The force of his thrusting, combined with the pleasure of fucking his ass with the dildo as he plowed me, brought me to a boil. My whole body shook as my load shot from my prick and slopped over Jeff’s neck and lips, the final spurts falling onto his hairy forearm as he continued to jerk me off. Feeling my cum on his mouth, Jeff licked it off. I felt his thrusts become harder and more heated, and he started to moan. Pulling the dildo almost all of the way out, I pushed it back in until the end was smack against his beefy ass. As the cock buried into him, Jeff’s prick swelled inside me as he poured his jism into my belly in great heaves.
After he came, I remained on Jeff’s chest as his cock grew soft within me. I rubbed my cum from his chest and fed it to him on my fingers, then bent to kiss him, tasting my scent on his tongue and lips. As we kissed, I felt him slide the dildo out of his butt and drop it to the floor.
“You looked like you really enjoy that dildo in your ass,” I said, rolling onto my back next to him.
Jeff laughed and reached for my prick. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “But now I think it’s time for the real thing.”
Bacchanal
I don’t remember where this story came from, really. I’d actually forgotten about it until I was looking through material for this collection and my friend Katherine said, “You have to use that Zeus one. I love it. ” I think I just wanted to write something very dreamlike and magical. Then again, who needs an excuse to fantasize about Greek gods?
If I had been at home, I would have chalked up the emptiness of the bar to the fact that it was only a little past six. But in Greece, the locals started congregating as soon as the shops had closed for the day. I had been in Cernunos for three months working on my latest book, and each night after work I’d walk down to the bar and soak up the local flavor. Usually the tables were crowded with groups of laughing people downing glasses of ouzo by the time I got there, so the eerie silence that greeted me as I came through the doorway was out of place.
Basil, the bartender, was standing behind the bar washing glasses. I walked over and took a seat at one of the stools. “Where’d everybody get to?” I asked.
Basil turned and set a glass in front of me. As he filled it with the thin local wine I had come to love so much, he smiled quietly. “You don’t know what tonight is?” he asked, looking at me with his liquid brown eyes shining.
“Yeah, it’s Friday. This place should be filled with about sixty people by now. I should be trying to figure out whose interested in taking a nice American man home for the night and you should be yelling at Nico to hurry up with another case of ouzo. So what gives?”
Basil laughed softly. “Tonight is not like other Fridays,” he said mysteriously. “Tonight is special. Tonight everyone is home, where I will be as soon as I finish washing up these glasses.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Is there a curfew or something I don’t know about? Did someone come in and turn the whole village into a convent?”
Basil started to dry a glass with the white towel around his waist. “Do you know about Greek mythology?” he asked.
“Greek myths? You mean gods and goddesses and all that shit?”
Basil nodded.
“Sure. I mean, I read it all in school. Jason and the Argonauts. The Trojan Horse. What about it?”
“Do you know of Bacchanal?”
I shook my head. “No, sounds like some kind of cure for jock itch.”
Basil didn’t laugh. “Bacchanal,” he said, “is the feast of the gods. One night a year the barrier between the worlds is thin enough for them to cross over, and they come to celebrate their power. It is dangerous for mortals to see them.”
“Wait a minute. You’re telling me that tonight the gods are going to appear in the village and live it up while you all stay inside? That’s nuts.”
“Maybe so,” he said. “I’m just telling you what the stories say.”
I finished my drink in one gulp and put the empty glass on the bar. “Well, I hope the gods have a good time,” I said. “I’m going to go back to my room and work on my book some more. I’ve got a deadline to meet.”
I waved to Basil and left the bar. Stepping into the cool evening, I looked up. The sky was just beginning to blush pink as the warm Grecian sun slipped into the arms of the clouds, and the air was cool with a breeze carrying the salty taste of the ocean. The streets were as empty as the bar had been, and I walked alone through the winding, narrow lanes of houses and shops. No dogs ran up begging for food, no one hawked fish from the stalls. The windows, normally filled with women chattering to neighbors across the street, were shuttered and silent.
