Aphrodite's Choice
Chapter 35 - Impulsive Affair (II)
Chapter 35 – Impulsive Affair (II)
“It’s not like that. My servants are not like that. I trust them with my life”
“Really? Then why there?”
“Well, just because… Aphrodite deliberately stopped mid-sentence, then quickly whispered to Ares, “Because I had my first night there.”
The effect was immediate, and exactly what Aphrodite hoped for. The god of war’s eyes widened and then narrowed while his already flushed face got even redder. It was obvious he was thinking of her husband, and not in a kind way. Of course, that’s what Aphrodite wanted to do. She was calculating on Ares’ hatred for his stepbrother to make him ignore the risk of starting rumors. That, and his lust for her.
“Come on, prove to me that you’re a real man.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” growled Ares as he roughly pulled her towards his black horse a few feet away.
“Gently! I’m no farm girl!” protested Aphrodite as Ares began to take off her clothing and began biting her mounds. Not the gentle nibble of a lover, but the almost-violent actions of a ruffian. The god of war’s deft undressing of her while alternately biting her peaks and running his tongue all over her bosom revealed someone who had much experience.
Experience did not mean pleasure, however, as the god on top of her demonstrated. The god of love’s fair, white skin was quickly reddened with Ares’ teeth marks and nail scratches. A more practiced lover would have known how to tease her nerves with bites and pinches. Instead, this felt like Aphrodite went down to some swamp on earth where millions of insects would nibble at her body.
“Shut up. This is how real men do it,” he grunted as he spread one of her legs with his hand while shoving in a long finger with another. She gasped in pained surprise as she wasn’t wet yet. Who would be, with Ares’ clumsy attempts at foreplay?
He was oblivious, mistaking her expression for one of pleasure. He said, “Well, you’re a little tight. Just be patient.”
“Wait a minute. Ares. Please…”
He cut Aphrodite off as he found her cl*toris and began massaging it, making the goddess of love moan with appreciation. Ares chuckled with self-satisfaction as he let go of her leg and took hold of one of her erect peaks.
“See?” he said with a smirk.
That irritated Aphrodite. There was no doubt that Ares was good with his hands, in a rough kind of way. But all of that was lost the moment he opened his mouth. And the god of war loved to talk and talk without thinking about his words.
“You don’t have to hold back from making sounds. The more I hear it, the more I get excited.”
Aphrodite froze at those words. Am I bedding some mortal teenager, she thought in dismay. The goddess of love’s eyes told her that Ares, with his body shaped by a thousand and one wars, was in front of her. The same body which made many a woman, whether in Olympus or Earth, lust after him. The same one that made many in Olympus predict that he, not Hephaestus, would be her chosen mate.
“Lift up your hips,” he commanded her. Aphrodite just stared at his smooth, blemish-less face. Every detail of his was perfect, from head to toe. But for the goddess of love, there was no one in the universe uglier than the one in front of him now. She was beginning to realize that all of his talk about showing her what “a real man is like in bed” was just that: talk. In truth, Ares cared only about his own satisfaction, not hers. That’s why he kept urging her to moan as if in ecstasy, instead of actually making her do so.
Oh, this is terrible. A man who only thinks about himself!
But when Aphrodite thought about it, the nature of war was the same. In particular, Ares pursued destruction, slaughter, and plunder only for his own gain. In his countless wars, victory was the only important thing. She was sure he considered her as just another conquest, with no other purpose but to please him.
It was heard that kings who regard indiscriminate violence as a masculine quality primarily worshipped Ares. She had not seen them in person, but could infer that most of them imitated Ares’ arrogance and caused hardships on earth. As if the hearts of women, children, and other people did not exist.
Oh, I need to stop. The humans are fine, she thought in annoyance. Aphrodite had made up her mind.
“Spread your legs more,” grunted Ares as he was trying to penetrate her, cutting into her thoughts.
“No.”
Ares’ ears could not believe what they were hearing. No one had ever said that to him before, except to tease him and urge him to continue. No one else was a goddess, however, much less the goddess of love. Aphrodite was disgusted that this slobbering, self-centered excuse of a god thought of this as “love-making.”
How dare you taint the name of love, she screamed silently.
She put both hands on his chiseled chest, while she brought up her knees to her chest. With one motion, she pushed him off with both hands and feet. Ares’ chuckling, brought about by the misconception that Aphrodite was merely playing hard to get, ended abruptly.
“What? What’s going on?”
Aphrodite glared at Ares.
“Do not touch me again. Get out of here.”
“You begged me to come here and now you’re making me leave. Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Ares was partially right, but it was because she’d misunderstood him. If she knew that he was only capable of physical love, then she would not have brought him here.
