Aphrodite's Blessing

[Vandar_savage]

This is a 6-part unfinished story that was on the now-defunct Br@wn@ stories site.  I had given up hope of recovering this story, which is one of my all time favorites by a user with the handle of dr_muscles.  But thanks to the awesome wayback machine and some persistent digging I finally managed to recover them.  I don't think the original author is still active but if he is I'd love for him to continue the series.  I'm going to post them here and a few other places like Diana's site to make sure they don't get lost in the future.  Anyway enough rambling, here it is.  Enjoy.

Aphrodite's Blessing Chapter 1: Blessing
Submitted by dr_muscles on August 5, 2008 - 12:36pm
The pool area was closed and I was making one final walk through looking for lost items and misplaced towels. At night the pool area was particularly lovely. After I shut off the overhead lights, the only illumination was the underwater lights, which cast blue flickering reflections over the entire room. It made it look unworldly, and even the hundreth time I stared back at it, a little creepy.

I swung my flashlight, labeled "property of the fitness center" in big black letters, across the edge of the pool one last time. I was pulling the door closed when my beam illuminated a figure.

"Hello?" My quivering voice echoed in the cavernous room. She - it was most definitely a she - was standing on the far side of the pool with her back to me. If she heard me, she gave no indication.

"Ma'am, the pool's closed," I tried to gather the feeble authority being a staff member of the college fitness center entitled me to and channel it in my voice. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She gave no indication that she heard me. Despite the alarm her unexpected appearance had prompted I began to get annoyed. "Please ma'am, don't make me call campus security."

I heard laughter. The woman still didn't move, and I wasn't sure she was even the source. It seemed to eminate from all around me. I couldn't even tell if it was one person or a chorus of hidden onlookers. I swirled, but saw no one except the immobile women.

I tried a different tack. "Are you alright, do you need help?" I took a couple of steps closer. The woman was oddly dressed - to say the least. She had a swimsuit - a two piece bikini silver in color - and over that a sheer skirt and on her head a wide brimmed hat. She looked like a model in an advertisment standing on the beach - I could almost see the big festive letters: "Visit Brazil."

I edge closer, keeping the flashlight in front of me. Another thought entered my mind. It could be Myrna, my fellow graveyard shift employee - playing a practical joke. It didn't seem like something Myrna would do, but from behind I couldn't tell. It certainly didn't look like Myrna. Not that Myrna was ugly, mind you, I often thought that if she took off her glasses and let down her hair out of the bun she always wore it in, she would look quite good. No Myrna, wasn't ugly, but the woman in front of me was undoubtedly a looker.

Maybe a friend of Myrna? A friend like Cynthia, Myrna's blonde roommate, the resident campus beauty. Also something of a bitch, one who might try to scare me with a practical joke such as this.

"Is that you Cynthia?" I asked, trying not to let my tone reflect how unnerving I found the whole situation.

"No." The word seemed to circle me like a warm breeze. I could feel it tingle the interior of my brain.

"I am Aphrodite, and you mortal, are truly blessed."

If it wasn't for the fact that the words seemed to be ringing around inside my skull rather than coming in from the outside, like normal everyday speech, I would have stuck with my practical joke theory. As it was I wasn't quiet ready to let it go.

"How are you doing that? Are you a friend of Myrna? Cynthia?" I was struggling to find solid ground.

The voice in my head ignored me. "As I have been ordered by Zeus, I grant you the 'recompense of Paris.' May it be said, that for this millenia, my debt is paid."

The words didn't mean anything to me. My flashlight failed and so did the underwater lights, and for an instance the gym was plunged into darkness. I groped around in front of me, but dared not move for fear that I might slip on the slick tile.

There was a rushing wind - a rushing wind that really shouldn't have existed - we were enclosed in a gym that doubled as a fallout shelter - and the same strange chorus of laughter as before.

My flashlight flickered to life first, and the area where the woman had been was empty. I swung it around but as far as I could tell with the tiny circle of illumination the flashlight provided, I was alone.

I heard a buzz, and the underwater lights hummed back to life, confirming my earlier suspicions - I was most definitely alone. I couldn't get out of there quickly enough.

I didn't slow down my pace until I pulled into sight of the security desk. I could see a lamp, and the flickering glow of a the tiny tv that had been provided to stave off the inevitable boredom of looking after a mostly closed gym. Myrna gasped and looked up at me as I unlocked the door that led behind the desk.

"Oh, Eric, it's you," she was regarding me with wide eyes, and her gaze lingered on my face longer than usual. I wondered if my fright was that noticable.

"I just came to see how you were doing..." I started, but trailed off, her gaze hadn't left my face, and it was beginning to make me uncomfortable. "Did you notice a power outage just a few minutes ago...?" or for that matter a strange woman walk past? I completed in my head.

Myrna continued to look at me, seemingly dazed and slowly shook her head.

"No, its been all quiet here," she said, her eyes still not leaving my face. I never noticed that those brown eyes of her were actually quite attractive.

"Oh... OK, well, I'll just go back to my desk." I really didn't feel like it, butterfly's still fluttered in my stomach, but it was my job, and Myrna and I had just exchanged more words tonight than we had for the previous two weeks combined.

She nodded, and I took a step back, and prepared to open the door that led back to the front of the desk.

"You could stay here a while..." In the low light, it was hard to tell, but it looked like she was blushing, "...you know nobody is going to use the gym now, it's almost 1am." She seemed to be talking faster than normal.

"OK," I sat down in the same empty seat next to her. She was still looking at me, but now there was a ghost of a smile on her lips - a nervous smile. "What are we watching..."

"Umm..." she finally looked away from me to concentrate on the grainy picture of the TV, "...I have no idea. Looks like a dubbed movie."

Indeed it did. Maybe a kung-fu movie or maybe one of those Indian dance features - it was really hard to tell. I saw out of the corner of my eyes that Myrna was looking at me again, with the same nervous smile. A thought crept into my brain - maybe it had been a practical joke - and Myrna was enjoying watching me quietly freak out? Well in that case I wouldn't give her the satisfaction, I resolved. I crossed my arms across my chest and stubbornly watched as two men dressed in ridiculous robes circled each other in the midst of a grove of trees. I tried to patently ignore the strange look that seemed to bore into the side of my head.

It wasn't any use, I looked up. Myrna had taken off her glasses, when I met her gaze she looked away, almost maiden like. Was she embarresed? Maybe she felt silly for the little stunt earlier at the pool. Served her right, I thought, trying to scare the wits out of me like that.

"Umm..." Myrna didn't quite meet my gaze again, "would you mind, I'm feeling kind of stressed tonight, would you mind, I don't know, rubbing my shoulders?" She was blushing again.

Her behavior had now delved into the surreal. Myrna and I barely talked, except as work required, and even then it was the barest exchanges of information possible. My new theory: "toxic gas leak, making everyone hallucinate."

"Yeah sure," I said, stood and positioned myself in behind her chair. I pushed my fingers into the soft flesh of her shoulders and started to knead the muscles underneath. They were indeed tense.

Myrna rested her head against my hand as I worked, then turned and brushed her lips against it, gently but with purpose. She kissed my knuckle. That brought my massage to a sudden stop.

"Myrna...?" I couldn't decide how to end the question. She didn't look up, but instead timidly kissed my hand again. She kissed it again, and pointedly refused to look up at me.

She broke it off suddenly, tore her lips away and stood up facing away from me toward the front of the desk. She reached up and pulled the security grill - a solid sheet of interlocking wooden slats down until it clicked closed, leaving us enclosed.

"Myrna...?" I tried again, but was cut off.

"Eric, do you think I'm pretty?" I didn't know what to say, before I could catch up to the rapidly evolving situation unfolding in front of me, she brusquely pulled her shirt up and over her head. She was wearing a plain white bra, plain and functional, but only for a second. That slid off her shoulders with a deft touch from her hands.

She didn't seem to be willing to look up at me. Her exposed breasts were milky white. She seemed to be nervous, taking short shallow breaths. It took me a second to realize she was waiting for a response.

I just nodded. She looked unbelievable relieved her shoulders releasing the tension that they had carried across them. She smiled up at me, as if I couldn't have possibly made her happier.

They say guys don't notice the little things. I guess that's true. I had no idea that Myrna had a crush on me, or how far she would go to show me. As far as I knew Myrna never thought about me, even when I had been right in front of her eyes, shows you what I know.

I wasn't ready for her, the momentum put me back into the roller seat, and that in turned rolled backward to the far wall. She kissed me on the lips hungrily ten times, twenty times, I lost count. Her fingers were struggling with the buttons of my shirt, and then with the buttons of my pants - and her own. I didn't have time to kick the pants off my ankles before she roughly pulled me down, down onto the hard and cool concrete floor. She was animilistic, and the blood boiling in my ears made it impossible for to hold onto to any higher thoughts either. I just pumped and pumed, pressing into her moist opening. In the distance I heard fevered moaning and cries of pleasure, but that was far away, far beyond the only sound I could hear - the booming beat of my heart and the wild pouring of blood through my veins.

***

I didn't want to wake up. I turned and pulled the sheets over my head to block out the sun, linger in blissful dreams just a few seconds more. I sighed as the image of Myrna's small breasts hanging out for my pleasure slowly receded into memory. I desperately tried to remember how in my dream she had been crying my name, moaning and thrashing as I had pumped my rod inside her. Encroaching wakefullness could not be avoided however. I sighed and rolled over, with every intention of getting up out of bed. Instead, I felt the cold cement of dormitory walls.

That wasn't right. In my sleepiness I must have rolled the wrong way - toward the wall instead of toward the center of my room. I tried again, but again encountered an unexpected obstacle. My flesh met soft warm flesh - flesh that sighed contentedly and wrapped long arms around my chest.

"You're awake," Myrna purred not quiet opening her eyes, but instead burying her tired face into my chest as she pulled me toward her. "That was amazing," she whispered, the sound mostly lost against my ribcage.

She shifted and groaned. "Although, you did leave me a little sore. Next time we need to find a proper bed, instead of the gym floor."

Her breath against me began to come in more regular intervals, until I presumed she had fallen back asleep. I could tell, with her body pressed against me, that the sheets were the only thing we both wore. I looked around trying not to wake Myrna. It was a dorm room - in the same building as mine - but definitely not mine. Too organized for one thing, with more plants, and even a goldfish, and while I had a room alone, there was clearly a second person living in this one. While one half of the room was neatly if sternly arranged, the other half was pink. Pink bedspread, pink pictures taped to the white wall, even a pink computer. It was Myrna and Cynthia's room I realized. From the lack of noise - and lack of concern on Myrna's untroubled face - I assumed we were alone.

I relished the feeling of a warm and naked Myrna snuggled against me, but in doing so encountered two growing problems. One was the blood being diverted to my loins, the other an increasing pressure on my bladder.

"Myrna..." I whispered. She roused only enough to resettle her face against my shoulder.

"Myrna..." I tried a little louder.

"Eric..." She whispered back, almost wonderously, her eyes fluttered open, "I was afraid it had all been a dream."

"I guess not."

"Lucky us," Myrna smiled.

"Myrna," she sighed at the sound of her name, "Myrna, I need to go to the bathroom."

"Oh," Myrna pouted, disappointed about having to let me go, "fine..." She untangled herself from me and sat up on the edge of the bed, taking the cover with her. She pointed to the door. "Through there..."

I hesitated only enough to take in the sight of Myrna covered only by a sheet before I made my way to the bathroom.

I was washing my hands and trying to put together my scrambled memories. A strange woman. The recompense of Paris? Myrna. Myrna. There was no hiding my bodies reaction to the thoughts of her as I stood naked in the bathroom.

There was a knock on the door. I let it open a crack so I could peer through and not reveal my naked state to whoever was there. I felt a sigh of relief, it was Myrna, naked and leaning against the door frame.

"Hey there," she smiled.

"Hey," I said, unexperienced at morning after conversation.

"I was..." she flipped her unruly hair out of her face, and then her hand lingered down to her soft white exposed breast. "...I was thinking about taking a shower," she bit her lip. "You want to help?"

Apparently "help" was a euphimism for holding one of her legs while she hugged my head, and I rammed into her again and again with her back to the porcelain tile. My lust had taken over me again, and when I finally peaked, it was an avalanche. I let go of her and she slid down the slick tile into a curled up mass at my feet, her breathing labored and ragged.

She reached up my body. The steaming water ran in rivulets down my trembling frame.

"You are one talented guy," Myrna said exhausted, she spread out her legs so she was sitting at the corner of the tub. She gently touched her shaggy bush. She winced.

"I'm going to be sore in the morning," she looked up at me, her eyes filled with contentment and awe. Her shower slicked dark hair clung to her face and her small breasts jiggled with each shiver that passed through her body. She offered up her hand. I was prepared to pull her up, but instead she pulled me down. She wrapped her arms around me, and under the showerhead's downpour, it took me a moment to realize that she was crying, the gentle tremors racking her bodies were sobs.

I lifted her head out of my shoulder where she had buried it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

Myrna laughed and blinked away tears. "No, it's not... I'm just being silly, like a thirteen year old girl or something," she untangled one of her arms and wiped at her face. It was impossible with the water falling on us to tell what was tears, but she didn't seem content until she had rubbed at her eyes a few more times.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She smiled, but her eyes were red from crying. "Nothing's wrong, everythings great, wonderful... you... I never thought I could feel like this about someone, or feel like that," she blushed, "with someone. It was beyond incredible. I'm just... it's hard to explain."

She paused and the downbeat of the shower against the clear plastic doors and tiles was the only sound we heard, curled up together in the corner.

She finally continued. "I'm just... You were there the whole time, and I just didn't see you. I could've walked away, and never known... never known..." she reached out and touched my face, as if to confirm I was real, "...you."

She looked at me, brown eyes rimmed with red. "I'm just afraid, I'm going to wake up, or I'm going to loose you somehow."

I hugged her tight to me, and she started crying again. I didn't understand, but I seemed to be doing the right thing because soon she started to whisper.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you..." over and over, a quiet fervent chant. Finally at the end:

"I love you."

I froze. It had been so quiet I wasn't sure I had actually heard it, and I dared not say anything.

***

The summer was divided into two semesters and a dreary mid summer break. Most employees weren't even on campus during the break, except lowly undergraduates tasked with watching over the nearly deserted fitness center.

Technically we were supposed to man two separate desks, but instead I locked the doors to mine and hung out with Myrna. We would sit together, talk, watch paid programming and of course, Myrna would get up, slide the shutter over the desk closed and then we would make love until Myrna was slick with sweat and trembling.

"OH GOD!" She flopped backward onto the floor, and held up six fingers. We were going for the record of seven.

I was still hard, and we were both struggling for breath. Myrna's wild undergrowth of pubic hair was slick and glistening.

"I don't think..." she looked up at me, where I was sitting, "...I just don't know if I can... go again." She brushed her sweat slicked hair back over her shoulder. "It's not natural, you know, I've looked it up. Two orgasms is supposed to be an amazing experience, three, once in a lifetime."

My eyebrows knit together. "You always have three, at least."

"I know," she edged forward again her eyes watching me, hungry and wary. "I don't know if I'm the freak or you are."

"You," I said with a teasing grin.

"Maybe..." she lowered herself back onto me and began to gentle pump up and down.

I wasn't a virgin before I met Myrna. It was a late night freshman year, and I had got drunk at a party and hooked up with a girl. I still remembered it vividly, but it was so different with Myrna. With Myrna, it felt so easy, so natural, so intuistic. I just knew that if I moved my hips like this...

"OHHH!" Myrna yelped in surprise.

...or if I touched her just like this...

"Ahh! AHH!" Myrna tried to squirm away from my touch.

...it would drive her wild. It hadn't even taken a minute and I could feel her tense, her rhythym working to a fevered pitch. She was past the point of no return. She bucked up and down, and content with the record I relaxed and let her final orgasm be my release. I spilled into her and that just heightened everything for her.

