her hand away.

  Dionysus next began to play with Ares’ nipples and invited Ares to reciprocate, which he did promptly and with great verve. Aphrodite, whose own nipples were stiff as the men’s cocks before she began to massage them, put her hand under her gown and around her breast and began to pleasure herself. It was rare for her to indulge in this way, for she had always had many partners who were more than eager to provide caresses. But for now, this was good. She experienced the sweet arousal inspired by her touch and the scene unfolding before her. Though she pressed her legs together, she would not touch herself intimately until the men advanced to the parallel action.

  Ares stood with his powerful legs open. Aphrodite could see how he moved his hips, seeking pleasure. Dionysus evidently wasn’t going to make him wait long. With one hand still stroking Ares’ nipple, Dionysus lowered his other to Ares’ erection. This time, he didn’t remove his hand after just one caress.

  Ares closed his eyes and groaned. His hip movements quickly sped up, and he thrust hard into Dionysus’ hand. Dionysus, for his part, was saying something to Ares, but the words were too soft for Aphrodite to catch. What she did catch was Dionysus’ moan when Ares took the other man’s cock into his eager hand and began to pump.

  For Aphrodite, who could almost reach a climax just from watching a man attend his own aroused shaft, seeing two gorgeous men play with each other’s nearly sent her into orgasmic spasms. Her hand quickly found her very wet pink folds, and she rubbed herself exactly as she craved.

  The astonishingly adept Dionysus moved the skin over Ares’ penis, squeezing his balls, and caressing the weeping head in complete attunement to Ares’ reactions. Ares clearly tried to follow Dionysus’ lead, but he lacked the other man’s experience. Still, Aphrodite, lost in her own pleasure cloud, suspected Dionysus would not end up dissatisfied.