I reached the house I was renting for the summer and walked up the stairs to my bedroom. I opened the shutters and looked out toward the hill that rose up just outside of town. At the top perched an ancient temple overlooking the sea below. It was this view that had made me decide to take the rooms. Since they had been largely ignored by archaeologists, the ruins were still mostly untouched. The only people who ever really went there were the kids who played hide-and-seek in between the crumbling pillars. I had set my desk up underneath the window and tried to break my frequent writer’s block by wondering what had happened there in years gone by.
I wrote for a while, but the story line kept slipping away from me. The wine Basil had given me had gone to my head with uncharacteristic strength, and I decided that the best thing for me was a good night’s sleep. Since everyone was apparently shut in for the night, there wasn’t much else to do. I shed my clothes and lay down on the cool, white sheets of the bed. The wind in the window swept over my skin, and I quickly fell asleep.
Some time later, a noise disturbed my dreams, and I turned over on the bed. The sky outside was now blue-black, and stars blazed against the backdrop in sharp relief. A full moon hung framed in my window, as round and pale as the abandoned shell of a sea creature. The noise came again, a low murmur like heavy waves falling on the shore. I got up and went to the window, looking for its source. Below me the town was still and empty, the houses showered in gold from the moon. The sound seemed to be coming from out near the temple. Looking in that direction, I saw a faint glow shining between the pillars of the ruins, as if someone had started a bonfire inside. It’s probably a bunch of kids having a little Bacchanal of their own, I thought, and tried to go back to sleep.
But the sound was infectious. When I tried to close my eyes, it became louder, filling my head and echoing through my mind. I tried putting the pillow over my head, but it didn’t help. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t go back to sleep. And for some reason, my cock had started to stiffen. It was stretching half-hard across my belly, begging me to take it in my hand. Deciding that I was never going to go to sleep now, I got up and pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt.
Without knowing quite why I was doing it, I left the house and headed out of town on the path that wound up the hill to the old temple. The air around me was cool, and I shivered as I walked barefoot along the sandy path, realizing that I had forgotten to put on my shoes. Reaching the crest of the hill, I found myself in front of the ruins. The crumbling columns reached up from moss-covered rocks into the night sky like the legs of a giant whose head swam somewhere in the stars. Light spilled out from between the pillars and poured down the long steps that led up to the doorway, the stones worn smooth from the feet of the ancient faithful.
Climbing the steps, I peered in cautiously through the doorway, not wanting to interrupt whoever might be there. Inside, the temple was filled with flickering light from torches placed on the columns. Just as I thought, there was a huge bonfire burning in the center of the floor. Groups of people were standing around the fire and sitting on the various pieces of stone scattered throughout the ruins, and I relaxed. It was just a bunch of kids after all.
But as my eyes adjusted to the firelight, a very different picture came into view. All around the temple were naked men. Some were leaning against the pillars, others were sitting near the
fire drinking from large cups. But most were fucking. Large carpets had been spread over the stone floor, and on them men, some in couples and some in groups, were making love. The moans that came from the writhing bodies rang through the cavernous room, and I realized that it was the same noise that had invaded my sleep.
I stared transfixed, watching the roomful of men grunting and thrusting against one another. The sound of their lovemaking entered my mind, and I felt my senses escaping from me as the smells and sounds of the orgy filled my head. Then I felt a hand in mine and came back to reality. Standing in front of me was a man. His black hair fell easily over his forehead, and his dark eyes looked like stones. His well-muscled chest was smooth and brown skinned. My eyes traveled down the ridges of his abdomen, and when I got to his waist, I paused, not believing what was before me. Below the man’s waist, the smooth silk of skin gave way to thick fur, and his legs were like those of a goat, ending in tapered hooves split up the middle. Between his legs hung a long, thick cock and a set of overripe balls the size of oranges. I shook my head and just stared at the creature standing in front of me.