"OH Eric!" She yelled, and then collapsed into me, a ragdoll. Her head was limp on my shoulder, but I could feel her heartbeat racing. It seemed like if it didn't slow down she might suffer irreversible damage. I silently swore that from now on six would be our limit.

She was several minutes before she stirred again. She pulled her head back and looked at me blearily.

"Myrna, your eye!"

She didn't react, but on one eye was a ominous blood red spot, highlighted against the milky white. She blinked and slowly her eyes regained a more lucid look, and not the earlier glassy stare. She kissed me on the forehead. If she heard my concern, she didn't react, she just fell asleep in my arms.

I was getting fairly adept at dressing her, with only limited help. I got her decent and reopened the desk.

***

It wasn't all like that, we did normal things too, watch movies, talk, go on walks across campus. I learned she was an English major, youngest of three children, with two old brothers. We would sit on her bed and talk for hours.

She was pretty, if not perfect. Slightly unruly black hair, a nose that was maybe a little too big, and arms and legs that bordered on being too thin. She sat leaning against the head of the bed painting her toenails, wearing a tanktop and short black shorts. The red dot on her eye had grown, but was just now beginning to shrink. The doctor had told her it was a broken capilary, and it was nothing to be worried about, she should just cut down on the vigirous activity. She had blushed, and looked adorable.

Of course, neither of us wanted to cut down on the vigirous activity, although I never again pushed Myrna as far as that night. I was learning to generate in Myrna different types of orgasms, little ones she described as "warm glowing heat from the crown of her head to her toes," to big over the top ones, the kind that left her heart racing and her on the verge of unconciouness.

Myrna put a last touch on her now purple big toe, and held it up for my inspection.

"How does it look?" She wiggled her toes.

"Good."

"Only good?"

I looked at her, she was wearing a mischevious grin. "Only good?" She asked again.

"OK, how about incredibly sexy."

"Better," she conceded raising her foot so she could see it, sprawled out as she was across her bed. It was late afternoon, and it was the last day of summer break. Our habit of spending all day in Myrna's room would be interrupted by our increased responsibilities and the return of Cynthia, Myrna's roommate.

We could still hang out in my room, I didn't have a roommate, but with the last day of the mip summer break slipping away I could sense the bitter taste of an ending approaching. Myrna seemed to hear my thoughts.

"No matter what else happens, Eric, this has been the best two weeks of my life." She said it with not a hint of irony on her face. The flat honesty of the statement made me uncomfortable and reminded me of her earlier proclimation of love for me, something neither of us had brought up since.

"I..." She put a finger over my lip and I stopped speaking.

"I'm sorry, if this makes me seem crazy, or like some love sick teenager, but I love you Eric, and being with you these two weeks has been amazing."

I was glad she had urged me to silence, because I couldn't respond to that.

[Vandar_savage]

Aphrodite's Blessing Chapter 2: Curse
Submitted by dr_muscles on August 5, 2008 - 12:39pm
We were talking, lazy Monday afternoon talk. I was teasing her about her bony elbows and knees - "Jill Skeleton" I called her, she pouted and tried not to react to when my expert touch made her gasp with pleasure.

The keys rattling in the dorm door caught us up short. We had gotten used to having the whole of campus to ourselves.

"Hey Myrna... oh hi!" Cynthia, Myrna's roommate was carrying in a box. She smiled and looked right at me.

"Hi, I'm Cynthia," she looked for the nearest flat surface and then dropped the box on it, and offered me her hand.

"Eric," I said, Cynthia smiled in delight, "I'm Myrna's..." I trailed off, all this time, Myrna and I hadn't actually discussed the delicate matter of what exactly we were.

"...boyfriend," Myrna interjected smoothly. "He's my boyfriend."

"Oh," Cynthia's eyes flicked back and forth between us, growing slightly wide. "Nice to meet you Eric."

"Same," I said, still flustered. Cynthia, I should mention, is gorgeous. Bikini model gorgeous. Generous breasts, that are probably the only ounce of fat on her body. She was long on lean, with shapely legs and a long bronze neck, exotic eyes, and almost shimmering blonde hair.

Cynthia turned her attention back to Myrna.

"Don't you usually have to be at work by now?" Cynthia looked curiously at the digital clock by her bed.

"Not during the..." Myrna's eye widened, "Oh! I'd forgotten, I have a different schedule during the semester!" She looked around for flip-flops and ran to the door.

"Eric!" She caught me as she was about out the door. She kissed me, quickly, and then threw a glance at Cynthia before she ran down the hall, the distinct sound of flip-flops against bare feet receding into the distance.

I turned and realized I was suddenly alone with Cynthia. "Um... nice to meet you, Cynthia, I guess I'll be going..."

She walked, her hips swaying with every step and put a hand over my shoulder pushing the door closed.

"You could stay a while, you know," she batted those long dark eyelashes, "if you are her boyfriend, I'd at least like to get to know you."

"OK," I could feel my back pressed up against the door.

She drew closer and I could feel the large weight of her breasts press against my chest. Those large orbs threatened to spill over the top of her tight tanktop.

"Myrna..." I stammered.

"...is a girl. You deserve a woman," she pulled away and deftly pulled down her shirt. Those magnificent breasts popped free, hanging in the air as if defying gravity.

"You can touch them, if you want, I won't bite," her teeth coyly pressed into her ruby lips, "...unless you would like that."

My hands moved of their own accord, the heft and size of her breasts were prodigious, easily filling my hands. She moaned at my touch. I experimentally flicked a finger over her nipple. She shivered.

"Eric, that's good," she purred, "I'm usually not that sensitive."

"My turn," she wispered, and slid down my body onto her knees. She pulled me forward away from the door and around her until I was seated on her bed. She pulled away my pants, and my waiting member sprung to life.

"Yum," was Cynthia's only response.

She swallowed me. I could feel the tip over my now over stimulated cock rub against the back of her throat. I'd never felt anything so overpoweringly erotic.

I knew if I said, "That's it. Drink it all," Cynthia would go wild. I said it. She did.

I knew if I pulled her hair, and whispered, "You don't deserve this," Cynthia would go wet with desire, eagerly awaiting my seed. I did. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

I came.

To me the door seemed to open in slow motion. Myrna burst in her face filled with a look of bemusement.

"Can you believe it, I forgot my..." She froze.

I tried to protest, to stand up, but to no avail. Cynthia had me locked in place, as I orgasmed down into her throat.

Myrna's face turned unreadable, and she grabbed something off her desk and turned to go. I pushed Cynthia roughly away, but she just smiled up at me. I pulled up my pants and rushed after Myrna as she rushed out the door.

Cynthia didn't even bother to cover up her breasts, although thankfully no one else was in the hallway. "Nice to meet you, Eric!" She yelled.

Myrna was walking quickly, and I had to run to catch up with her. I grabbed her shoulder, I expected her to walk away, but instead she froze, and I nearly bowled her over.

I came around so I was facing her. She didn't look mad, just sad. "Cynthia..." she said her voice seemingly emotionless.

"I'm... sorry," it seemed inadequate.

"I forgive you," she said. "Even before you asked." She didn't look up at me, just shook her head unbelievingly. She pushed me suddenly roughly and I realized I was being pushed into one of the communal dorm bathrooms.

I began to protest, but it was empty, most students weren't on campus during the summer and most people in this dorm had private bathrooms. She pushed me back through two pairs of curtains into a cramped shower stall.

She knelt down, it wasn't hard for her to get my pants off, my fly was open and my belt was hanging loose. With trembling hands she undid the sole button that held them closed, she pulled them down.

I watched wordlessly as she too took my member and gently massaged it until it grew hard again. She opened her mouth.

A more objective part of my brain told me she wasn't as pretty as Cynthia, nor as skilled. I tried to shut the part of my brain down. While Myrna lacked Cynthia's obvious skill, she was trying, and it felt good.

I knew if I said, "That feels incredible," and gripped her shoulder with urgency, she would love it. I did.

I let himself go as I felt Myrna amateurish attempts gain confidence. She began to pump her head back and forth in an increased rythym, hoping to draw forth the same prize Cynthia had only moments before. Amazingly I was able to provide.

She gagged as the semen clogged her throat, she tried to swallow most of it, but was unprepared for the strange sensation. Instead it dribbled down her chin, splashed onto her white shirt.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. It was surreal, she found me and Cynthia and she was apologizing. "Next time, next time, it'll be better."

***

Myrna believed practice made perfect, and practice she did. With Cynthia back we spent more and more time in my room, and if Myrna spent the night I would awaken to her working to improve her technique on my morning wood.

Myrna had changed after she caught me with Cynthia, which was to be expected, but the changes I would have never have guessed. Her clothes became more revealing, she spent extra hours, grooming, putting on makeup, tending to her hair. It was if she had to prove to me she was good enough.

It began to eat at me. I had cheated on her, she seemed to be trying to make it up to me.

Her pant waistlines grew lower, her shirts higher, and she started to wear thongs, whose straps were just barely visible on the edge of her hips.

Cynthia acted unabashedly. She followed us everywhere, ate lunch with us, invited herself on walks with us. The tension was almost unbearable, except Myrna strangely didn't seem jealous. For Cynthia, it seemed I was a prize to be won, and Myrna seemed to accept that. Cynthia, far from resigned by Myrna's stubborness relished the competition. After the first week it almost settled in to a routine. A tense, potentially explosive routine, but a routine none the less.

As the campus filled back up, I began to get looks. The looks from the other boys I understood. Cynthia, probably one of the hottest girls in school doted on me, and I could feel eyeballs click to watch us as we passed. Not all those eyes followed Cynthia though. Myrna was now attracting her own pairs of eyes.

For about a week, everytime I saw her, Myrna's hairstyle was different. She had now settled on a sleek, short, gelled looked - a little punk, a little goth, and very chic. Her new style was getting attention.

Then those eyes would settle on me, and wonder: who is this guy?

From the girls I got different looks - but those I tried to ignore.

I sat down first, pushing my lunch tray to the back corner of the booth. Myrna was quick to follow me, to push herself to get the seat beside me. Cynthia pouted and settled for the seat across from me.

I tried not to get involved. I felt in over my head.

"You know," Cynthia said as she sat down. "I've got the bigger boobs." I tried to ignore her, but Myrna didn't.

"Maybe, but I think most guys would rather not spend the rest of their lives with a physical therapy major. Occasionaly they would have to talk to you," Myrna said it with a smile. "Brains over beauty."

I had, sadly, gotten used to these back and forths and dared not interrupt.

"That's why they have the highly rated Ms. America 'Quiz Bowl' every year," Cynthia grinned as she put a piece of lettuce into her mouth.

It was Myrna's turn to pout. I ate in silence, still fearing that despite the strange psuedo truce the two woman could turn to physical violence. Beside me Myrna straightened up suddenly.

"Hey!" Myrna complained, "that was the wrong leg."

Cynthia, looked thoughtful, "It did feel a little to smooth, have you been using my Nair?"

I felt a foot touch my leg from across the table.

"Yes," Myrna said defiantly, then looked sheepish, "I hope that's OK."

"Oh, definitely, I love that stuff," Cynthia's voice turned quiet, "though don't use it," she glanced down, "down there."

Myrna blushed.

"I did once," Cynthia winced, "let me tell you, only wax for me from now on." She smiled at me. "I'll have to show you sometimes."

I looked at Myrna, expecting another quip. Instead she just asked, "Where do you get that done?"

Cynthia grinned, "A little salon in the strip mall just off campus, right next to the Laundrymat. We'll have to go together sometimes, it's scary enough that I don't like facing it by myself."

Myrna nodded. "Does it hurt?" She looked concerned.

Cynthia gave her a look. "Of course it does. Price of beauty."

Myrna nodded again. The sudden veering between girlfriends and rivals was always head spinning.

"So I'm going to go see the new Batman movie tonight, wanna come?" Cynthia asked grinning again.

"Actually," I glanced at Myrna, "I've already got plans to see it."

"Oh come on," Myrna sighed, "of course she knows you were planning on seeing it with me." Myrna grimaced. "Her network of spies is everywhere."

"Oh, were you planning to go tonight?" Cynthia asked with mock innocence.

"Oh come off it, Cynthia," Myrna looked resigned, "as normal, you're invited."

"Oh great, so you'll both be coming then?" Cynthia, clapped in glee.

Myrna rolled my eyes. Cynthia's foot was creeping up my leg. Myrna seemed to sense it, and protectively put a hand on my crotch, gently massaging me.

Cynthia's foot encountered Myrna's hand with disappointment.

"Oh well, take care of him for me," she sighed. "I've got to go to class."

Myrna waved goodbye. "Try not to sleep with too many boys on the way there."

Cynthia just laughed and walked away her walk leaving her shapely butt swaying with every step.

"Are you OK?" I asked Myrna. She turned to face me no longer watching Cynthia.

"Yeah, of course," Myrna answered, a sudden expression of concern on her face, "why?"

"Just the whole Cynthia thing?" I asked dubiously, not for the first time.

Myrna just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, of course, she's my friend after all, we did arrange to be roommates. I don't mind watching the movie with her."

"That's not what I meant," I protested.

Myrna looked at me with a soft smile. She looked so different now, her new edgier look, the black eyeliner, razor cut hair, but still somehow the same.

"Don't worry about it," she just shrugged.

"How can you say that?" I asked.

"You are worth fighting for," she said it, the same way she managed to say the most improbable things, flatly and unironicly.

"Oh, I haven't shown you yet, have I?" Myrna said suddenly.

"Shown me what?"

"Cynthia said you wouldn't notice," she pushed back her black gelled spikey hair. Her ear had three new studs poking into the upper part of her ear.

"When did you get that done?" I said, admiring the new addition to Myrna's new look.

"Cynthia took me last night," Myrna said, gently testing the top of the ear with her finger.

"Of course."

"I made the mistake of asking her how she knew so much about the best places to get pierced," Myrna shuttered. "The things some people will do to their bodies. So what do you think?"

"They're cute."

"I was hoping you'd like them," Myrna stuck out her tounge, "I was thinking about getting my tongue done, too." She frowned. "I just didn't want it to interfere with our..." she blushed.

So did I.

"...Anyway, I just saw you talking to the girl who worked the front desk of the library, how you liked her piercings, so tell me, what should I get next, tongue or nose."

"You look great as it is," I said. And it was true, her new look had brought her had brought her out of obscurity, apparently between the two of them, Cynthia and Myrna were turning down more than their share of would be suitors.

"No," Myrna shook her head, "my mind's made up. Nose it is. I'll have Cynthia take me."

I smiled, it was a weird life, but I liked it. Myrna was wonderful, and even Cynthia, annoying as she was had her moments. It was fun to hang out with them.

Myrna was wearing her wicked smile, a smile that was as new as her new look. I'd seen it only a couple of times now, but I was beginning to recognize it.

"I have to go to class too, you know," Myrna said, too innocently.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" I asked.

"Well it's a big lecture hall class. At least a hundred people, maybe two," Myrna brought her lips up to my ear and her voice dropped to a conspiritorial whipser. "I was thinking you could come with me."

I honestly didn't know where she was going with this.

"Remember that finger thing you did last night..."

I blushed, I had had Myrna begging form more bucking and writhing with every little flex of my index finger.

"...I was thinking of how hot it would be to have you try that in class."

I looked at Myrna in shock. That was very kinky. "I think there are rules against... um... public displays of affection," I blushed.

"We'll sit in the back, nobody will ever know," Myrna fluttered her eyebrows, a skill I had no doubt she had practiced with Cynthia.

"OK."

***

We sat down in the last row of the auditorium. Myrna had not been kidding when she said it was a big class. I didn't know that there were this many students on campus during the summer.

"Dr. Hidgens is the most popular lecturer at the school," Myrna explained quietly as she swung her little desk up and over so that it covered her lap. She grabbed my hand and led it under the seat rest between us.

"And this is his most popular class - ancient myth and modern literature," she smiled as I softly and experimentally felt under her skirt. No underwear. She must have been planning this all day.

Myrna was right, no one sat in the back two rows.

