Dionysis - Sex Stories

Dionysis

... carnality. There are maenads everywhere, doing terrible things to and with mortal men, nymphs and each other. Orpheus is right in the centre of it all fucking a fat maenad right in her sopping cunt. I pause to admire his sweaty little buttocks. I don’t generally go in for boys, but I am Greek after all. I’ve buggered him more than once and frigged Ariadne silly while I was doing it. She never gets tired of watching him cry, and who am I to deny my one true love?

The maenad he’s busy pumping full of seed is a choice morsel too. More than a morsel, actually – a decent meal. Seeing her big tits flap about as Orpheus ruts her reminds me of Aphrodite. The goddess of love keeps a roster of suitors – gods and mortals alike - pining after her and fighting each other, but she and I have an understanding. While Hephaestus and Ares are out trying to prove themselves worthy of her, I’m in the back of her temple watching the ripples of her chubby buttocks as I fuck her from behind. She loves to choke on a big cock too. I hold her slut head down against my pubis until she’s crying and gagging with panic. It’s a good job she likes it so much, because it’s exactly what she deserves. Hephaestus is sweet but he’s stupid. He doesn’t understand that she keeps going back to Ares because he beats the shit out of her, not in spite of it.

Orpheus finishes his business with a cry that is a pure, sonorous F-sharp and lies in a fleshy heap with his partner, the breath in their chests breath ...

... gently lifting and lowering him. A nymph hands me a glass of retsina: a crisp white wine flavoured with pine. Across the clearing the maenads have staked a man to the ground through his hands and ankles and are taking turns riding his cock. Immediately to my left a mortal girl is eating her first cunt. A little way to my right two satyrs are playing a complicated game involving dice, drinking and visciously whipping a nymph with a braided leather cord. Everything’s going well here. I head back towards my pavilion.

I have a wonderfully beautiful little brown girl in my sleeping compartment whom I picked up during my travels in India. I’ve been spoiling her with sweetmeats and thoughtful little gifts and she’s under the impression I’m quite the gentleman. She doesn’t know it, but I have her father in a cage too. I’ve been driving him mad with torture and drugs for as long as I’ve been cultivating her devotion. At some point when I’m bored of her I’ll spring a bit of surprise incest on her, but for now I’m looking for an early night and she’ll be lovely to curl up with. Moving aside the curtain to my quarters I see that Ariadne’s already had the same idea. They’re sleeping like spoons, brown flesh against alabaster, naked in the cool summer air. Careful not to wake them, I lie behind Ariadne so that she’s sandwiched between myself and the Indian girl. They murmur gently as I tenderly lay my are across them.

Life is good. Perhaps that’s not what you wanted to hear at the end of ...