“What’s the matter,” he said in a laughing voice, “you never see a satyr before? Or just not a prick that big?”
I looked back up, noticing for the first time the two small horns rising from either side of his forehead. There was a huge grin stretching across his bearded face, and his eyes were flashing.
“Um, no, I haven’t seen a satyr before,” I said, wondering what the hell was going on.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me into the room.
As he picked his way between the various piles of men on the floor, the satyr kept up a steady chatter. I was trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on around us, but every time I would stop to get a closer look he’d pull me away. Finally we found our way to the middle of the room, where the bonfire was crackling. A knot of men was standing there talking. When we came up, they stopped and looked at me. The satyr turned to me. “First,” he said, “we have to get rid of those clothes.”
He reached over and pulled up my shirt, tossing it onto the fire, where it quickly went up in flames. There was a murmur of appreciation as the men watching looked at my workout-toned chest. Then the satyr reached for the buttons on my jeans and let them fall to the floor. My cock jutted out from my body, swaying over my balls. I could feel the heat from the bonfire soak into my skin, and the blood started to rush to my dick, swelling it to its full length.
The satyr leered at my erect cock approvingly. He was stroking his own prick, and it stretched fat and heavy in his hand, a string of silvery juice hanging from the tip of the uncut head. I knelt next to the fire and the satyr moved toward me, stopping when his cock was bobbing in front of my face. Reaching out, I grasped his fat piece in my hand, barely getting my fingers around its girth. Coarse hair ran halfway up the underside of the shaft, and the skin below it was hot to the touch. Pushing from my mind the thought that a creature like a satyr shouldn’t even exist in the real world, I slipped my tongue into his foreskin, sucking up the pool of precum and thick funk waiting under the loose mantle that stretched over his swollen head.
The satyr pressed against my lips and slid into my mouth smoothly. I relaxed and let the full length of him work its way down my throat. Soon my face was pressed against the tangle of rough hair on his groin and I was breathing in his scent, a heady musk like that belonging to a woodland animal. His heavy balls dangled against my chin, and I reached up to knead them, my fingers folding around the warm pouch. I placed my other hand on his waist, tracing the line where the skin of his human torso melted into the pelt of his goat legs as he pumped my face slowly, pulling out just enough for me to take a quick breath before sliding back in.
I could feel the satyr’s prick swelling as I massaged it with my mouth, stretching his long foreskin between my lips as he worked his pole in and out. I tugged on his nuts, urging them to give up their treasure, waiting for him to come. Suddenly he pushed his cock as far as he could down my throat, his spunk gushing out and into my welcoming mouth in thick splashes. I swallowed greedily, milking the last drops from his straining cock. His cum was rich and fruity, like wine that had been sleeping in a cellar for many years and had soaked up the dampness from the earth. I gulped greedily, as if I were pouring the very essence of the earth into my guts, partaking of the same force that made the trees grow straight up from the ground and moved the moon through the heavens.
The feeling slipped into my mind, and I was floating away on a slow river. At the same time, my senses took on a new clarity. The room grew to new dimensions as I gazed around with a heightened ability to see what was happening even in the darkest corners. The fire burned more intensely, and I felt its beating in my chest. I looked up at the satyr and saw he was laughing.
“Now, mortal,” he said, “you will partake of things you have never imagined.”
I felt myself being lifted and carried by strong arms. I was laid on my back on a soft carpet, and then hands were caressing me. Looking around, I saw that the satyr had disappeared and I was surrounded by several other men. From somewhere came the smell of flowers, and someone rubbed warm oil over my chest and down my belly, working my muscles with a steady rhythm. I felt fingers close around my cock and begin to stroke it, gliding on the film of oil, coaxing spasms from my overheated balls. At the same time, a mouth covered mine and a tongue slipped between my lips, bringing with it another taste of the heady perfume.