An older man, his hair silvery and well combed came in and started writing on one of the six black boards. Immediately all the students began to copy his words into their notebooks - all except one, who was fighting to keep from making any noises that would give us away.

From somewhere in the distance I heard the lecture start. "We are going to talk about the origins of the Trojan war today..."

I was more concerned about listening to Myrna trying to keep her breathing steady as I gently touched her in her most sensitive spots.

It almost seemed like a game, I tried to keep Myrna riding the edge. She even tried to keep notes, but I could see that her normally neat handwriting was erratic today.

"...Athena offered Paris great strength and prowess in battle..."

Myrna scrawled the word strength before a powerful shudder traveled up her body.

"...but Aphrodite's offer was the most irresistable..."

Myrna was gripping the edge of her desk with white knuckles, smiling and breathing in short breaths. Her eyes were closed.

"...and because of her actions, the Trojans, and their heroes, were killed by the Greeks..."

Class was drawing to an end, and Myrna was drawing near the end of her strength. I pushed her gently over the edge. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. I was afraid she might snap her poor mechanical pencil in half. Instead her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slouched backward, all the resistance draining out of her body. She was covered in a thin glow of sweat.

The professor was dismissing students and I pulled my hand away, she caught it and held it, crossing her legs demurely.

"Best lecture I've ever attended," she sighed.

***

That evening, Myrna was trying to copy her notes from class.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," she sighed as she struggled to decipher another word.

"Admit it," I quipped watching TV, "you still think it was a good idea."

Myrna sighed. "Yeah," she said wistfully, "I still do. We just can't do it again until after summer midterms."

I nodded.

We were lounging in Cynthia's and Myrna's room. Cynthia needed to take a shower before we left - she had apparently worked out after class. Myrna was probably just as sweaty, but for now at least content to let that sweetly earned dampness linger.

The door to the bathroom opened and Cynthia emerged, wearing only a towel - on her head.

"Pffftt-" was Myrna's exceberated response. She went back to writing notes. Apparently she had grown a thicker skin to Cynthia's mischief than I thought possible.

Cynthia pretended to show us no mind, while seeming to be undecided in what to wear for the rest of the evening.

I tried not to stare, but the TV did a bad job in distracting me. Cynthia was showing off her brazilian wax - among other things. Her huge breasts were as massive and seemingly gravity resistant as I remembered them. What surprised me was how sculpted her body was, especially now, right after she got back from the gym.

"Hey, Myrna, is it okay if I borrow that cute little skirt you just bought for tonight?" Cynthia asked.

Myrna didn't look up, just pointed to one of her drawers. Cynthia sauntered over, opened it and pulled out a bright red skirt. She smiled and kneeled over and planted a kiss on Myrna's cheek.

"Thanks, babe."

Cynthia eyes flickered over to me. I wasn't paying attention to the TV anymore.

"Hmm... I think he liked that..." Cynthia mused. She put a hand on Myrna's chin. She slowly turned it to face her. Myrna looked puzzled by Cynthia's actions - too puzzled to struggle.

Cynthia kissed her again - but this time not on the cheek.

"Hey!" Myrna pulled back angrily.

"Sorry," Cynthia protested her hands up in front of her in surrender. She crossed them under her still bare breasts and considered me. I tried my best to turn back toward the TV.

There was a moment of silence and I heard Myrna start scribbling again. I felt a hand on my shoulder - Cynthia's hand. "You liked that didn't you?" She purred.

I didn't react - but out of the corner of my eye I saw Myrna turning in her chair to face us.

Cynthia turned back to Myrna. "You like him - but how much?"

Myrna stood up, "What is that supposed to mean?" She hissed angrily. For the first time in the since Cynthia had returned Myrna seemed truly angry. Cynthia, for her part, seemed unruffled standing naked in the middle of the room coolly regarding Myrna.

"What would you do to make Eric happy?" Cynthia smiled as she asked the question. "That's what I mean. What would you do to make him happy?"

Myrna didn't answer. But her eyes widened and her anger seemed to dissolve.

Cynthia ran her hands over her ridiculous gravity-defying breasts. "He tries to ignore me, but I see the way he looks at me. Hell, it's the same way most guys look at me. What can I say? It's a curse." Cynthia laughed.

Myrna grimaced.

"But, he doesn't want me," Cynthia continued walking up to Myrna. She brushed the back of her fingers against Myrna's gel stiffened hair. Myrna didn't move. "Best I can tell," Cynthia started again, "is what he want is for us to kiss again."

Myrna looked at me. I tried to remain expressionless, but Myrna's eyes turned from surprise to resignation to a hopeless look of defeat. She turned back toward Cynthia again.

Myrna in shoes and Cynthia barefoot put them at just about the same height. Cynthia pulled the towel away from her head and tossed it against the cinder block wall. Her damp hair tumbled down to her shoulders. Myrna hesitated but closed her eyes and pursed her lips. She leaned forward.

Cynthia smiled victoriously watching me from the corner of her eye. She pushed forward. Her breasts pushed against Myrna's smaller pair completely smothering them. Her long toned arms wrapped around Myrna's shoulders, her fingers entangled into Myrna's stiff hair.

They kissed, a long kiss. I couldn't breathe. The tension of it all was too much.

Myrna pulled back and Cynthia's plump lips followed her for a second. Myrna looked over at me. She glumly regarded me. There was no hiding my excitement. Myrna's shoulders slumped as she saw the telltale bulge in my pants.

Cynthia didn't open her eyes. "I told you, didn't I?" She purred victoriously.

We didn't go see a movie that night.

***

The next evening Myrna had a surprise for me. She wouldn't tell me where we were going until she pulled up to a small non-descript building labelled 'Paradise.' She led by the hand to the door.

It was a strip club. The bouncer gave us an odd glance as he saw me being dragged by the hand by a broadly smiling Myrna. She stopped when he raised his hand.

"He'll have to pay cover," the big man's voice was a rumbling baritone. He was pointing a big finger at me.

Myrna reached into her pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. I couldn't tell how much she gave the man, but it apparently wasn't a little amount. The big man pulled out a stamp and took my arm and pressed it against the back of my hand. It left a bright green 'P' when he pulled it away.

"Enjoy your evening."

We stepped inside. The first thing I felt was the music, loud pulsating in the darkness of the club. As my eyes adjusted I could immediately tell that Myrna had brought us to a high class place.

I could feel the eyes turn to us as Myrna led me to a table right at the edge of the stage.

"When you said surprise I never would have guessed this."

Myrna smiled - her wicked smile again. "You should've seen the looks the Kappa Sig guys gave me when I started asking about the best strip clubs."

I had to laugh at the image.

A stripper had started to dance at the pole right above our table. She was still dressed - barely - in lingerie. She was looking down at me as if I were the only thing in the world. I had to remind myself it was an illusion - it was her job.

Myrna stood up and called up. "Hey there gorgeous."

The stripper pulled her eyes away from me, seeming to now just notice the woman who sat across from me.

Myrna pulled out a twenty. "Any chance of me getting a lap dance?"

The girls loved Myrna. "She's adorable," one of the dancers said - a girl wearing stockings, boots and not much else. She got free lap dances from another, and afterwards, I discovered, her number too, scrawled on the back of a 'Paradise' business card.

We ended up in the VIP room - Myrna was apparently causing quite a scene in the front room. It was hard for the girls to make tips when all the guys in the club were gathered around Myrna. She was getting creative with the way she was tipping our dancers, and she seemed to have a never ending roll of bills to pay for private dances.

Myrna and I, and a stripper named Candy - her real name was Susan - she tipsly confided - were sharing the last of an expensive champagne bottle Myrna had purchased.

Candy was sitting in Myrna's lap her legs hanging over the arm of their chair. She was wearing only a bright green thong. I sat across from them, watching a dancer on the pole.

Myrna and Susan were talking quietly, their voices barely distinguishable over the distant booming base.

"Oh, come on," Susan was saying, "you're like every guy's dream - a woman who'll take her boyfriend out to a strip joint? One who'll pay? One who buys herself lapdances? God! I better not tell my man about you, he thinks dating a stripper is as good as it gets."

"Yeah, but look at you," Myrna traced two fingers across the ridge of Susan's bust. "You're perfect."

"Me...?" Susan shook her head, "no, fake tits does not the perfect woman make. Besides," I could feel the stare she gave me, "I think you've done pretty well for yourself."

Myrna smiled. "Hands off, he's mine."

Susan pouted, "How about a lap dance for him - on the house?"

Myrna quickly retorted. "How about another one for me?"

Susan chewed her lip. "How about the two of you in the same chair?"

Myrna looked over at me. Our eyes met. I was clearly not paying any attention to the woman working the pole in front of me.

"Alright," Myrna said, emphasizing her words with a loud slap on Susan's rear. Susan sat up. Her mouth in a surprised 'o,' which quickly turned to an amused glance at Myrna.

"Hey Darla, why don't you give me the room?" Susan turned to the dancer. The pole dancer gave an annoyed look at Susan and one last - was it forlorn? - look at me. Myrna got up and walked across the room - shakily - one of the girls had let her try on her stilleto heeled performance shoes - and Myrna hand't yet returned them. Myrna flopped down on my lap and I wrapped my arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around my neck.

I could feel Myrna's breath quicken as Susan started swaying to the distant beat. I could feel her body heat as she brought her huge chest to within an inch of our faces.

"You know," she purred dancing away again, "usually the rules say 'no touching' but if you wanted to," her breasts were once again hanging right in front of Myrna and I, "I'd let you kiss - I promise I won't tell no one."

Myrna leaned forward first, her lips settled gently around Susan's swollen nipple. I followed Myrna's lead. The hard flesh between my lips was warm and the solid weight of the breast against my face was erotic. Susan gasped in surprise.

"That's good..." she moaned. "Hey..."

Myrna had put her fingers through the loops of Susan's thong. She looked up at Susan with a wicked grin before she began to tease them down. Susan didn't protest again as they fell to the ground.

"Susan," Myrna purred, "how about the three of us break some more rules?"

***

Susan wasn't the last. After that night it was a rare occasion that I slept with Myrna alone. Myrna was my wingman - or I guess - wingperson. Together we'd chat up girls at bars and clubs and the three of us would retire back to my room to have a good time. Myrna, however, preferred the nights when we stayed in her room. Cynthia and Myrna had pushed their beds together, and the three of us were making good use of the new space.

It was after just sort that sort of night that I woke up to. On my right was the familiar warmth of Cynthia's naked body, but on my left was nothing but open bed. I turned, saw a thin light eminating from under the bathroom door.

I quietly tried to get up. Cynthia mumbled a protest and her arms wrapped themselves around me, trying to pull me back down. I responded by placing a finger on the wet spot between her legs. I instictively found the spot where she was most sensitive and vibrated my finger tip over it. Cynthia's mumbled protest turned to a gasp of pleasure.

I roughly and quickly brought her to orgasm. She collapsed, now deeply asleep.

I rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom door. I placed my ear against it and heard a sound that made my heart stop.

Myrna was crying.

I opened the door slowly. Myrna was curled up in the corner - seated on the bathmat. She was nude, and was hugging her knees up to her chin. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She looked up at me in shock, quickly blinked the tears away from her eyes.

"Myrna?" I asked, my voice strained with sudden choking grief.

"Hi, Eric," she smiled - a thin fragile smile. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"What's wrong?"

Myrna's scrunched up her face. "Nothing," she said, "I'm great..." She was about to start crying again.

I knelt down beside her, so our faces were only a few inches apart. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," she protested a tear escaping from her eye despite her attempt at stoicism.

"Please, Myrna, tell me what's bothering you," I put my arms around her.

"Nothing, nothing is wrong with me." She blinked again and another tear ran down her cheek. "In fact, I'm great, I'm happy, I love you, I love my nights with you - I think I even love Cynthia," she gave me a apologetic look, "a little."

"What's wrong then?" I was groping around in the dark.

"Eric, I'm transferring schools." She said.

At first I foolishly thought it might be a joke. I quickly realized that it wasn't.

"No problem, I can transfer with you," I hesitated unsure why she still was giving me a pained look, "if you want, I bet I could even get Cynthia transferred."

Myrna laughed, "I think I would like that," she smiled, but there was no mirth in it. "No, Eric, you aren't coming with me - and neither is Cynthia."

"I don't understand," I admitted.

"I love you," Myrna said, hoarsely.

"I still don't understand." Myrna looked at me, and this time her smile was genuine. She touched my cheek.

"Remember when you told me about that weird night at the pool?"

I racked my brain, an event from history - ancient history - began to form in my mind.

"That was the night we started going out," I remembered.

"Going out." Myrna put the phrase in air quotes. "I remember it differently - you came back to my station and suddenly I needed to have you, more than anything I wanted you. And when you took me - right there on the floor - I knew I loved you and that I would do anything for you."

Myrna looked at me. "You don't understand what the 'Recompense of Paris' is, do you?"

I shook my head. "Yeah, you didn't pay much attention in Dr. Hidgens class," Myrna teased me her spirits momentarily light. "Paris was the poor guy who could have any woman on the planet, and he got Helen, the most beautiful woman on the planet. Unfortunately, she was married to the King of Sparta - and as a result the Greeks declared war on the Paris' city, Troy."

"Like the Brad Pitt movie?"

Myrna laughed. "Yes. Or like the Illiad. Anyway, Paris wasn't always the most eligible bachelor on the planet. It started when three goddess - Athena, Hera and Aphrodite - were arguing which was the most beautiful. They turned to Paris to render a verdict. Naturally they tried to bribe him. Aphrodite's offer was the one that Paris took - if he chose her - he could have any woman he desired."

Myrna stopped, as if her retelling of ancient myth explained anything. She saw the uncertainty in my eyes.

"The woman said she was Aphrodite and was gifting you with the 'Recompense of Paris.'"

My head was pounding, I needed time to think, "Yes... but..."

Myrna interrupted me. "She gave a gift to Paris - and it destroyed him and his city. Maybe, that didn't sit right with the Pantheon, maybe she had to make amends. Maybe she had to try again."

"The Recompense of Paris," I let the words tumble over in my head.

"You," Myrna held my head in her hands and looked into my eyes. "You can have any woman you desire."

I felt my mouth grow dry.

"Does that mean..." I couldn't choke out the words, they were too horrible to contemplate. "Does that mean you don't really love me?"

Myrna looked stunned - I don't think she could have been more surprised than if I had suddenly spouted a new head. She smiled again, and gently kissed me on the forehead.

"Far from it," Myrna sighed, "I love you more than anything. It might be supernatural, but I can tell you that for me it's as real as a brick wall. I love you, Eric. More than life itself, and I want you to be happy."

"Then stay."

Myrna shook her head. "You can have any woman you want - any woman in the world. And I'm... I'm standing in your way. I'm keeping you from being truly happy. You love me, but you deserve better. You can have better. The whole world is out there for your taking. All you have to do is ask."

"What if I asked you to stay?" my vision was getting hazy. I realized I was crying.

"Then I would," Myrna said, clearly pained. "But please, I'm begging you, let me go."

I didn't say anything. In her eyes was another unspoken fear. It was so clear I wondered how I didn't recognize it before. She was trapped - and she knew it. She was in a prison - tied to me by an insatiable need and supernatural love. The sweetest and most inescable prison possible. Part of her was struggling to be free, to not be controlled by forces we couldn't fully understand, but the other part - probably the larger part - loved me completely and totally.

"Please," Myrna begged. She took my hand and she placed something in it. It was cold and hard, I took my hand back and opened it. It was a ring on a chain.

I couldn't respond - I couldn't find my voice. I just nodded once - an assent.

"Just," Myrna's voice shook with hesitation and uncertainty, "don't forget me. I love you." She started to reach out, but her hand stopped short of my skin.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her too, but I was afraid those words would make her task even more impossible. I had to satisfy myself with another nod and an anguished stare.

She left before dawn.

[Vandar_savage]

Aphrodite's Blessing Chapter 3: Changing the World
Submitted by dr_muscles on August 12, 2008 - 3:18pm
It had been five years since Myrna left.

