Aphrodite's Choice
Chapter 26 - Pain And Pleasure (I)
Chapter 26 – Pain and Pleasure (I)
Tears ran trails down her face, crossing patches of saliva from the torrid kissing between them. Their sweat intermingled all over her body as well. Still, Hephaestus found his wife, the goddess of love, breath-takingly beautiful. After all, there was something about a person’s vulnerability while in the throes of pleasurable emotions.
He made loud slurping sounds, as if gorging during a banquet, as his lips and tongue ran complex patterns all over her womanhood. It was more than Aphrodite could bear. Her emotions quickly boiled as if it was water in a hot kettle. She gasped as it finally reached the tipping point and she squirted, her body fluids drenching her lover’s face. He stopped, blinking in surprise. She was literally twitching down there, every nerve ending overwhelmed with sensation. It was both a plea for Hephaestus to stop as she couldn’t take it anymore, as well as an invitation for him to keep going.
The thought of it brought his manhood, already stiff with excitement, fully erect as the blood and lust came rushing. Just the sight of it made Aphrodite wetter, if that was even possible. She yearned for him to enter, but her husband just stood there, a confusing mix of hesitation and arousal all too clear on his face. What is he waiting for, she thought. Did I do something to push him away?
In truth, the god of blacksmiths wanted nothing more than to enter his bride until all of his lust was spent. But he did not dare. Why? Hephaestus feared that at its fullness, his iron-like rod would be too much for even the goddess of love to handle. He was worried that it would hurt as much as please her. It was something that took a bit of the heat from his brain.
She called out to him again, weakly, her words punctuated by her sharp and labored breathing. She wanted more. She wanted him to continue until both of them could no longer move from exhaustion. One might think that as the goddess of love, it was her innate lustfulness driving her. True, Aphrodite by her very nature had near-insatiable appetites of the intimate kind. But more than that, she was driven by her yearning for the man himself: the one who swore to be with her for all eternity. Her first, as she was his first.
The goddess of love wanted to grab him by his hair, or wrap her legs around his torso and pull him toward her. Whatever he wanted to do to her. But for some reason, he was still sitting on their bed with that same expression of self-struggle as he seemed to ponder what was between her legs. Seriously? Does he even have to think about it?
“Don’t stop. Please,” she pleaded weakly.
Silence.
“I want you inside me now. Please”
Still, nothing but silence.
Aphrodite lashed out, her frustration driving her shin to the side of his torso. His solid, chiseled body felt like a rock to her leg and Hephaestus could have been made of it too, for all she knew, as he just sat there unmoving. As she was bracing to kick him again, her husband suddenly spoke out, “I don’t think you can take all of me. Look.”
To prove his point, he gently drove a finger inside of her. The goddess of love gasped in pleasure, her groom’s long finger able to brush against the highly-sensitive spots inside her womanhood as Hephaestus moved in and out. With no hint of discomfort in her face, the god of fire tentatively put in a second finger, making her stick out her tongue as she began to pant in relief. Despite the absence of what he feared would be pain in her part, her husband was still hesitant to come closer to her.
Aphrodite couldn’t stand it anymore. She decided to unveil what she thought would be her secret weapon, something her husband couldn’t resist. Slowly, as if to tantalize him, she began to spread her legs even more to give Hephaestus a clearer view of her dripping womanhood as it ached for something that could fill every inch of it inside.
“Stop playing and stick it in me like you want to hurt me,” she said, with a nod towards his fully-engorged rod.
Tears ran trails down her face, crossing patches of saliva from the torrid kissing between them. Their sweat intermingled all over her body as well. Still, Hephaestus found his wife, the goddess of love, breath-takingly beautiful. After all, there was something about a person’s vulnerability while in the throes of pleasurable emotions.
He made loud slurping sounds, as if gorging during a banquet, as his lips and tongue ran complex patterns all over her womanhood. It was more than Aphrodite could bear. Her emotions quickly boiled as if it was water in a hot kettle. She gasped as it finally reached the tipping point and she squirted, her body fluids drenching her lover’s face. He stopped, blinking in surprise. She was literally twitching down there, every nerve ending overwhelmed with sensation. It was both a plea for Hephaestus to stop as she couldn’t take it anymore, as well as an invitation for him to keep going.
The thought of it brought his manhood, already stiff with excitement, fully erect as the blood and lust came rushing. Just the sight of it made Aphrodite wetter, if that was even possible. She yearned for him to enter, but her husband just stood there, a confusing mix of hesitation and arousal all too clear on his face. What is he waiting for, she thought. Did I do something to push him away?
In truth, the god of blacksmiths wanted nothing more than to enter his bride until all of his lust was spent. But he did not dare. Why? Hephaestus feared that at its fullness, his iron-like rod would be too much for even the goddess of love to handle. He was worried that it would hurt as much as please her. It was something that took a bit of the heat from his brain.
She called out to him again, weakly, her words punctuated by her sharp and labored breathing. She wanted more. She wanted him to continue until both of them could no longer move from exhaustion. One might think that as the goddess of love, it was her innate lustfulness driving her. True, Aphrodite by her very nature had near-insatiable appetites of the intimate kind. But more than that, she was driven by her yearning for the man himself: the one who swore to be with her for all eternity. Her first, as she was his first.
The goddess of love wanted to grab him by his hair, or wrap her legs around his torso and pull him toward her. Whatever he wanted to do to her. But for some reason, he was still sitting on their bed with that same expression of self-struggle as he seemed to ponder what was between her legs. Seriously? Does he even have to think about it?
“Don’t stop. Please,” she pleaded weakly.
Silence.
“I want you inside me now. Please”
Still, nothing but silence.
Aphrodite lashed out, her frustration driving her shin to the side of his torso. His solid, chiseled body felt like a rock to her leg and Hephaestus could have been made of it too, for all she knew, as he just sat there unmoving. As she was bracing to kick him again, her husband suddenly spoke out, “I don’t think you can take all of me. Look.”
To prove his point, he gently drove a finger inside of her. The goddess of love gasped in pleasure, her groom’s long finger able to brush against the highly-sensitive spots inside her womanhood as Hephaestus moved in and out. With no hint of discomfort in her face, the god of fire tentatively put in a second finger, making her stick out her tongue as she began to pant in relief. Despite the absence of what he feared would be pain in her part, her husband was still hesitant to come closer to her.
Aphrodite couldn’t stand it anymore. She decided to unveil what she thought would be her secret weapon, something her husband couldn’t resist. Slowly, as if to tantalize him, she began to spread her legs even more to give Hephaestus a clearer view of her dripping womanhood as it ached for something that could fill every inch of it inside.
“Stop playing and stick it in me like you want to hurt me,” she said, with a nod towards his fully-engorged rod.