“I did need you, but I don’t anymore. So, get out.”
“It’s not like that. My servants are not like that. I trust them with my life”
“Really? Then why there?”
“Well, just because… Aphrodite deliberately stopped mid-sentence, then quickly whispered to Ares, “Because I had my first night there.”
The effect was immediate, and exactly what Aphrodite hoped for. The god of war’s eyes widened and then narrowed while his already flushed face got even redder. It was obvious he was thinking of her husband, and not in a kind way. Of course, that’s what Aphrodite wanted to do. She was calculating on Ares’ hatred for his stepbrother to make him ignore the risk of starting rumors. That, and his lust for her.
“Come on, prove to me that you’re a real man.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” growled Ares as he roughly pulled her towards his black horse a few feet away.
“Gently! I’m no farm girl!” protested Aphrodite as Ares began to take off her clothing and began biting her mounds. Not the gentle nibble of a lover, but the almost-violent actions of a ruffian. The god of war’s deft undressing of her while alternately biting her peaks and running his tongue all over her bosom revealed someone who had much experience.
Experience did not mean pleasure, however, as the god on top of her demonstrated. The god of love’s fair, white skin was quickly reddened with Ares’ teeth marks and nail scratches. A more practiced lover would have known how to tease her nerves with bites and pinches. Instead, this felt like Aphrodite went down to some swamp on earth where millions of insects would nibble at her body.
“Shut up. This is how real men do it,” he grunted as he spread one of her legs with his hand while shoving in a long finger with another. She gasped in pained surprise as she wasn’t wet yet. Who would be, with Ares’ clumsy attempts at foreplay?
He was oblivious, mistaking her expression for one of pleasure. He said, “Well, you’re a little tight. Just be patient.”
“Wait a minute. Ares. Please…”
He cut Aphrodite off as he found her cl*toris and began massaging it, making the goddess of love moan with appreciation. Ares chuckled with self-satisfaction as he let go of her leg and took hold of one of her erect peaks.
“See?” he said with a smirk.
That irritated Aphrodite. There was no doubt that Ares was good with his hands, in a rough kind of way. But all of that was lost the moment he opened his mouth. And the god of war loved to talk and talk without thinking about his words.
“You don’t have to hold back from making sounds. The more I hear it, the more I get excited.”
Aphrodite froze at those words. Am I bedding some mortal teenager, she thought in dismay. The goddess of love’s eyes told her that Ares, with his body shaped by a thousand and one wars, was in front of her. The same body which made many a woman, whether in Olympus or Earth, lust after him. The same one that made many in Olympus predict that he, not Hephaestus, would be her chosen mate.
“Lift up your hips,” he commanded her. Aphrodite just stared at his smooth, blemish-less face. Every detail of his was perfect, from head to toe. But for the goddess of love, there was no one in the universe uglier than the one in front of him now. She was beginning to realize that all of his talk about showing her what “a real man is like in bed” was just that: talk. In truth, Ares cared only about his own satisfaction, not hers. That’s why he kept urging her to moan as if in ecstasy, instead of actually making her do so.
Oh, this is terrible. A man who only thinks about himself!
But when Aphrodite thought about it, the nature of war was the same. In particular, Ares pursued destruction, slaughter, and plunder only for his own gain. In his countless wars, victory was the only important thing. She was sure he considered her as just another conquest, with no other purpose but to please him.
It was heard that kings who regard indiscriminate violence as a masculine quality primarily worshipped Ares. She had not seen them in person, but could infer that most of them imitated Ares’ arrogance and caused hardships on earth. As if the hearts of women, children, and other people did not exist.
Oh, I need to stop. The humans are fine, she thought in annoyance. Aphrodite had made up her mind.
“Spread your legs more,” grunted Ares as he was trying to penetrate her, cutting into her thoughts.
“No.”
Ares’ ears could not believe what they were hearing. No one had ever said that to him before, except to tease him and urge him to continue. No one else was a goddess, however, much less the goddess of love. Aphrodite was disgusted that this slobbering, self-centered excuse of a god thought of this as “love-making.”
How dare you taint the name of love, she screamed silently.
She put both hands on his chiseled chest, while she brought up her knees to her chest. With one motion, she pushed him off with both hands and feet. Ares’ chuckling, brought about by the misconception that Aphrodite was merely playing hard to get, ended abruptly.
“What? What’s going on?”
Aphrodite glared at Ares.
“Do not touch me again. Get out of here.”
“You begged me to come here and now you’re making me leave. Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Ares was partially right, but it was because she’d misunderstood him. If she knew that he was only capable of physical love, then she would not have brought him here.
“I did need you, but I don’t anymore. So, get out.”