If you had told me before that one man could change the world in five years I would have laughed, thought you were crazy. Turns out five years can be a lifetime. If you had told me that changing the world mostly consisted of driving around the country in a pair of RV's - well maybe it would have sounded so crazy I might have actually believed you.

I woke up wedged between the hard flesh of muscled bodies - three of them to be exact. I untangled myself, and stepped between the limbs. The only complaint was a sleepy groan - a sign that I had not woken any of them.

I could tell as I pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the kitchen from the grey light filtering in through the windows that it was dawn. I grabbed a half empty beer off the kitchen countertop and flopped down on the bench that ran across the opposite side of the trailer. I was still naked - but that wasn't terrible unusual in this household - most days clothing was strictly optional.

I rolled my shoulders, experimentally stretched my arm over my head. It was sore - but that was unsurprising - the girls tended to forget themselves in the heat of the moment - and they are - I can attest - very strong. I was getting stronger myself - even though I didn't work out - certainly not like the girls did. A product of a vigirous lifestyle, I guess.

My hand instinctively closed on the ring I wore on a thin chain around my neck.

I leaned my head back and took in a mouthful of the warm beer. I closed my eyes and let it burn my tongue before swallowing. I could feel the gentle rocking of the trailer before I ever heard the curtain russle. Someone else was awake.

I opened my eyes. Standing holding aside the curtain to the bedroom was Samantha. She tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes, but finally had to rub them with the side of her hand. She was naked - as I said - clothing optional - except for a thin leather collar around her neck.

All three girls wore those silly things. If I asked them to, they'd probably stop - probably - but they seemed so damn proud of them.

She stifled a yawn. "What time is it?"

"Early," I realized that I was being a bit terse and looked up. Samantha had her eyes cast down as if I had rebuked her.

"Sorry, I'm not much of a morning person," I said trying to wipe the look of concern off her face.

She smiled, a look that lit up her pixish face. "I know. You keep us all up too late." When she smiled she was beautiful. Well, even when she didn't smile. She had a beautiful face. It was important - key in fact - to changing the world.

Five years ago she had been a biochemisty grad student. If I had seen this Samantha five years ago she would have been the most muscular woman I'd ever seen - even now it was close. I've measured her arms at the biceps - 24 inches - which, I can assure you, is pretty damn ridiculous. For her height, though, it was downright absurd. I'd never seen anyone even close. Her stomach wasn't flat - each muscle bulged out like handholds on a climbing wall - but she was very thin, her waist waspish. Her breasts were huge bags of flesh - fake unfortunately - a necessary compromise considering she carried almost no fat on the rest of her body.

Anyone who had met her five years ago would scarcely recognize her. A more sarcastic man would say that it was her haircut - she had cut off most of her dark hair leaving only a tomboyish crop of wild hair.

I closed my eyes again and leaned my head back. My left hand was still playing with the ring that hung against my chest.

"Are you okay?" Samantha asked uncertainly.

"Just thinking." A lie - I was actually trying not to think.

"Do you want company?" I looked up at Samantha, she was watching me closely. I had to admit of all the girls Samantha was probably my favorite. She was the smallest - a couple of inches shorter than me - even if, to be fair, she outweighed me by at least 50 lbs. I gave her another look. Probably more than 50 lbs. Being the shortest had given her something of an attitude, which I found adorable.

I nodded and patted the empty bench beside me. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she walked the two steps to sit next to me. Even now - to watch her muscle move under her skin - was awe inspiring. Her biceps quivered with each step, jumping and writhing, leaping with every twitch of her forearms.

She sat down and I felt the solid heft of her arm across my back. She layed her head down on my shoulder.

"Any chance we can go out tonight?"

"I'll think about it," I said noncommittally. I wasn't in the mood to go out and mingle with people, but I didn't want to upset Samantha again - there was no need for her to share my dark mood.

"Oh, come on, please," she pouted. I sighed.

"I guess."

Samantha giggled with joy and pulled me into her lap for a hug. Those gigantic arms wrapped around my chest. She was careful not to hurt me, but in her grip it was still hard to breath and the sudden embrace poured what little beer was left on to her shoulder. It ran in little rivulets down the ridges of her back and the peaks and valleys of her massive arms.

She released me, and I took a deep breath. I had clearly made Samantha's day. She more than any of the girls loved going out. We would go to a bar or a club. As we'd enter every head would turn toward us - me specifically - and then the girls that accompinied me. I had learned to control my powers of attraction better, and no woman in that club could ignore me.

Samantha loved soaking in those stares - especially when it became clear that I was very much not avaliable. She loved the admirers and the nervous would be suitors - not all of them guys - who in the face of overwhelming evidence built up the nerve to hit on her.

More than once I'd had to find her at closing time. Usually it would be in some secluded dark corner. She would be sitting, legs spread wide, her lucky admirer on their knees in front of her. It was always a woman - and almost always a short waifish one. I suspected she enjoyed her physical dominance and the ego stroke more than she ever liked their eager tongues. I knew no matter how gifted they were, it couldn't compete with an average night with me. "Recompense of Paris," after all.

"Sorry about that," I said, apologizing for the spilled beer.

"My fault," Samantha ran a finger along the edge of her mighty bicep, catching a drop of beer as it ran down the curve of her arm. She smelled it, and then experimentally sucked on it. She winced, clearly not liking the taste. "Ugh," she worked her lips to rid her mouth of the taste. "I don't think that was from yesterday."

I regarded the now empty bottle in my hand. "You know, I think you're right." I looked around the cramped kitchen - pots and pans littered the sink and dirty plates the countertops. I replaced the beer bottle from where I'd found it. "This is a mess."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it - I'll add it to the list of punishments," The punishments were one of the ways the girls motivated each other. Cheating on your diet, not finishing an excercise to reps - any one could be grounds for punishment. The most dreaded was driving the other RV during the long cross country roadtrips. It helped keep the peace, and gave an outlet for petty jealousies and grievenses that arose between the girls. Petty jealousies that usually sprang from one of the girls getting special "alone time" with me.

I stood and Samantha watched me, her brown eyes peering out from underneath long lashes. A wicked glimmer appeared in her eyes.

"So," Samantha said too casually, "seeing as we are the only two up, any chance that I could, possibly, maybe give you a blowjob?"

Clearly Samantha was pleased that she had convinced me to go out this evening and was now seeing how far she could push my acquiesense.

"What about Rose and Amber?" I asked pointedly, nodding slightly in the direction of the bedroom.

"They'll never know," Samantha rolled her eyes, "besides serves them right for sleeping in." Waking up last carried its own punishment - but not one from the list of punishments - with three girls and one bathroom this was a punishment of the more conventional type. I suspected that was one of the reasons Samantha had cut off most of her hair - low maintenence.

I shrugged, and Samantha grinned in delight. I reached over - popped open the fridge and grabbed a cold beer as Samantha settled on her knees in front of me. She saw the beer and offered up her hand.

"Do you mind?" She raised an eyebrow evocatively.

The girls loved showing off. Samantha took the cold bottle and pushed the cap against her bellybutton. She flexed and her abs bluged to life engulfing the cap and the top of the neck. Her arm twitched, her bicep spasmed, and I heard the familiar release of air as the cap twisted free. A trickle of cold beer washed down the cobblestones of her waist and along the upper edge of her massive legs to her perfectly smooth and hairless crotch. She shivered as the liquid crept down.

"That's better," she grinned and took a swig and then handed the bottle up to me. I took it, she relaxed her stomach and I heard the cap hit the floor.

I took a long drink as Samantha kissed the tip of my dick. She worked me expertly and I stood enjoying the cool bottle and her warm mouth. She was methodical and gentle - she pulled back and caught my member within the soft folds of her mammoth breasts. She kneeded them, and with them my dick caught in her expansive bosom.

I came, and Samantha laughed in delight.

"Hey!" I looked up. Amber stood in the doorway holding back the curtain to the bedroom. She looked at Samantha clearly upset. I had warned her they wouldn't like it.

Samantha ran two fingers across the tops of her breasts and neck which were now covered in my seed. She gathered it up as she went until she carefully sucked them clean. "What?" She asked innocently.

Amber and Rose had a predictable reaction. Samantha, it had was decided, had to both clean the kitchen and drive the other RV. Her constant stream of complaints over the CB radio gave no end of pleasure to Amber as she drove us toward New Jersey. I was in the bedroom with Rose. It had also been decided that the only fair way to deal with Samantha's indiscretion was for all of the girls to have a go with me alone.

It was going to be a busy day.

***

Changing the world? Driving cross country in an RV with three incredibly beautiful and muscle bound women? I mean what happened? Even now it seems hard to believe.

It all started the night Myrna left. Cynthia had been thrilled, though she of course had done her best to hide it. She thought she had me all to herself. She was wrong. With Myrna gone, all my inhibitions fell away. I went though phases - red heads, short girls, tall busty blondes (Cynthia had loved that phase). It was a blur, every night brought a new woman, every day a hunt for the next one that caught my eye.

And every time I closed my eyes I saw Myrna. Sometimes I saw her as the devastatingly beautiful fashionista she had transformed herself into for me - but most of the times she was dressed in baggy clothes and shorts painting her toenails on her bed. Myrna from summer break - the best two weeks of my life.

I was lost.

I was also flunking out.

I was able to stay enrolled, mostly by asking for favors from the female faculty. Don't get your mind in the gutter, there was nothing improper, but I was realizing that women always seemed more than happy to lend a hand. Because of them I was allowed to work through my classes at my own pace.

I felt purposeless, hopeless. I certainly had no thoughts about "changing the world." If anything I wanted to break something - I had no thoughts about changine the world - but the idea of turning it on its head seemed intermittently appealing.

I was wandering across campus. I could tell from the pale grey in the sky that dawn was coming. I had spent the night with a Ukranian exchange student and Cynthia, but after they had fallen asleep I'd left.

The campus was peaceful in the pre-dawn hours, quiet and most importantly - no women.

I found my self wandering toward the student center. As I approached I realized that, quite improbably, there was a table of students sitting together. Curiosity compelled me onward. Who else would be out and about at this time of morning?

In the predawn gloom I had to get closer before I realized that they were all wearing matching mesh tanktops and baseball caps - their broad shoulders confirmed my initial suspicions. It was a sports team. Probably headed off to a tournament, I thought. Curiosity sated, I was about to turn when one of them removed their hat. Long blonde hair fell to their shoulders - her shoulders - I suddenly realized with a shock. They were all women.

It was if my brain had suddenly caught fire. I had to know who these mysterious athletes were. I'd never seen such physiques before and - trust me - I'd gotten to known a lot of woman recently.

The girls all looked up startled as I emerged out of the pre dawn gloom.

"Who are you?" I asked, only vaguely realizing how impossible that question sounded.

The girls looked at me, a familiar look of wanting beginning to creep into their stare. They were confused by my inquiry and between their stares cast nervous glances to each other.

It was finally the woman I had seen take off her baseball cap who spoke. She blushed, clearly embarressed to be the object of my attention. "I'm Carrie... um...," she glowed redder, "we're the rowing team. The bus is coming to take us to a meet..."

I felt my lips grow dry. "Carrie, stand up."

She did, and I could already feel the shift in the air as the other girls' jealousy flared as I singled her out. She did. Slowly, and shyly. I walked up to her, I didn't realize it, but now as she stood up she was taller than me - she must have been over six foot tall. She was breathing rapidly now, and I could almost hear her heart beating. If I wanted to, she could be mine, right then and there.

"Carrie," I asked my toungue feverishly working over my dry lips. "Can you flex for me?"

That brought nervous laughter from the table, but Carrie straightened her arm and pulled it torward her. I watched as a solid bicep rose to a peak. I was stunned. I touched it gingerly, unbelieving. At my touch Carrie shivered and closed her eyes. If I had asked her to get down on her knees and give me a blowjob she would have, and been proud to do so. In fact, she would have been the envy of her teammates.

Instead I just asked: "Can you flex your legs for me?"

She lowered her eyes and with shivering hands pulled off her sweat pants - revealing shorts and her magnificent legs. I'd never seen a shelf of muscle hanging above the knee of a woman before. She flexed - and it bunched into hard quadreceps. She relaxed - shook it out, and then quickly flexed again. I put my hand on her leg, just above the knee. It was amazing, to feel those muscles turn to steel under my grasp, to squeeze and feel solid resitance under soft feminine skin. I wanted her, and she wanted me - she wanted me more than anything she'd ever wanted in her life.

She slid up her jersey, revealing the bottom of her tanktop. Under that was a smooth surface that as I watched hardened into a six pack. My mind reeled. I'd never seen a woman with a six pack. Never even considered it. I touched it, let my thumb play over each of the fine ridges that separated the muscles. It was extraordinary. I stared at her body. I hadn't felt like this since the first time I had seen Myrna naked.

Myrna. It thought blazed in my mind, scattering all my other ones.

Carrie's body was sculpted for rowing - to compete. Suddenly I felt it was very important that I not get in the way of that.

"Carrie..." I couldn't find my voice, I wanted to feel that body under me. I wasnted to feel those strange hard muscles slide under her feminine skin. "Carrie... good luck at the meet."

Carrie froze, and her lips pursed together in disappointment.

"Maybe, I'll see you around?" I suggested. That brought a huge smile to her face.

I waited with the team until the bus came, Carrie entered last, casting a long lingering glance back at me from the stairs. When she got in she was mobbed by her teammates all competing to share with her how jealous they were, or congratulate her on how lucky she was.

I became an instant fan of the rowing team. The crew pressured their coach - an old battleaxe of a lady - to let me ride the bus with them to meets. She had been unhappy, until the first time we met, and ever afterward she loved that I came along.

When it became known that I attended the rowing meets attendence soared - mostly women. And when I started hanging out with Carrie - a fact that provoked no end of disbelief - it suddenly thrust Carrie into the role as most popular woman on campus.

That's when I first noticed the change. I was still working the late night desk at the fitness center. More and more woman were making their way to the weight rooms. Carrie and her fellow crew members began to work out more fervantly than ever before. All across campus I began to see the unmistakable bicep bulge from girls picking up textbooks, answering cell phones or having their morning coffees. Carrie kept ahead of all of them her body responding to the new intensity she put into her workouts.

It gave me an idea - the first glimmerings of a plan. I began to see evidence of it everywhere I looked. The women around me were changing. I wasn't changing them - not physically at least - but it was clearer with every bare midriff I saw that showed the beginnings of a six pack.

I now had a theory. I can pose it as a question: Why do women starve themselves? Is there a guy out there who likes to be able to count all of his woman's ribs? No. The simple answer is that woman starve themselves because other women tell them that's how to look good.

Maybe not directly, but they see that the girls the guy favor are not overweight, they hear their about their friends dieting and suddenly its a competition to see who can eat the least.

You see women have always been the guardians of standards of beauty. And I'd flipped the whole rat race on its head. Now women on campus were telling their girlfriends how they needed to get to the gym and lift and they all saw Carrie with me walking tall and strong. Now, they were comparing vitamin supplements and protein shakes. Now, they were debating the relative merits of lifting to failure.

A plan began to perkolate in my head - an experiment on a wider scale. I started going to clubs with Carrie or a amateur bodybuilder name Theresa I'd met at a gym downtown, or both. We'd dance, we'd trade little whispers at a table. They would flex for me, I'd dotingly kiss their biceps while the whole time hundreds of female eyes watched me, were drawn to me by a force they couldn't understand.

I began to see changes - changes measured in days - gyms filled up, nutrition stores suddenly found their stocks depleted. I had a wild thought, a wild thought that gave me direction for the first time since Myrna left. I'd get to break something, give release to all my dark thoughts that had been trapped in my head since Myrna had gone. However, I was going to form something new from the old broken order. I was going to break old taboos and create new ones.

The thought was almost intoxicating. I was going to change the world

And I probably wouldn't have had destiny not intervened. I had started hopping from big cities, finding the most muscular women I could and going out in public with them.

