0 comments/  47426 views/  0 favorites

Funeral

By: intriguess



I was sort of with this guy but we hadn't gone farther than kissing and petting. I was beginning to get frustrated especially since his kisses and touching really turned me on. When I found out in a round about way that he had never been with a woman. This gave me the patience to wait. Well about the time that I was building to initiate myself as I wasn't sleeping well because I was too sexually keyed up, his father died. 

The funeral was just far enough away that it'd take most of day to drive there and that we'd stay at hotel for a few days as his mother would be having assorted other relatives at her home to comfort her. We'd be staying in same room, a lot of those frustrating nights had been spent curled up in his arms. I packed for both of us as he was too emotional to deal with packing. I ended up driving and it was late when we finally got to hotel. I unpacked as he took shower. My sex drive had taken dip so far but I hadn't expected to see him with a towel slung around his hips his dark curly hair a playful mess. 

I simply tossed him his pj's and yawned. I was tired I hadn't slept well all week and hoped I might finally get some on this trip. Course now my mind was entirely on that darn towel and what it was covering. I tossed and turned all night while he slept fairly peacefully next to me. Seeing him sleep, his soft lips relaxed in slumber. I got up early next morning and took very cold shower. 

Then I slipped on my black garters and bra. As I looked in mirror I almost wished he would walk in and I dismissed the thought. We had a funeral to attend. I pulled on black silk stockings and camisole. I concentrated on nonsexy thoughts as I finished dressing. I left bathroom somewhat calmer than I entered. He was yawning and stretching his hair tousled sexily. I took a deep breath and let him have bathroom. Something about morning stubble on a guy drives me wild. 

When he came out in those charcoal slacks, I just about tossed him on bed and ripped his clothes off. I told myself not now, and my body was ignoring it. We went to funeral it was gray dismal day. It was raining as the coffin was interred. We finally got back to hotel and I mentioned that we really should get out of the wet clothes. He pulled my jacket off slowly and seemed to be in slow motion as he undid the buttons on my silky gray blouse. I shivered as he slide my shirt off. Hearing his intake of breath as he saw my silky black camisole. I lifted my arms as he slowly pulled it over my head. Another gasp as my black lacy bra barely cupped my breasts. I just realized he had never seen them he had always touched them under my shirt or pj's or whatever. I barely tugged his tied free before his lips descended on my flesh. His warm lips kissing and licking my warm flesh. Somewhere in back of my mind I realized he was highly emotionally aroused and was trying to deal with his grief. 

But that thought was buried in sensations of his lips upon my skin as he managed to get my bra off. I undid my skirt and kicked off my shoes and he picked me up and placed me on bed. I undid my hair letting it cascade down my shoulders. I managed to partially undo his shirt before his lips wandered to my dark rosy aching nipples. I couldn't do much more than moan. His lips finally descended, and let out a soft moan of approval that I wasn't wearing panties. I could feel my pussy opening and getting wetter as his fingers parted outer lips. I didn't want to break his concentration so I just let him explore my pussy. I was somewhat surprised he knew what he was doing. Or that he even wanted to suck me to orgasm. And it was an incredible orgasm, but it seemed to snap him back to reality. He licked me lightly just enough to clean and keep me aroused. 

He kissed me and finally asked if I had any protection. I blushed I had never dreamt of this actually happening. Yet I was on pill, so I just had to get him to admit he was virgin and we'd be fine. I asked if he was clean, he actually blushed. I really adore a guy who blushes. He stammered that this was his first time. Then he gulped and pulled away. He was still wearing his pants and I cursed myself for asking. I slipped up behind him and kissed his neck and whispered that I was on pill. My hands slid down to undo his pants. Meeting no resistance I was reassured as pants slide to floor his plain flannel boxers, a nice counter point to the dress pants. 

Now I took the lead and slowly guided him to bed pushing him down onto it. I tugged pants off and removed boxers taking in the sight of him fully hard for me. He wasn't biggest or smallest I'd seen, but he had nice thick cock with a bulging red tip and the most satisfying curve that I've ever had luck of feeling. I took it slow, we caressed and kissed until he relaxed again. Then I kneeled over his hips locking his eyes to mine as I slowly descended upon his cock. The expression on his face was priceless. I enjoyed riding his cock feeling him thrust inside me. Incredible sensations as he just lay back and enjoy it, cupping my breasts only when I placed his hand upon them. My own hands gripping his chest. I knew I wasn't going to cum again soon but his orgasm overwhelmed him. He almost apologized for it until he felt that I wasn't stopping that I kept riding slower but just as deep. He was young enough that he remained hard and I knew he was shocked when he felt me cumming. His moans were louder when I came then during his own orgasm. 

I slept like a baby that night curled up warm fulfilled and naked next to him. I'm glad we didn't have to see his family the next morning because I glowed and he had one of those silly grins on his face. The next morning was more fun and relaxed as we shared a warm shower, just delighting in touching each other's bare skin. It was just fascinating and amazing as he kneeled to wash my pussy and ending up licking and sucking again. I softly encouraged him to use his fingers. He had such wonder and gentle in his actions. It drove me wild into one of the most incredible orgasms I've ever had. 

