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She released her desperate hold on his shoulders and hung limp in his arms, impaled on the massive organ that speared her. When he lowered his great head to her breasts, she dug her fingers into his wet hair. His vast mouth encircled her breast, enveloped it, sucked it into the hot slick cavern, and his rough tongue sought her nipple and lapped at it endlessly as she hung in his grasp, split open on his cock.
It was bliss, the purest mindless bliss, to be held in his enormous arms, sucked and penetrated to the deepest parts of her. It seemed hours passed while she was suspended off the ground, in his grasp, as the organ inside her made slow and deep inroads until it had filled her as completely as her body could be filled without bursting at the seams.
Lia could do nothing but pant, and pant she did, as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over and through her. It would take nothing to make her come, almost nothing. What it did take, finally, was one thrust. One sharp thrust of his cock into her, and the gratified grunt of the god who coupled with her. Her body exploded with deep delicious spasms, and as she came, the god released his seed into her—thick, scalding waves of fluid that he poured into her so hard she could feel each fresh rush against her shuddering cervix.
After her climax, she lay still as a corpse in his mighty hands. Her breasts throbbed, swollen as they were from the intense suckling of his mouth, and her vagina pulsed around the shaft that still filled her.
But was he done with her?
No. He had only begun to school her on what it meant to give oneself to a god.
Still holding her, he went slowly to his knees and brought her back down to the floor. Delicious warm water encircled them as they copulated again. She was allowed movement now and she braced her feet on the floor to lift her hips in offering. His stony expression began to crumble as they made rough love. Sounds escaped his lips. Desire hooded his dark eyes and turned them glassy. The whole of her sex—her vulva and vagina, clitoris and cervix—all throbbed with one heartbeat around his organ. She couldn’t believe she could take so much into her. She rolled up a little and touched the tender flesh where he was joined to her and wrapped her hands again around the impossibly thick shaft. She measured him as he measured her. Even fully and completely embedded in her, she could take little more than half his length. She wanted every inch of it but knew he’d have to open her womb to fit it in, and he seemed content with what he could get of her.
As he rammed her with his cock, she gazed upon his body with adoration. The tendons in his arms moved and strained, as did the veins in his neck. His body was a mountain, his chest the cliff face, his shoulders like peaks and his head the snowcapped summit. Beautiful god...not less human in his goodness but more...more...taller and stronger, with a man’s eyes and a man’s hungers but a thousand times more virile than any mortal man.
“Lovely,” she whispered, and he laughed at her praise, rewarded it with a fresh burst of seed into her womb. She felt it, the thick hot fluid as it filled her and filled her. She sensed a quickening deep inside her, like lightning inside her belly. His godseed invaded her womb and staked its claim there.
“Yes,” he said into her ear. “Your son will be my son.”
So this was Athena’s blessing...her son would be a great hero with salt water in his veins. Athena had sent Poseidon to her in this temple, to claim the child already in her womb. And what would she say to that, to a god who would deign to bless the mortal seed of a mortal man and his mortal bride?
“Thank you, my lord.”
“You will tell your husband whose seed made your son great,” he said.
“I will.”
“And you will tell him you were more a wife to me than you were to him.”
His arrogant laugh filled the temple, and the mighty and terrible god began to thrust into her again.
He wrapped his arms around her back and hips and lifted her from the floor. Her legs were spread out over his massive thighs. Again and again he lifted and lowered her, spearing her on his iron-hard organ. She arched back and offered her breasts to him, which he roughly suckled, pulling the tender tips into his mouth and lavishing them with his tongue. Pleasure swept over her in wave after wave. She couldn’t stop her climaxes even if she’d wanted to. They were too powerful and there were too many of them.
She whimpered when he withdrew his cock from the wet cleft he’d been penetrating for what felt like hours. But she found he was not done with her, merely moving her for his own pleasure. He put her on her hands and knees and spread her thighs. With one smooth, long stroke, he speared her again. Her back bent and her head lifted like a supplicant in prayer. He ran his hands up her back and around her body to take her breasts in his hands. He held them in his palms as he pumped into her. The feeling went beyond pleasure into sheer obliterating sensation. She felt everything, and she felt it all at once—the humbling of being used, the fullness of the enormous organ in her as it pumped and spurted into the core of her. The god wrapped his arm around her and pressed his chest against her back. She was overtaken, he dwarfed her; her much smaller body disappeared beneath his. At last she released the cry that had been building inside her since her first sight of him looming naked and erect in the archway.
The god who impaled her did not scream. But like the ocean he ruled, he roared as he emptied himself into her for a final time.
She hung limp in his arms. He remained embedded in her, his nose to the back of her neck, breathing deep the scent of their coupling.
It was over. She knew it was over. She knew he would release her and she would be forced to stumble in her torn gown from the temple back to the palace, and she would return to her marriage bed still wet with his seed.
And for the rest of her life she would carry the memory of this insane encounter in the temple of Athena. Every time her husband touched her, she would remember that a god had once touched her there. When her husband gave her pleasure, it would pale in comparison to the pleasure given to her by this god. She would mourn the memory of this night until her death and, by this god, she would tell everyone who the true father of her son was—even if it brought shame upon her and made her own husband abandon her and their child.
No.
She would not allow it.
“Take me with you,” she said to Poseidon.
“Where I go you cannot come,” he said as he withdrew from her body. She was too empty without him inside her.
“Take me with you,” she said again. She turned over and faced him. She spread her legs for him, let him see the seed he’d spilled inside her. “Take me with you, as a bride or concubine or even a slave. It is no matter to me. But I cannot go back. How can I live the rest of my life seeing the world by candlelight now that you have shown me the sun? How can I spend the rest of my life drinking from a thimble when you have shown me the ocean? How can you send me back to the bed of a mortal man when you have taken me in a temple? No god would be so cruel.”
“It would be crueler to take you from all you’ve ever known.”
“I would rather have a god’s cruelty than a mortal’s love.”
Slowly the regal head nodded.