Maybe it had nothing to do with me, maybe it was just dumb luck, or maybe it was the sudden changing focus of fifty percent of the population that made it inevitable. Science provided me with a godsend - a way to turn off Myostatin production in women. What is Myostatin? I have no idea. What I do know is that whatever it is, without it women grew huge muscles. It was a treatment that didn't work on everyone, and it was a delicate art, but it existed.

And my mind virus spread. Bodybuilding shows showcased huge women to sold out crowds. Hollywood noticed - and summer by summer the love interest's biceps swelled. Fashion magazines showcased new fashions for the buff and beautiful - modeled by women who were just that.

And at the middle of the storm was me. I rode across the country casting a watchful eye for the women I needed to further my goal. Amber and Rose, best friends who had jumped together into the great unknown and whose bodies had responded to the Myostatin treatments amazingly. Samantha, a grad student who had become obsessed with muscle and had designed a specialized treatment course that had turned her proportionally into the most muscular women on the planet. They were beautiful, young and more than happy to jump into an RV with me. They called themselves my harem and took a perverse pride in wearing self fasioned collars of ownership. We travelled the country - being seen together and in our wake leaving old concepts of beauty upturned and discarded.

It had been five years, but the world was now a strange and wonderful new place.

[Vandar_savage]

Aphrodite's Blessing Chapter 4: Brave New World
Submitted by dr_muscles on August 18, 2008 - 4:59pm
The club was packed, and from the moment we had entered every eye had fallen on us. I could feel the collective lust of the mass of women like a warm wet breathing on the back of my neck. They all wanted me, but between them and me were my girls.

Rose and Amber had chosen matching black dresses. The slit was scandlously long and the top was no more than overmatched strips of fabric clinging desperately to their long muscled forms. Samantha had been even less conservative - a bikini top and a mesh pullover, with a skirt. She was also wearing bright pink warmers on her forearms and below her knees - and I knew though it was less than obvious - no underwear. Some woman tonight was going to find herself in very good company.

The club seemed to suffer paralysis as we moved through it to a secluded table in the back. Slowly the dancers started to sway again, though they kept their eyes fixed on the table where we sat. I looked around to see the changes that had taken place since I had last been to the east coast.

There were still women of "average" builds - though they were all women who only five years ago would have been the most beautiful women in the club. I suppose they were women most afraid to commit to the evolving standard of beauty they saw around them for fear of losing the bodies that they naturally were gifted with. Even among them I thought I saw lithe muscles on their long arms, muscles that only five years ago would not have been there.

Everyone other woman at the club sported hard muscles whether it be slim fitness types or bulky bodybuilders. Many had attained physiques that far surpassed anything any woman had dreamed about five years ago. It seemed that not a week went by that some new miracle product was promising bigger biceps in just one month.

None compared to the tall lean bulk that Amber and Rose had, or, for her size, the unbelievably ripped physique Samantha commanded.

A constant crowd of woman were jockeying for attention at the tables around us. Too inventive lasses were trying to draw my attention with lesbian flirtations. One would flex, and the other would kiss the swollen muscles. It might have worked had Rose and Amber not noticed and started their own competing show, one that finally left the two woman staring slack jawed as Rose and Amber made out beside me. Samantha had her eyes on a small dark haired woman who had been casting us nervous glances from her table for over an hour.

Beside me, Amber and Rose were now standing. Amber had Rose's wrists pinned to the wall above her head and was kissing her as if her life depended on it. The two attempted lesbian showoffs were staring, completely unselfconcious, turned on and unable to look away.

Beside me the show was getting more risque, so much so it had caught a bouncer's attention. He was a huge man, and clearly we were violating some sort of decency laws. I cursed under my breath. If only the bouncer had been a female - they got big enough now a days - I could have taken care of it easily.

Samantha noticed the attention too. She quietly slid out of her seat and into the path of the oncoming bouncer.

He looked down at her - confused, at first. His confusion quickly turned to concern as he realized that while he might have the height advantage, Samantha's physique quite possibly put him at a disadvantage. For her part, Samantha just smiled, a broad smile on her pixish face. She rested her hands on her hips and looked for all the world as if nothing in the world could possibly cause her concern.

"Evening..." she smiled, flirtatously.

"Um... evening, ma'am," He was trying to size her up. She casually flexed her bicep and the bouncer's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

"What's wrong with two girls having fun?" Samantha looked back, and whistled. "Lot's of fun apparently."

"Um... I have to ask you to... um..." The bouncer was having trouble concentrating. Samantha was showcasing all her feminine charms, including those that only a few years ago would have been anything but - abs, huge biceps, and enormous quads.

"How, about, instead, I ask the girls to behave?" Samantha smiled wickedly. "I promise if they try anything else, I'll get between them." She pushed her tongue into the inside of her cheek.

The buoncer was obviously having trouble getting his words out. He just nodded. He watched as Samantha dragged a now topless Rose off of Amber. He shook his head, and turned away. Samantha winked at me.

She sauntered over, kissed me. I could practically feel the hold outs - women who five years ago would have been average - but now were the least muscular women in the club - grow green with envy. The next time we came back to the East coast I knew there would be fewer girls not sporting at least fitness level physiques.

Samantha let her kiss turn into a lap dance - this time the bouncer didn't make a reappearence.

Apparently confident we could get away with anything, Samantha reached down and carefully undid my pants. She turned and slid onto my hard shaft, hiding our public sex behind the table and her own skirt.

I could only see her back, wide and incredibly well muscled. The ridges of muscles in front of me rose and fell as her wet hungry pussy devoured my dick. I could feel her internal muscles contracting around me. Those muscles were as strong as any other on her body.

I contented myself with subtle little movements of my pelvis. I had gotten very good at getting women off, and Samantha was no exception. I let myself go and I orgasmed into her tight, well muscled interior. For her part she tensed every muscle and stared up at the ceiling. She relaxed slowly, the orgasm she had experienced taking its toll on her. She came down from her high, and as her muscles unfroze I felt her significant weight settle on my thighs.

She turned her head, so she could just see me. "Thanks, I needed that."

I nodded to my right, she unmounted me and returned to where she had been seated before. When she moved I saw that the ring of women around us were staring. Some were damp with sweat, and I realized that Samantha had not been the only woman who had climaxed. Some of the onlookers had orgasmed just by watching.

Samantha sereptitiously buttoned me back up.

"I think I'm going to go to the ladies room," she sighed.

"Is it the dark haired woman over there?" I asked, refering to a slim girl who dropped her eyes whenever Samantha or I made eye contact.

"Sure is," Samantha grinned, "I think she's going to enjoy tonight." She gave me a wicked look and then sprang up and sauntered over to the table the woman was sitting at. The crowd parted for her, even if they hadn't Samantha could have just thrown the intervening women out of the way. They looked like girls next to her ridiculous physique. She sat down across from the startled woman who had been staring at us.

The woman blushed as Samantha began to make conversation. She grew flushed as Samantha flexed a swollen bicep bigger than the her head and then again when she reverantly touched it.

I looked back to my left. Amber and Rose were now more conservatively talking - only occasionally exchanging kisses.

I stood up. Amber and Rose looked up at me as soon as I did.

"It's alright, I'm just going to make a round." The two girls nodded uncertainly but didn't follow. They didn't like to leave me alone.

Like for Samantha, the crowd also parted for me, as I made my way onto the dancefloor. Once I got there, however, girls pressed up against me, 'accidently' brushing against me.

I would talk to the women, feel their longing for me. I'd ask them to show me their muscles. They were always happy too. Then I'd point out Samantha or Amber or Rose. And the next time I made it to the New Jersey I could guarantee that that women's muscles would be even larger.

I was just appreciating one young lady's bicep - a respectable 15 inches - when I heard a deep and sexy voice behind me.

"Why waste your time with that girl..."

I turned and stood face to face with a muscular behemoth. She had a pretty face, long platinum hair and a physique that almost rivaled Samantha's. She was flexing her bicep.

"When you can have a woman?"

I whistled in appreciation. The only cleavage she had was comparitively tiny breasts set on massive slabs of pectoral muscle. Her arms were crisscrossed with vascularity that seemed to rope across her thick arm muscles.

"I'm Eric," I smiled. I drank in her thick muscled physique. She pushed roughly against me. With irresistable force, she pulled me into the hard ridges of her body.

"Why don't I show you what a real woman can do?"

It wasn't everyday I found someone whose body rivalled one of my girls. I was intrigued.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Call me Cee," she whispered into my ear. We started dancing. I could feel her tremble as we rubbed our bodies together. I was being careful to keep her from orgasming, but when we touched I could dampness seeping through her form fitting tights that showed off her tree trunk legs.

"Let's go outside," she panted in my ear, practically begging.

I just nodded. I could already feel my overstimulated cock growing hard.

She guided me out of the club and down behind the building, across the parking lot to a sloped grassy hill. I realized that at the bottom of the hill was a sandy beach and water. We were on the Atlantic coast.

She stepped away from me, and in the moonlight her skin gleamed as she began to strip away her clothes. Her physique did not disappoint. Her gleaming muscled bulged huge under her tautly stretched skin.

She pushed me roughly to the ground. "Please," she panted in my ear, "I need you." I didn't resist - it would have been pointless - as she grabbed my belt and with a quick snap ripped my pants open. My now hard dick sprang to life.

"Please..." she moaned. Naked, I could see that she was slick with desire - and that her she had a brazilian wax - just like my girls. I smiled, it looked like I might have found a perfect addition to my travelling harem. I frowned at her undersized breast, then shrugged. Samantha had been flat chested once - now she practically needed a new letter of the alphabet to describe her bust size.

She kneeded the tiny lumps of breast and hungrily impaled herself on me.

I tried to restrain myself as she pounded me. A full blown orgasm like I could deliver was potent the first time. I had gotten better at controlling that, too. My girls could barely take one now after spending every night together with me across the country.

Instead I just lay there, enjoying the solid mass of her muscles working in concert with every thrust. She wasn't going to last much longer I could tell. Rapid muscle spasms contracted her pussy around me as she began to lose it.

"Oh.... GOD!!!" She cried. "OH ERIC!!!"

She swayed and she toppled over onto the sand exhausted. My dick was still hard and now glowing soaked in her juices. Her huge leg still lay across my waist.

I tried to move it, but she tensed her leg and pinned me. Something was bothering me. I tried to move again. She was looking up into the night sky and laughing at my efforts.

"How did you know my name?" I realized that was what was bothering me. I tried sitting up, but she pressed her leg across my chest and kept my back on the sand. I struggled - but it was futile. Might have well have been trying to lift a tree.

She laughed again, sat up and straddled my waist. On either side of me, massive and powerful pillars of muscles gently but firmly kept me from moving, she lay forward so that her chin rested on her hands on my chest and I could look right into her eyes.

"Don't you remember me?" Cee asked.

"I meet a lot of women," I said hesitantly, but looking at her face I thought I did recognize something. I did know her, but it could have been from anywhere.

She shifted, so as to keep her full weight off my chest. Her left elbow dug into the sand and she rested her chin on her left hand. With her right she ran her fingers across my chest.

"You are even more irresistable than the last time I saw you," she purred. "It's OK that you don't recognize me - I did change my hair - it used to be darker." Her platinum blonde locks shone in the mmonlight.

She sat up so that her still damp hairless crotch pressed down against my still hard dick.

"Oh, Eric, I missed your touch. When you left, I thought I was going to go crazy. I masturbated nonstop - eight, nine, ten times a day. But all those hours, they weren't even a fraction as good as what I felt in the last ten minutes. You really are something, aren't you?"

She regarded me, her eyes shining in the moonlight.

"I went a little wild there for a time, but then I saw you again," Cee frowned, "but here I was, a scrawny worthless nymphomaniac and you were surrounded by the biggest women I had ever seen."

"I used to workout until I couldn't get up, and then I'd close my eyes and imagine I was one of those women. I would fantasize about using my muscles to get you off. How I would pick you up with one massive arm, and swallow your whole wonderful dick." She flexed her arm so hard she was shaking. A massive peak rose in response.

"A blowjob like that, then you'd come back to me. Then I'd be worthy." She rolled off me, quicker than I could believe and pulled me roughly to my feet. My torn pants swayed in the ocean breeze. I felt one arm circle me, and with a great cry, she hefted me into the air, to her shoulder. Her body shook with exertion as she lifted me up higher and I could feel her warm eager lips lock in around my shaft. She swallowed me until I could feel the warm interior of her throat.

With another herculean effort she pushed me with her single arm higher. I could feel the length of my dick being pulled out of her mouth, sliding out of her throat. The tip finally emerged from her lips with a wet smack. She was now shaking, the effort of holding me aloft one handed evident on her pained face.

She began to lower me when her arm gave way.

I fell. My gut impacted on her shoulder, and it was like a fist. With a wet smack I collided into her ungiving flesh and then down onto the sand. I lay there, my vision blurred from pain desperately trying to draw in a ragged breath of air.

Cee didn't even seem to notice. Her back was to me.

"I'm not good enough," she was chanting to herself. "Still not good enough."

I was in no condition to console her. I lay on the ground desperately trying to catch my breath.

She turned to me, and through my blurred vision I could make out her eyes. They looked insane.

She grabbed my ankle, and effortless started to drag me over the sand. I felt the waves break against me as she dragged me into the ocean. With a flip of her arm she tossed me into the briney waves. I struggled to get air.

"I'll never be good enough for you," she was saying as another wave broke over me. "But maybe we can still be together," her eyes were wide, "forever."

I tried to crawl away, but the waves were too strong for me - and Cee was much, much stronger than that.

She grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me up so that I was my face was right against her. I could feel the hard edges of her body pressed naked against me. She kissed me, her lips working over my face.

When I didn't kiss back she stopped. "I know, I'm still not good enough. It was never about me, even when it was only Myrna and me."

"Cynthia...?" I whispered in wonder.

"STOP!" Samantha's voice drowned out the ocean's roar. I turned my head as much Cynthia's grip allowed. "PUT HIM DOWN!" She was standing at the edge of the surf, the ocean water soaking her pink stockings.

"Take a step closer and I'll break him in half," Cynthia hissed. I felt a painful spasm run along my spine as she flexed her arms menacingly. She whispered to me. "Look at me, look at what I did to myself - all for you. I won't let you leave me again. I'm too strong for that now."

Samantha was edging toward us.

"I'm not kidding," Cynthia growled. I howled in pain as she sent a spasm of power through her massive arms. My head fell on to her the hard ridges of muscles that wrapped around her neck.

I had to do something, but when it comes down to it I'm only really good at two things - attracting women and getting them off. Hardly skills useful for self defense. But what else could I do? I strained and I could just reach her slick pussy.

Cynthia shivered - the sudden sensations completely overwhelming her. She dropped me and I had a freer hand to work her as I liked. She was completely unable to defend herself as Samantha tackled her. The impact was deafining, like two planks of wood striking each other.

The two woman landed with a violent splash. They tumbled over in the water.

"Samantha!" I yelled, trying to see if she was alright.

Suddenly a figure - clearly female but incredibly muscular emerged from the dark sea. From the nearly bald head I could tell it was Samantha. I felt thrill of relief until I realized that two arms had emerged with Samantha and the hands were clasped around Samantha's neck. Cynthia emerged now, seawater sheeting off her naked body.

Samantha had her hands tightly wrapped around Cynthia's wrists - and that was all that kept Cynthia from crushing Samantha's throat. Cynthia grunted and Samantha began to rise higher, all the time keeping her desperate grip on Cynthia's wrist.

Samantha rose until her feet emerged over the surf. She was fully out of the water held aloft by Samantha's massive arms. Without leverage Samantha's legs kicked against Cynthia's muscled frame with no obvious effect. I could tell though from the deafening wet smacks of impact that any lesser human being would have seriously injured by the blows.

"Cynthia let her go!" I yelled, but my voice was drowned out by the sounds of their surf and the thudding impacts that Cynthia ignored. Samantha's struggles were slowing, the tremendous strength needed to keep Cynthia's hands from coming together was draining her.