I was enclosed by other bodies. Although I could not make out their faces, I felt the heat from their skin, took in the scent of their crotches and armpits as I rolled between spread legs and open arms. My mouth traveled over hairy mountains and through smooth-shaved valleys, working its way into the dark caves of assholes and taking in the strength of cocks engorged with lust and blood. The satyr’s potion had brought me almost to the point of madness, and I felt intensely the needs of the men around me. I sensed their mounting excitement as they slipped their pricks in and out of hungry mouths and gasping asses. Whenever someone came, his moans sang through my head and I felt his jism flood my soul.
For hours I swam in a sea of fucking bodies while the bonfire burned. Over and over I shot my load, sometimes into the hot void of an ass, other times into the throat of someone whose own prick was slammed deep into my gullet. It became impossible to distinguish one man’s cock from another’s fist, my own asshole from that of the man I was fucking. I would look up from taking a squirting prick between my lips and see a man riding my straining cock, his well-muscled torso rising and falling as he claimed my shaft with his ass cheeks, his face a mask of ecstasy. All around me men were jacking off, and their ropes of spunk slathered over my chest and legs, slicking my throat and mouth with salty pearls.
I was hungrily licking up the juices from between the ass cheeks of a beefy neighbor, my prick nestled deep in his willing throat, when the room was filled with a mighty rustling, as if many birds were descending at once. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into the eyes of the satyr. “Come,” he said. “The master wishes to see you.”
I stood slowly, rising from the orgy as if stepping out of a rushing stream. A body rolled over to fill my empty space, and the flow of passion continued with barely a ripple. The satyr led me to the other end of the room, slowing as we approached a large throne I hadn’t noticed before. As we came closer, I saw that a man was seated in the chair. He was looking out over the room, as if searching for something, and at first he didn’t appear to see us. The satyr pushed me forward so that I was standing right in front of the throne and the man tuned his attention to me.
I looked into his face and saw that his skin was tanned the color of honey. His eyes, dark beneath a tangle of wild hair, pulled me in as if I were tumbling into pools of water. I could feel his gaze traveling over my cum-stained body, appraising what he saw like someone perusing a piece of art before buying it.
Finall
y, he smiled slightly, showing off white teeth behind his full lips. “You have done well, Pan,” he said to the satyr. “This is one of the finest I have seen in at least a century.”
“Thank you, Master,” the satyr replied happily. “He is a beautiful boy. And he is rather long down below for a mortal.”
The man’s eyes swept down to my cock. While it had diminished somewhat in size during the inspection, it was still half-hard against my leg.
“Yes,” the man said slowly. “I think he will be the perfect ending to the night’s festivities.”
The man rose from his chair, bringing himself up to almost seven feet tall. His massive body was draped with a piece of white material cinched around the waist by a silver cord. He strode over and stood before me. The satyr scampered over from his place by the throne and fumbled with the knot in the belt. Freeing it quickly, he slipped the belt from around the giant man’s waist and pulled the cloth free.
Naked, the man was a sculptor’s dream. His huge chest was chiseled to perfection, the delicately pointed nipples standing out stiffly from smoothly rounded pectorals. His long neck led down to a stomach outlined with valleys and plains like a landscape seen from above. His arms were heavily muscled, the veins running like rivers down their sides, ending in broad hands with long, thick fingers. The smooth curve of his ass cheeks melted into strong legs, and his feet were wide and solid. Clean shaven, the lines of his body were clearly defined and as smooth as marble.
But what had my attention was his magnificent cock. Between his legs hung the biggest, thickest piece of meat I had ever laid eyes on. Easily twice as long as any I’d ever seen, it was as wide around as my wrist. The enormous head stretched almost to the knee, the full, round tip grazing his thigh. The surface of the shaft was entwined with veins that climbed its length like ivy over a column, and behind it his egg-shaped balls swung heavily like twin moons orbiting an obelisk.
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