"Help me!" I cried to the empty beach. I ran toward the two, desperate.

I fell in the surf and smacked against Cynthia's unyielding leg. It was like running into warm marble. I reeled from the impact, but I'm not even sure Cynthia noticed it. I reached up and found my hand on the inside of Cynthia's massive thigh. I reached and once again pushed my finger into her wet folds.

The effect was immediate. She gasped and dropped a now almost unconcious Samantha. With a violent spasm of her leg she sent me flying and rolling across the abrasive sand.

I was having trouble seeing straight. I looked around and saw Cynthia turning in the sea looking for Samantha.

Behind Cynthia I saw a broad figure rise out of the water, Cynthia turned, but a broad right handed punch caught her right in the jaw. It took her to one knee. Samantha pulled back again and delivered another punch to Cynthia's chin. The huge woman went down into the shallow water. Samantha glumly scooped up her unconcious opponent and carried her to the beach. She unceremoniously dumped onto the sand as soon as they were clear of the water.

Samantha clothes - skimpy as they were - hadn't weathered the struggle well. Nearly naked and struggling for air her whole body seemed to expand with each breathe.

She looked down at me, concern written over her face.

"Are you alright?"

I tried to answer but my ribs hurt too much. Samantha scooped me up, and pressed up against her massive chest, securely held by her strong arms she started walking up away from the ocean. I ignored the searing pain in my chest and before I knew it, was unconcious.

***

I woke up in a hospital bed. Samantha was beside me wearing a ludicrously bad fitting hospital gown. It pulled away from her body, supported by her massive breasts.

"Nice look," I joked. I started coughing each one causing a spasm of pain.

"Yeah, the hosipital staff kept insisting I should put some clothes on - and this was all they had." Behind her on a couch I could see two other forms - I suspected Amber and Rose sleeping.

"How are they?"

"Rose and Amber?" Samantha asked surprised. Reluctantly she turned away from me and looked at the two sleeping muscular giants. "Well, they are beating themselves up for leaving you out of their sight. The wanted to kill Cynthia, but I convinced them just to take her to a police station. I think she's spending the night in a very, very secure cell. Oh, and they were pretty grateful."

I raised an eyebrow.

Samantha smiled. "From now on, I can have you all to myself on Mondays - and I can give you all the blowjobs I want - even if they aren't around to enjoy it."

"Pretty generous," I commented, closing my eyes.

"That's not even to mention that I'm adding a new 'punishment' to the punishment list - one just for them..."

"Do tell," I prodded when she paused. She wanted to tell me, and I wasn't in much of a mood to resist.

"Well, let's just say the next time you catch me with another woman its most likely going to be Amber or Rose. I've already punished each of them twice for letting you get hurt."

I smiled at the raunchy thought of Samantha being serviced. A flash of bitter memory pulled the smile off my face. "What about Cynthia?"

That really shocked Samantha. "The bitch is in jail. She got less than she deserved."

"She's not a bitch..." my statement was undercut by the fact that breathing was incredibly painful. "I think... I think..." I might have deserved that, I completed to myself. "I think, she's probably been taking some substances of questionable legality."

"Roid rage?" Samantha puckered her lips. She obviously was not happy with me defending Cynthia.

"Just ask the police to get a drug test. I think she needs help. I knew her once..." I grimaced, talking hurt. I cut to the point. "I don't want to press charges."

"Well, good for you. But, Eric, she tried to kill me! Like hell I'm not pressing charges." Samantha was mad now.

I didn't have the energy to open my eyes. I just shook my head. "Please, Sam. I think she's been through enough."

Samantha sighed, and placed a finger over my lips. "I think I'm going to invoke another one of my new rights," I opened my eyes and saw Samantha shrugging off her hospital gown.

She crawled up onto the bottom of my bed, her eyes hungry. I was asleep before she finished.

[Vandar_savage]

Aphrodite's Blessing Chapter 5: Old Flames
Submitted by dr_muscles on September 16, 2008 - 10:36am
When I was finally released from the hospital it was clear that there was a new pecking order in my harem. Amber and Rose now practically worshipped Samantha, jockying with each other for her favor as well as mine.

Samantha and I sat on the edge of the bed while between our legs Amber and Rose worked to get us off. Samantha had pulled me toward her and I was kissing her massive breasts.

Finally I came and Rose - who pulled back as she felt me start to orgasm was showered in my seed. Samantha gently tapped Amber's shoulder and she too stopped.

"Me first," Samantha said as Rose stood up, semen dripping off her chin, and sliding down and between her massive breasts. She gently work her tongue along Rose's neck, swallowing all that she could. Amber joined her a few seconds later and Rose collected it with her hands hungrily sucking my seed off her fingers. When she was dry the three girls collapsed on the bed, each trying to snuggle up against me.

Huge sacks of breasts were cushioning my head, huge muscular arms draped across me.

"All right you two," Samantha broke the calm. "You need to get to your workouts - I'm going to want to use the gym in an hour."

I kissed the two girls as they pouted and made their way out of the bedroom and to the other trailer - which was filled only with weights and gym equipment.

Samantha continued to lay there a few minutes longer, absently running her fingers through her hair with one hand, with the other trying to coax my well worked over member back to life. It was a futile effort.

I got up. "I'm going to take a shower," I cut off Samantha before she could say anything, "alone." There was precious little space in the RV bathroom without a huge muscular woman in there with me.

When I came back Samantha was typing at the keyboard of the laptop. She was naked - as usual - with just her little collar.

"Hmm... somebody at John Hopkins has a therapy that's pretty close..."

She kept tabs on the Myostatin inhibitor treatments being tested around the world. Specifically she compared it to her own - the one that had made her pound for pound the most muscular woman on the planet.

"...but they have to compensate for natural sodium imbalances..."

She scoffed. I didn't pay attention. None of it meant anything to me anyways.

"You should just tell the world how you did it."

She smiled, her broad smile shining on her pixish face. "And give away the secret to a physique like this?" She flexed, a casual flex that still had the power to make my heart skip a beat.

"No..." she paused, her bravado suddenly tempered, "...unless you really wanted me too." She winced, but I knew if I asked she would.

"Not yet."

She beamed.

"Would you mind looking up what Professor Derrida is up to?"

That made her scowl again. Glumly she typed the name in and hit 'search.' She started reading.

"She's tenured - youngest professor in the department."

"Still in Rome?"

Samantha's eyes scanned the page she was reading.

"No, she's doing work in Greece," Samantha went quiet as she read. Samantha raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Apparently got a permit to do some archelogical work. I don't think the government likes to hand those out."

"She can be pretty stubborn. Can I see?"

Samantha pouted, but turned the screen toward me. Myrna looked much like I remembered - except her eyes - her eyes looked haunted, the black cirlces under them deep.

I had kept tabs - she went to graduate school in Europe - apparently only the Atlantic provided enough distance. Her colleagues called her "driven," "dedicated," and "relentless." When she had walked away I hadn't realized the strength that required. Five years later I was only beginning to understand. She had graduated with her PhD in two years - a record. It didn't surpise me.

"What's her later publication?" I asked turning the computer back toward Samantha.

Samantha scowled, she hated looking up my former flame - and she especially hated looking up her research papers. Not just because she hated the competition - she didn't like that in intelligence Myrna might rival her - but because she always derided "liberal art" papers. Pretentious crap, she believed.

"Athena and female cults in Roman occupied Greece." Samantha sounded like just saying the words was distasteful.

I nodded as if the words meant anything to me.

I heard Samantha tapping on the keyboard, she was browsing for more information about Myrna when she gasped.

"What?"

"Umm... I don't know yet," Samantha eyes scanned back and forth across the page.

I rolled on the bed beside her so I too could see the screen. On it was an Italian newspaper article. Samantha scrolled down.

"Whats it say?"

"My Italian isn't that good," Samantha hedged, "but I think Myrna's missing."

***

I walked away from the motel room. The owner - a good looking woman in her thirties had said I could use it for as long as I wanted no charge. Inside I had left two exhausted and satisfied women.

As I got to the lobby I saw Samantha waiting for me.

"Are they asleep?" she asked.

I nodded. "They'll probably be asleep until tomorrow."

"They are going to be pissed when they find out," Samantha warned me.

"I left them a note, I told them I had to deal with an emergency and that while I was gone they had to keep traveling and showing the world what a real woman looks like."

"They'll forgive you," Samantha shook her head, "but they are going to be pissed at ME when they find out I left with you."

"So, you'll be with me in Greece when that happens" I turned and walked toward a beat up old pickup truck the motel owner had lent me.

I eyed it dubiously. "You think that will get us to La Guardia?"

Samantha shrugged, "I could probably push it there faster than it'll drive."

We got in. The old engine protested by finally turned over and I pulled out of the motel and onto the highway.

***

There was really only one practical reason to leave Amber and Rose in the states. The girls were nymphomaniacs. If I hadn't let them give me a blowjob or had sex with them every couple hours they grew restless.

As it was, the trip was torturous for Samantha. On the plane she wanted to drag me into the all too tiny plane bathroom and ravish me, but had to settle for secretive touches under the navy blue blankets the airline provided. Then we arrived at the airport, she popped into the ladies room two or three times to relieve the growing itch while we waited for our luggage. That was followed by a four hour bus ride until we reached our destination - a city on the Mediterrean sea called Pylos where Myrna had been doing research.

I had barely gotten the hotel room door closed when Samantha attacked. She leapt on me and ripped open my pants, she reached under her skirt and with the sound of tearing cloth tore away her underwear.

She was animalistic. She growled her huge arms pinning my shoulders while her legs drove her slit up and down my slick shaft. She began to orgasm without any help from me. That slowed her down - but only a little. It wasn't until her third orgasm that she finally began to calm down.

"I'm not looking forward to the return trip," she panted as she rolled off my still hard dick.

She was panting next to me, staring at the ceiling as she tried to catch her breath. I winced as I was now free to move, and discovered that, most likely, I'd be sporting several fresh bruises tomorrow. When Samantha finally had come back in to control of herself she propped herself up on her elbow and looked over me.

"Hmmm..." she said, her tongue running over her lips, and a sprakle in her big eyes, "looks like my job isn't quite finished..." She eyed my penis like a cat eyes a canary. "I've got you all to myself now." She sounded triumphant.

She lowered herself and began the work of getting me off. She wasn't content with just a run of the mill blowjob today. She threw my legs over her shoulders and lifted until my head scraped the ceiling. She pushed me against the wall and there trapped me as she frantically began to work for my seed.

When I came it was a fountain down her waiting and relieved throat. She gently let me down to the ground and sat back on to the bed.

"That'll probably do me for a couple hours." She sighed contentedly. She turned to me. "Where do we start looking?"

***

Pylos sparkled. It was a port city on the mediteranean that finally gave me a visual image to go along with the term "sun drenched" - white washed buildings, glimmering water, even the round cobblestones of the street - everything seemed to glow under the summer sun.

Samantha walked along side me, her oversized sunglasses preventing her from having to squint into the summer sun like I was. We followed a sloping cobblestone street down toward the waterfront.

We got stares - but not the stares we were used to. Apparently the muscle fad hadn't quite hit Greece yet. Men we passed stared openly at Samantha and some shouted comments at her - most we really didn't need to be able to translate to understand. Samantha, for her part wasn't helping. Her clothing was as always revealing and she seemed to take great pains to flex as many of her oversized muscles as possible with each step.

The few women we passed on the baking streets, however, were more accepting. Their stares I did recognize - a sudden shock when they saw me, followed by a jealous glance at Samantha and then a steely look of resolve. No doubt, the men of Pylos were going to have to get used to a little more muscle on their women than usual.

One woman snapped a picture of us with a polaroid, the man she was with snarled something unpleasent at us. I ignored it. The man wrapped his arm around the womans shoulder and pulled her roughly into an alley off the street we walked along. She twisted and snapped one more picture.

"I don't think I'm very popular here," Samantha murmured as we stopped under the shade of an awning. She casually ran a hand through her hair and flexed her arm. Her bicep swelled to its normal immense size. She was looking over my shoulder.

Across the street a young man was sitting in a doorway, also enjoying a respite from the sun. His eyes bulged as Samantha's muscles slid under her skin. He scowled, and looked down at the coblestones and spit as if a sudden horrible taste had filled his mouth.

"No, I can't say that you are. Historically fashion trends take about ten years to move from America to Europe," I said absently, the youth across the street already forgotten. I stared down at a hand drawn map, and tried to puzzle out where we might be.

"And you know this how?" Samantha asked.

"Spent some time with a fashion design girl," I replied trying to find real world correspondence to the landmarks scribbled on my little map.

"Spent some time with?" Samantha asked with a sly smile. She clearly wanted details.

"About 48 hours in an apartment. She had some nice friends," I answered.

"Nice friends..." Samantha chortled. "Probably the best night of their lives."

"You jealous?"

"Hell no, but I'm starting to get a little horny," she got on her tiptoes so her lips brushed my ear. "How about a quickie?"

"How about we follow this road down past the curve there?" I pointed and refolded the map into my pocket. I started to turn, but two solid hands gripped either side of my waist. I knew from experience I had no hope of getting free of the grip by fighting.

"Sam?" I asked, looking down at her exposed arms. They were obsenely bloated with familiar muscle.

Samantha gritted her teeth. I could see her struggle with herself. She wanted me so badly she was contemplating pulling me into one of the narrow alleys that splintered off from the main sloping road. Maybe, not even that, she looked like she might throw me to the street right now. If she wanted to I couldn't stop her - physically at least.

"Sam, hold on until tonight and I'll make it worth your while." I tried to keep my voice level, but it betrayed me and broke on the last syllable.

Sam smiled, somewhat tensely. "I have no doubt." She still didn't let go of me right away, but slowly, shakily pulled her arms back from my sides.

I twisted out of her grip when she did. I didn't realize it until that moment I had been holding every muscle tensed and how quick my breathing had become. I closed my eyes and relaxed, taking a deep breath.

"Sorry," Samantha wasn't looking at me, but down and away from me.

"It's alright," my voice sounded steadier already. I tried not to remember the night on the beach with Cynthia. How powerless I had felt when I thought she was going to drown me - or just break my bones one by one.

Samantha's touch on my cheek was gentle. "No, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to trap you like that, I just, don't know my own strength."

"It's considerable."

Samantha smiled at my half-hearted joke, glad to see my spirit returning - and color returning to my face no doubt. "I'm just used to - ahem - three square meals a day."

I caught her euphamism, "Three? More like five."

"Whatever," she shrugged, "but you were out all morning making little maps, I don't know how I'll make it!"

"You have my sympathy." I mocked.

Samantha rolled her eyes. "What I need is a cute little blonde."

I laughed. The moonlit New Jersey shore was a rapidly disappearing nightmare, the sunbaked Mediteranean made it impossible to hold in my mind. We walked down a little while longer. The street sloped into an open square, one side looking out into the sea.

"OK, I think," I scanned the illegible signs. "I think, that one." I pointed to one of the buildings.

Samantha nodded as I pointed. "What is it?"

I didn't actually feel like answering that question. We didn't go into the front entrance - which looked like some sort of curio store. Instead we went to the left side alley where stairs led down to an unmarked door.

Samantha followed me, pulling off her sunglasses as we entered the shadows. Her eyes were narrow with suspicion.

I opened the door. My eyes adjusted slowly to the dim interior. Along one wall was a bar where the only two patrons were gathered under the glow of a TV showing a soccer game. They watched impassionatly, occasionly taking swigs from the beer bottles. The bartender - a dark skinned man who was bald with a black bushy beard, looked at me suspiciously. His eyes grew wide as Samantha slid into the establishment behind me. He seemed even less happy to see her.

Samantha's eyes ignored the bar and immediately noticed the stage that ran along the opposite side of the establishment. On it a naked woman danced half-heartedly around a pole, her eyes staring off into space.

"You brought us to a strip club?!" Samantha whispered, bewildered. "Aren't we supposed to be looking for Myrna?"

"We are looking for Myrna," I whispered backed.

"What, do you think doctor came here to make a little cash on the side?" Samantha was incredulous.

"Um... actually I think she might have come here to spend money."

Samantha's eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch, looking around the establishment again. "Sounds like my kind of woman..."

The dancer hadn't seemed to notice us yet. I ignored the bartender's cold stare and walked over to the edge of the stage where she was parading in lazy cirlces around the pole.

"Hey! Do you speak English?" I asked breaking her out of her stupor.

She stopped, blinked and her eyes focused on me. She smiled greedily as she looked at me, and her hand inadvertantly touched her inner thigh. Her eyes widened as Samantha put a hand on my shoulder and smiled back up at her.

"English?" I asked again, louder, pulling her eyes back toward me.

"Americano?" She asked, pointing at me.

"Americano." I nodded and pointed a thumb at my chest. "Do you speak Engish?"

"Uh... a little," she ducked her head apologeticly. She bent her knees and squatted down. Her legs were spread in order to reveal the dark bushy hair around her crouch. Her olive skin and dark nipples were exotic, but her thin body and tiny breasts seemed so inadequate compared with the company I normally kept. She was swaying now more passionately, for having a customer - and one that she desperately wanted to please.

"I Calypso. You like?" She asked, batting the long eyebrows around her almond shaped eyes, tossing back her black curly eyes.

I ignored her come on. I pulled out a picture from my pocket. "Have you seen her? Her name is Myrna Derrida. Dr. Myrna Derrida."

Calypso's expression changed at once. She stood up and looked wide eyed across the room - a look of trepidation. Samantha and I followed her gaze to the dark scowl of the bartender.

He was walking up to us his face dark with fury. Behind us I heard Calypso retreat behind the stage curtain.

"You get out!" He was yelling and his face was red. "You scare customers." His rage was directed at Samantha. He jabbed his fingers angrily into the top of Samantha's meaty pecs. The hard jabs didn't even dent Samantha's muscles. He was tall, taller than me, and using his height to try to intimidate Samantha.

Samantha was getting angry now. As much as she seemed to be trying to bring it on herself, I could tell that the stares she had been recieving had started to wear on her. She was used to having men and women melt at the sight of her, not get wide eyed stares of shock and insults hurled at her back in a foreign language. When the bartender went to poke her a third time she grabbed his wrist.

He angrily tried to pull his hand away. Samantha didn't even seem to notice the fact. She just held his hand, and he began to look alarmed as he saw the pure size of her arm.

"I think your customers," she glanced over at the two men sitting at the bar. They were no longer drinking, and their precious soccer game was going on ignored behind them. The were instead staring at the confronation in the middle of the bar, "didn't even see me until you made a fuss."

She was smiling, but it was a smile I'd never seen before, her lips curled away from her teeth, like an animal showing off its fangs. "I think you owe me an apology."

"You get out of my bar, freak!" The bartender's bruised pride was making him rash, and with his free arm tried to pull Samantha's arm away from his.

I saw the tendons in her forearm jump into hard relief - like steel cables beneath her soft skin. The bartender's face went red again - but this time not from fear. Amazingly he didn't cry out from the pain - just stood staring down at Samantha as she applied enormous amounts of pressure on to his wrist. He grit his teeth and his eyes bulged, unwilling to give Samantha the satisfaction of making him scream in pain.

I'd never seen Samantha like this. Frankly, it scared me. I put a hand gently on the hard muscle of her shoulder. I could feel it tense and bulge under my hand.

"Sam?" I asked softly.

She let go of the bartender's wrist. He snatched it away, but even in the dim light I could see it had turned deep red - a precursor to a might bruise.

"I think we can let ourselves out," Samantha replied coldly.

She turned and was up the stairs before I caught up with her.

She started to walk away, her strong legs propelling her with such speed that I had to run to catch up. She walked back out into the square and ducked into another little alley that seemed to be everywhere.

"Sam!" I shouted as I followed sprinted in after her.

She whirled as she heard me, and with two strong arms pushed me roughly against the alley wall. I felt the heavy weight of her breasts pushing against my chest as she brought her lips roughly against mine.

She kissed me violently, all her pent up emotion bent into shoving her tongue down my throat. I felt like I couldn't breath. Finally she let me up for air, but I was still pinned to the wall.

"Eric, I've got to fuck you right now, or I don't think I'm going to be able to stop myself from going down and breaking every bone in the bastard's goddamn body." She was shaking, each breath ragged and uneven.

"Sam..." I didn't get to finish my sentence before her strong tongue forced its way back into my mouth.

Again I felt like I might pass out from lack of oxygen. Again she pulled her lips away before I did.

"Fuck me Eric! Fuck me before I put the man's head between my thighs and crush it like a grape. Fuck me before I make him beg me for mercy. I'll show him what a woman should be!"

"Sam! This isn't about you!" I yelled. Samantha ignored me.

"Ever since we got to the god forsaken place they've been staring at me. He was just the first one to say it to my face. I'm going to have him on his knees and if he still thinks he shouldn't be worshiping me, I'm going to kill him." She was breathing so heavy now that my chest was compressing with every intake of breath.

"Sam! He did that so we would stop talking to Calypso."

Samantha's eyebrows folded, the sudden realization cutting through her haze of rage.

"Because we were asking about Myrna..." Samantha gasped. She seemed to see me for the first time, pinned against the wall, struggling for breath.

"Oh my God!" Samantha's face drained off all color. "I'm sorry Eric..."

I couldn't keep my knees from buckling as the weight that had kept me upright was pulled away. I gasped to regain my breath and tried to not look hurt - or panicked.

"I'm so sorry," Samantha offered down her hand and pulled me effortlessly to my feet when I accepted. I could see that she was starting to get very upset, her voice shaky and her eyes watering.

She blinked before she could start crying. "I'm no better than Cynthia..."

I realized she needed consoling, and wrapped my arms around her head and pulled it gently into my shoulder. She instinctively wrapped her arms around me, but stiffened and let them fall away. It was if she was afraid she might hurt me.

I felt the warm breath against my shoulder slow as she regained control of her emotions.

"Sam, it's no big deal, you actually did great."

"Yeah, I'm great as a grade 'A' fuck up," she moaned.

"No, no," I tried to console her. I gently pushed on her shoulders until she took a step back and I could look into her red trimmed eyes. I dropped my voice to a whisper. "Now he thinks he tricked us with his little charade. He doesn't know we suspect he knows something."

Samantha sniffed. "Oh..." she seemed a little surprised and finally the tears that had been gathered in her eyes started to flow. She took me into a great big bear hug.

She started whispering in my ear. "Oh, Eric, you are too good." She pulled back and gave me a seductive look - or the best she could with tears on her cheeks and red rimmed eyes. "I'm going to make it up to you. I'm going to suck every little drop out of you tonight, I promise" she smiled, a tight wry smile, "I'll try to be extra careful to make sure you can still walk tomorrow."

She looked down and saw my dick pressing against the inside of my pants. "Why wait until tonight?" She asked.

"Sam." I didn't really want to stop her, but I had to.

"What?" She caught my tone immediately.

"We need to get back to the club."

"And get arrested?" Samantha protested. "I don't think I'll do you any good if that asshole has me carted off to jail."

"No, trust me."

Samantha bit her lip. "I do." She touched my cheek.

This time we didn't approach from the front, but from behind, through the narrow alleways that shadowed each of the wider streets. As we came around the last corner we saw Calypso wearing a long coat, tall heels and smoking a cigarette.

When she saw us she threw down her cigarette and ran to us as quickly as she could in her unwieldy heels. As she ran it became immediately obvious that the coat and heels were all that she was wearing. She wrapped her arms around me with a surprisingly tight hug.

"Oh, Americano! I was so scared Anieli would hurt you! I saw his face and I got so scared. I thought he might kill you!" She kissed me on the face as if I were a long lost lover and not someone she had just met today as a client.

Samantha cleared her throat, and Calypso apologetically untangled herself from me. She straightened her hair and shyly faced my now overly protective and hugely muscled lover.

"And I'm glad he didn't hurt you," Calypso didn't seem to be able to meet Samantha's gaze.

Samantha laughed. "You should be glad I didn't break his wrist. If he had done anything more that wouldn't have been the only thing I would have broken."

Calypso let her eyes sweep over Samantha's body and drink in Samantha's confident pose. Calypso's eyes widened as she stared at Samantha casually flex her arms. No doubt she believed her.

"Calypso, what do you know about Myrna?" I pulled out the photo again.

"She and I..." Calypso glanced back at the door behind her, the back door to the Anieli's strip club. "I can't talk here. Please let's go to my apartment."

Samantha grabbed Calypso's wrist. "Why? What's going on?"

Calypso looked at Samantha's hand around her wrist with wide eyes. Her furtive glances travelled between Samantha and the door, her face becoming more and more a mask of desperation and terror.

"They'll kill you!" Calypso hoarsely whispered. "Please let me go." She seemed on the verge of tears.

"Who?" Samantha let Calypso's wrist slip out of her hand.

Calypso's mouth just shook in mute horror.

[Vandar_savage]

Aphrodite's Blessing Chapter 6: Locals
Submitted by dr_muscles on March 29, 2010 - 4:03pm
Calypso was a wreck by the time we got to her place. Samantha had taken it upon herself to help calm her down, and before we knew it the night had spiraled out of control.

I reclined on the couch, my flaccid member well worked over. Samantha had been serious about her promise to suck me dry. She had already given me three blowjobs, and my balls ached from her fevered attempts to pump yet another load out of me and down her eager throat.

Calypso had watched with wide eyed fascination as Samantha worked for my cum. Samantha had pulled back and I had spilled my seed all over her chin and chest. Calypso had watched with a dazed expression as Samantha gathered up some on her finger and beckoned the naked Calypso over.

It was another effect of the "Recompense of Paris" that I didn't fully understand. The little taste of my juices that Calypso had nervously licked off Samantha's waiting finger had an immediate effect. Calypso gasped and her eyes rolled back in her head, her hands moving down to her glistening pussy.

When she had recovered from her strange and sudden orgasm, she went to work cleaning the remaining traces off Samantha eagerly. Samantha had enjoyed the little Greek stripper sucking my cum off her breasts.

It had been a long night.

Calypso now lay with her back on the carpet in front of me. Samantha had pushed most of the furniture to the walls, leaving a nice open area on the ground. Calypso gasped and twisted, her skin coated with a gleaming layer of perspiration and her nipples stiff on her tiny breasts. Her thin arms were curled, pressed with all their might against Samantha's head but it was unclear what Calypso was trying to accomplish. What was clear was that it had no effect.

Samantha's head was buried in between Calypso legs, her hands grabbing the curves of Calypso's ass. She was humming loudly and Calypso thrashed wildly with pleasure. She tried to buck her hips, but Samantha held them too securely, her arm muscles easily overwhelming Calypso's full body spasms.

Calypso was uttering a non-stop stream of words in Greek as Samantha relentlessly attacked the most sensitive parts of Calypso's anatomy with her tongue. Calypso gasped again and threw her head backward. Samantha's tongue was almost certainly stronger than any Calypso may have experienced and Samantha was an artist when using it, probing the most intimate spots with tenacity and accuracy.

Calypso's eyes bulged, momentarily bringing her to silence. She folded up - as much as she was able with Samantha completing immobilizing her bottom half. She looked down at Samantha with wide wild eyes. She was practically clawing at the back of Samantha's head unable to hold herself up in this sitting position.

Samantha calmly jerked Calypso's ass off the floor, and Calypso spilled back out onto the carpet twitching. She still mumbled in her Greek, but now it was slurred and quiet. Samantha continued to hum, drawing erratic twitches out of Calypso's rag doll body.

Calypso's legs were awkwardly splayed out, and she still wore the same black heels from earlier. Samantha hadn't given her any time to change.

"No, no," Calypso was pleading not opening her eyes, her head twisting back and forth across the carpet.

Samantha just took that as a excuse to tighten her grip. Calypso swallowed convulsively and I could see her eyes roll under her eyelids. She was not going to be concious much longer at this rate. Not many women had the stamina Samantha possessed in her well sculpted muscles.

"No, no, I must show Americano... Myrna..." She tried to point, but her arm didn't seem to be following commands, it spasmed back and grabbed Samantha's hair again.

"Sam..." I said softly, hoping to break Samantha gently out of her trance. She looked up, a proud smile splitting her face ear to ear.

"Do you need some more attention now?" Samantha asked, looking over at me hungrily.

"Sam, remember why we're here."

Samantha blinked, but her eyes didn't lose their blissful distracted look.

"Someone might want to kill us?" I supplied helpfully.

Samantha's grin twisted into a grimace.

"Myrna?" I tried again.

Samantha's look seemed to indicate she seemed to preferred to be reminded of the death threats. "Myrna, Myrna, Myrna..." Samantha mumbled, she stood up still holding onto Calypso ankle. The woman's body didn't react at all, just limply shifted as Samantha experimentally pulled on her leg.

"Hey, Calypso." Samantha emphasized her words with a shake of Calypso's leg.

Calypso's eyes flittered open, unfocused. She sigh contentedly, as if we'd woken her up from a pleasent dream.

"Myrna?" The groggy Mediterranean beauty asked, her eyes still not seeing us.

I felt a little rush of surprise. Just how did Calypso know Myrna? I suddenly had a feeling they were more than just casually aquainted.

Samantha just grit her teeth. "No."

Calypso blinked and this time a bare hint of lucidity shone in their dark depths. "Americanos?"

Samantha just nodded. Calypso nodded too, her eyes closing.

"Hey!" Samantha shook Calypso's leg again.

Calypso moved her mouth sleepily, a warm glow of contentment spread across her exotic features.

"Who's might want to kill us?" I asked.

That finally brought Calypso's slugish eyes into some sort of focus. She closed them and her forehead creased in concentration. "Anieli's friends. Bad man. Bad men."

"The mysoginistic bartender?" Samantha sounded incredulous. She turned to me. "He must REALLY not like muscles on women."

Calypso shook her head sleepily. "No... he says... humanity not supposed to have power of gods."

I felt evey muscle in my body tense, and my stomach roiled as if I'd just got punched in the gut.

Samantha didn't notice my reaction. She just stared down at the oversexed stripper with a puzzled look on her face. "Right... because that aphorism just explains everything... why would anyone want to kill us?"

"Myrna..." Calypso pointed to a end table beside the couch behind us. I slowly felt my muscles relax enough to turn. On it was a purse. When I turned back, Calypso even breathing was the only indication that she was even alive.

"Calypso!" Samantha tried shaking the woman's leg. No luck. "Calypso. Earth to Calypso." She was out cold. She turned to me with a rueful expression. "Seems like I was too good."

"Well at least she's not panicking anymore," I tried to keep the panic I felt out of my voice. I was glad when it came out as a flat monotone.

Samantha mistook my numbness for an attempt at humor. She laughed.

Sam regarded the purse that Calypso had gestured toward. I looked at it and finally opened it.

"Let me," Samantha said, dropping the unconcious Calypso's leg to the floor, "You don't know what to look for in a woman's purse."

I handed the leather bag over.

Samantha began rooting through. "Hmm... personal "hygene"... a wallet... yep this is definitely Myrna's." She nodded as if confinrming her own suspicion. She flipped open the wallet for me to see. An American license with Myrna's picture was in the very center. Samantha regarded the sleeping Calypso with an unreadable expression. I felt nothing but numb shock.

"OK... here we go," Samantha carefully uncrumpled a piece of paper. "It's an advertisement," she gave a crooked grin, "in Greek of course." She flipped it over to me. There was a drawing of a speedboat and in the distance an island with a lone palm tree. "I'm guessing she hired a boat."

"Tomorrow we can start asking around at the port." I suggested, my mind somehow still processing the words and images around me.

Samantha nodded. She grimaced again. She pulled out a small leather bound book.

"What's that?"

"Look's like a notebook," Samantha carefully opened it, trying to keep her moist fingers from staining the pages.

"Diary, or maybe a research journal," she corrected as she flipped through the pages. She smiled wryly. "Also in Greek."

I couldn't help but groan. Here we were, so close, but our translator was nearly comatose on the floor. Samantha looked from the journal to Calypso to me.

"Tomorrow," Samantha said finally. "I think we need to get a shower."

***

I'll be honest. Not much compares to a shower with a beautiful woman lathering you up.

Samantha was applying soap to me as creatively as she could. Her sud covered ass travelled up and down my legs, the diamond hard slabs leaving streaks of soap on my wet skin. She used her breasts, of course. Normally I would have enjoyed feeling the hard nipples rub against my skin. It was a measure of how distraught I was that I couldn't.

Nothing made sense.

How did Anieli know about the "Recompense of Paris?" It was the only explanation for what Calypso had said: "humanity not supposed to have the power of the gods."

Myrna knew, maybe she had said something? It seemed possible. But at the same time why had she disappeared?

Had "Anieli's friends" killed her? Was that what had scared Calypso? Was that the reason she had been so scared for us? What about Calypso? She had been with Myrna - or at the very least had her purse. She worked for Anieli. Could we trust her? What did Anieli want? The thoughts swirled around in my head.

My hand inadvertantly went for the ring pressed against my chest - the one Myrna had given me that night.

It seemed so unfair. Why did she keep getting hurt because of some stupid mythical blessing? She was hurt - maybe even de - my mind refused to complete the thought - she was missing - and here I was with Samantha's unbelievable physique pressed up against me.

Why had Myrna gotten involved again? What did Anieli have to gain by hurting her? Maybe to lure me? That seemed unlikely. For all Myrna knew I had never given her a second thought. I had gone on, found "better" women. How could Anieli have possibly known that she was the only woman I would have come halfway around the world for? The woman I had hurt.

"Fuck." I said it quietly, a word filled with bitter self loathing.

Samantha stopped her gyrating, the erotic dance that set her abs undulating to show off their incredible definition. She couldn't help but notice my distant mood, and the fact that try as she might I would not become arroused again.

"What?" She was getting frustrated now. The thought of being trapped in such an enclosed space with an angry women with Samantha's strength was, as usual, a turn on - but one laced with a giddy sense of fear. I needed to concentrate, to try and think this through. And I was not going to be able to concentrate while Samantha was practically in heat.

I roughly slid my hand down Samantha's stomach. My hand touched the inside of her thigh - it was slick, not just with water, but with Myrna's juices. She gasped as I roughly pushed my fingers into her wet and waiting pussy. It was like I had punched her. She threw back her head and it collided against the slick bathroom tile. Her eyes went wide and as they turned toward the ceiling, her mouth hung open in a soundless 'o.' She was clawing at the tile for purchase, something to steady herself against. When she could find nothing on the slick smooth surface she balled her fist and slammed it back into the wall. I heard the tile crunch and give way.

The orgasm that was building in her was going to be big. She slid down the wall as her knees no longer able to support her. The spasming internal muscles locked down on my hand and I was pulled roughly down on top of her. It was a strange impact - her breasts were so soft - yet her muscles like warm marble.

She arched her back as if electricity was being shot through her. My weight on top of her didn't even seem to slow her down. The water streamed down on us, and I slid across her body as she bucked again. Experimentally I tried to pull my hand back, but Samantha's inner muscles contracted and her huge legs snapped together. I tugged harder to extricate myself, but that just brought another spasm of pleasure.

Samantha spoke through gritted teeth, water raining down on her face. "I'm... not... letting... go..." She had to blink as the water splattered on her face, but her eyes showed determination.

I pulled harder, my hand disappearing in the slick wet muscles between her legs. That just caused another spasm that sent me slamming against the side of the tub. Convinced there was just one way to get my hand out, I pushed deeper. Samantha's legs relaxed and I could feel blood being let back into my poor abused hand.

Samantha's back arched one last time and then she squeezed closed her eyes and yelled. I felt a flood of warmth across my hand and she went limp. My hand slid free. I experimentally wiggled all my fingers. My hand ached but seemed undamaged.

"Oh..." Samantha's voice was unsteady. She grabbed the edge of the tub, and pulled herself roughly under the curtain. I heard her spill out on to the tile floor of the bathroom. I shut off the water and pulled open the curtain.

She passed out soaking wet on the bathroom floor.

***

I woke up on the floor. I sleepily groaned and gradually became aware of my surroundings.

"She's so tiny," Samantha exclaimed. I looked over. Samantha was cradling Calypso in her arms. Calypso was staring at wonder at the arm that was supporting her upper back without any noticable effort. She touched it, spread her fingers across its width.

"You are so strong," Calypso spoke in an awed whisper. Neither had put on clothes yet.

"Pfft- you don't have to be strong to carry you." Samantha was grinning when she saw me awake. "Oh Eric, she's so cute, can't we keep her?" She looked back at Calypso down in her arms.

Samantha readjusted her grip so that one arm rested under Calypso's butt. Calypso let out a surprised yelp as Samantha's other arm fell away.

"See?" Samantha said, "I warm up with weights that weigh more than you do."

Calypso laughed nervously, as she looked down at Samantha's body as if for the first time. Samantha readjusted her grip again and with another yelp of protest Calypso was pushed up into the air like the world's sexiest free weight.

"Stop squirming," Samantha teased holding the now terrified woman up near the ceiling. She slowly lowered her down to where she had started, cradled up against Samantha's generous breasts one arm under her knees, the other supporting her upper back.

Calypso's face was a mask of admiration and awe as she looked up at Samantha.

I coughed, feeling almost impolite. Samantha looked up at me with a smile of delight. I could tell she was quite smitten with Calypso.

"Samantha and I are going to see if Myrna rented a boat." I said.

Calypso pouted, but she didn't look surprised.

"I've told her we were going to have to spend more time looking around." Samantha said.

"What about the journal?" I asked, squinting as I looked around the unfamiliar apartment. It looked different in day light.

Samantha pursed her lips. "Apparently it's notes - passages I think."

"You think?" My mind was groggy. I tried to quell the dark fears I had felt last night as I looked at Calypso. The whole line of thought from yesterday seemed so unreal. Someone trying to kill us? Calypso looked too relaxed in Samantha's arms. I must have been dreaming.

But Myrna was still missing.

"According to my cute little translator here," she smiled down at the blushing Calypso in her arms, "most of it are passages in ancient greek."

"Ancient greek," I repeated.

"Totally different language than modern greek," Samantha answered my implicit question. In her arms Calypso nodded.

"Anieli knows it," Calypso nose wrinkled distastefully at the name.

"What is with that guy, anyway?" Samantha asked. "I want him to just try and hurt us." Samantha flexed her arms.

"Please," Calypso seemed distraught, "stay here, I'll keep you safe."

Samantha looked down at the petite exotic beauty in her arms. "You'll keep me safe?"

Calypso bit her lip.

"I need to find Myrna," I interrupted, "do you think Anieli had something to do with her disappearing."

Calypso started chewing on her lip, her eyes flickering uncertainly between Samantha and me.

"I don't know," Calypso said finally, her eyes downcast. "He's a bad man, and he doesn't like people asking about Myrna. He hit me when I asked where she had gone. I was afraid he would hurt you too."

The look on Samantha's face was indignation and rage. "That son of a bitch. I'm going to kill HIM." Samantha's voice was quiet.

"No!" Calypso squirmed out of Samantha's grip and wrapped her arms around Samantha's swolled bicep as if to physically stop her. "You go find the captain, I know his name, you go find him, please just don't go back to Anieli."

***

I squinted out into the bright bay. The sun reflected back off the tiny waves crests was blinding.

"Guess what?"

I turned and saw Samantha strutting down the street toward me.

"What?"

"Turns out one of the captains here likes American women." By "American" I had no doubt Samantha meant women who could bench press at least two hundred pounds. "Finally, a man with decent tastes! I was beginning to think all Greek men's were abusive mysoginists."

"And...?" She had been complaining nonstop about Anieli since Calypso had convinced us to come down and look for the captain who had taken Myrna out to the islands.

"Well, he knew the captain that took Myrna out."

"Nice!" Samantha pantomimed tossing her hair back, and put her chin up proudly. "Where is he?" I realized Samantha's phrasing. "What do you mean 'knew'?"

"Ahh..." Samantha brought her hands together apologeticly. "Turns out he died of a heart attack last week."

I squinted and looked back into the sea. "Not at all suspicious." That squelched my enthusiasm immediately.

Samantha shrugged. "Seemed natural enough. They found his boat drifting just off the coast. Bad news is the old guy wasn't too careful about filling out travel logs."

I watched Samantha from the corner of my eye. She was still smiling.

"However, my captain is willing to take me and my friend," she threw her heavy arm across my shoulder, "out to a couple of islands that seem likely, see if we can't track down some clues." She smiled. "He even gave me a discount."

"He's going to be sorely disappointing when he finds out 'your friend' is a guy, isn't he?"

Samantha shrugged. "I might have implied otherwise."

Toma, a young sun-baked Greek youth, was waiting for us next to his speed boat. As expected his expression soured immediately when he saw me following Samantha down the pier.

He glumly and wordlessly untied the boat and we set out over smooth seas, the winding whipping around us, the tiny speed boat cut through the waves.

Toma's mood brightened significantly when Samantha decided that the front of the boat was a perfect place to get rid of some unwanted tan lines. Toma's eyes seemed to bulge out of his skull when Samantha untied her top and her heavy breasts slipped free. The poor kid almost passed out when she shimmied her bikini bottoms down her rock hard thighs and kicked them off.

Toma was whistling happily by noon. It was then that the third island of the day showed up on the horizon.

"Toma has a good feeling about this one," Toma said, making a mild course correction. "I think American Doctor was definitely here. Good feeling."

"Are you're 'good feelings' about the island?" Samantha sat up on the prow of the boat, showing off her body. "Or about your company?"

"Pretty lady is good luck," Toma smiled, his young face brightening as Samantha turned to face him.

"'Good luck.'" Samantha pursed her lips. "The first two 'islands' were barely even sandbars."

"Toma have good feeling about this one." Toma was having trouble focusing out on the horizon instead of Samantha's breasts.

Samantha grabbed the top of the windshield and leapt nimbly back to where I was. She quickly pulled on her bikini, and then over that a wrap. It wasn't until she was done that Toma turned back to the sea. He frowned and veered back toward the island.

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're going to get us lost at sea."

Samantha smiled - but didn't look apologetic. "I like the spotlight." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Looks like this island might provide some privacy. If you are getting jealous I can think of some tropical activities for us to do together..."

I looked out at the island. It jutted out of the sea, white rock topped with green. At the top was something else I couldn't quite make out.

Toma was looking through a pair of binoculars. "There's a little pier." He informed us.

"Can I see?" I asked. Samantha sighed, as I reached past her to take the binoculars from Toma.

I saw the pier, it was just big enough for a speed boat like the one we were in. I scanned upward to the top of the island. White columns jutted unevenly up and stopping suddenly. Right next to them was a wooden tower - like an observation post.

I passed the binoculars over to Samantha. She took the wordlessly, clearly unhappy that my mind seemed more focused on finding out what had happened to Myrna. She sighed and set her sights on the island's top.

"Ruins?" She seemed surprised. She stood up to get a better look, steadying herself by putting a hand on my seat. "Clearly there's been some work done there."

"Like a dig site." I voiced my suspicions. Samantha turned to me and nodded. Clearly she was starting to get distracted by the mystery, rather than her raging hormones.

"Maybe," she brought the binoculars to her face again. "Though, that looks like a..."

"A lookout post." I completed for her. She brought the binoculars down again. She seemed to be biting her lip and thinking. "Myrna had a permit to dig. But maybe the people here didn't..."

Toma pulled us up to the island in silence. Samantha's face had grown serious, a look that I had no doubt mirrored my own. As we pulled closer we saw a sign. The top was in Greek, but beneath that it read: "Private! No trespassing!"

Toma deftly turned the boat along side the little wooden dock, cut the engines and jumped across to secure us to the dock.

"NO! NO! NO!" We heard the man before we saw him. He was a young gaunt man, maybe Toma's age. His face was red. He started shouting at Toma in Greek.

Toma spread his arms wide apologetically, responding with his own unintelligible Greek.

The other man stood at the end of the dock where a path cut into the fauna and seemed to slope up the white rock. He seemed to see us for the first time. At least he seemed to notice Samantha as she stepped from the boat behind Toma. The strange man's eyes bulged in disbelief.

"No! No more Americans," he said in roughly accented English, "can't you read the sign!"

I hopped out in front of Samantha. "What do you mean 'no more Americans'?"

The man face contorted with anger. "I said go! This is private! No more Americans!"

"Did Myrna come here?" I felt my own anger rising in me. I felt my feet pulling me toward the screaming man. "What do you know about her. Dr. Myrna Derrida! I'm looking for her."

"You go!" He was gesturing wildly toward me now. I took another step, and behind me Samantha did the same.

The young man's eyes went wide as he looked past me toward Samantha. Then things happened quickly. He must have had the pistol tucked into the back of his pants because one minutes he was waving his empty hands at us, the next a gleaming silver pistol.

"You go!"

Behind me I heard Samantha shriek, and behind her Toma spit out a few choice Greek words. The barrel was pointed at me, shaking in the young man's uncertain grip. I held up trembling hands in surrender.

"You go! This is Anieli's island!" His barrel slid away from me and toward Samantha. "You go, you and your muscle bitch!"

Samantha gasped behind me, but his words seemed distant, drowned out by my heart which had taken up residence in my throat. I couldn't see anything other than the sun glinting off the end of the gun. The brightness off it seemed to shine right into my brain, piercing right into my skull.

I looked back. Toma had put himself between the gun and Samantha. Samantha looked like a deer in headlights, her knees bent into a crouch, her eyes wide with fear. She looked she wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. I suddenly felt very calm, as if my mind had floated away and was watching the scene dispassionately. I could see the tension building in Sam's muscles ready to uncoil. I saw the frayed nerves of our gunman, his shaking hands. Sam was going to bolt suddenly and he was going to shoot.

"Toma," I said my voice strained with the effort of sounding calm. "Why don't you get Sam back onto the boat."

Toma nodded. He put an arm on Sam shoulder. She looked up at him surprised, as if she had never seen him before.

I turned back toward the gunman and slowly and delibrately put myself between the end of his gun and Samantha.

"We're leaving."

The man just nodded, his eyes wild and wide. "You go!"

Everything was happening oddly - like time had fractured and was trying to put itself back together. My feet moved slowly - as if the air had turned to thick liquid, but in the same second I was back on the boat. The man was standing at the end of the dock and then he was tiny, the whole island shrinking in the distance.

I turned, Samantha was breathing rapidly into cupped hands.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

She grabbed me into a crushing hug. "Eric!"

I tried to console her, but my hands were shaking too much - they didn't seem to be taking commands from my brain. Instead I just let Samantha push her head against my chest. I took me a few minutes to realize that the constant drumming I heard was my heart, pumping frantically in my chest.

Samantha pulled away. Her eyes were red. "I'm sorry. I'm a mess." She sniffed and rubbed her face. "I should have done something, anything other than stand there like an idiot."

I touched Samantha's cheek. "Hey nobody expects you to turn into a superhero when someone pulls out a gun. I don't care how big your muscles are."

Samantha smiled wanely. "Just, I felt so good after... after the whole Cynthia thing. I felt so powerful. Like I could protect you from anything. One little runt with a gun..." She shook her head and lowered it.

Toma turned my attention from Samantha. "He is still watching us." Toma handed me the binoculars and nodded with his head toward the island receding behind us.

I focused on the wooden watch tower. On top the man was watching me through his own binoculars. Slung over his shoulder was a strap from which dangled an AK-47. He was talking into a phone.

I dropped the binoculars. He disappeared, lost against the perfect blue of the Mediterranean sky.



And that's all there is so far.  Karma is appreciated.