And when he finally shyly admitted that he'd like to try a different position, I agreed. We toweled each other off, then he placed me up on bathroom counter. I was surprised as he took time to devour me again. Saying he wanted to go back for seconds. I was just about to cum when he stood parted my legs further and slowly pressed against me. He seemed hesitant so I guided his hard cock into me as I was very much in need of him. My fingers staying there as he slowly twisted in. I gasped as I came. I was in sexual overload. My entire body tingling and alert and sensitive. Every little movement caused ripples of electricity through me. This time he lasted longer and I actually came with him lips locked in the most intimate moment I've known.

Funeral at the Hunting Lodge



Black suit, the black so deep you think you're in a Hi-Fi movie theater; makeup and hair so perfect, you know everyone spent all morning in the bathroom; only whispers beneath the sound of utensils, you know it's all about the young man whose portrait sits on the chair. The eye tries to escape the heavy, dark atmosphere. It crawls along the wall with its exposed river rocks knee high and mahogany wood paneling above. Only a short glance at the ceiling makes the eye dart back down. The ceiling is low, held by heavy beams that evoke the oppressive feeling of imminent collapse. A small window with cross beams opens the view onto the lawn around the hunting lodge and the dry forest beyond, where scrawny deer are bloodied by men drinking Coors light.

A young woman sat upright, her back facing the big round table for eight. Ivory-white Revlon foundation covered her entire face. The ceiling lights reflected off her high gloss Maybelline Red Revolution lipstick. The dark mascara and meticulously groomed eyebrows made her blue eyes radiate brilliance. A black mesh veil cut thin, black, diamond-patterned lines across her face, hanging down from the little black Robin Hood-inspired hat. The look of the twenty-four year old was so dramatic that the men thought it as perfect as an actress for a high def close up porn and the women thought it as perfect as a princess from a fairy tale.

Four marines filed into a line in front her. The skinny, white leather straps, the golden buttons, the little pockets in the vest, honorary ribbons, and of course the needle-spikey saber at the side. They faced straight ahead. Their eyes were fixed on a distant point, like a port on the other side of the ocean. There was a little terror in their gaze, like it had been drilled into them. Their faces were so clean and smooth like boys taken from playing around the creek in trunks and making dirty jokes followed by lots of snickering. One stepped forward to present a ceremonially folded American flag. A white cotton-gloved hand was placed beneath and another positioned on top was positioned with the precision of a laser guided bomb. The young woman grabbed the flag. Her drunk hand missed the first time and the second time smashed the thing on the table next to her on the pile of envelopes and photos.

Next up was aunt Mathilda. Her fat heels overflowed the black slip on black flats. She had had to convert a tent into a dress to fit her fat belly and hips into it. The skin underneath her eyes was droopy from age and fat, as well as living her whole life for gossip. Her brunette hair had the curls of yesteryear.

"Oh child, it is such a horrible thing that William passed. At least he died fighting for our country."

"No, he died in a car accident."

"If I can get my hand on that reckless other driver, I'll strangle him myself!"

"There was no other driver. He was falling-drunk and drove into a bridge support."

"I'm sorry, Ivy. But you are so pretty. You'll find a new husband in no time."

Flap, Ivy's black gloved right slapped across aunt Mathilda's face. Uncle Benjamin's mouth dropped open and a broccoli crown rolled down his shirt and landed somewhere between his thighs. "How dare you," Ivy's voice screeched through the hunting lodge like a firework rocket whistles on takeoff.

Ivy surged up onto her black Dolce & Gabbana high heels. Her bare legs showed below the Skaist Taylor tight, black, mid-thigh dress. Only a young person would show that much skin at a funeral. Daisy, Ivy's best friend, rose from her table, pulling on the tablecloth that a young lad swiftly grabbed to hold the plates on top of the table. The two ladies stormed out leaving utter silence in their wake.

Outside was a porch with a rustic untreated, wooden railing. The wood was so weathered that it had been bleached and roughened. Ivy squatted down, hugging her legs to her chest, and started bawling. Her lungs were shaking, emotion flooding out of her. She was a little, black bundle on the stilts of her high heels. Daisy, severely constrained by her tight dress and super high heels, side hugged Ivy from behind, slowly patting on her back. "I'm here. Just let it all out."

A young lad peeled away from one of the circles of people talking in front of the lodge and smoking. He was dressed in a black jeans, actually rather gray from the many machine wash cycles, a dark blue Gap shirt, and his nicest sneakers. "Hey, William and I went hunting a couple of times. I wanted to give my condolences before the game is starting. Notre Dame..."

"Not now," hissed Daisy. Her shaking raised finger was an inch from his eye. Her eyes were shooting fire and devastation out of murderous, protective rage. She had swiveled around in a second.

The young lad walked down the steps of the porch backwards. With terror in his pitch black eyes and ghostly white face, his reticular activation system had narrowed onto Daisy, as if a white shark had jumped at him out of the blue sky.

Mies was standing in the door. He had followed them out to see what had happened. Mies was in the inner circle of William's friends. He had a blond crew cut that made his chiseled face stand out. His strong chest made any shirt and suit look good. He was a contractor. He worked all day with his hands. And his body was buff from carrying wooden beams around and lifting heavy bricks. He stood there, easy as ever, centered as ever, and warm as ever like a cuddly, yet very sexy, teddy bear.

"Mies, watch her. I'm getting the car keys. I'm getting her out of here," said Daisy.

"No problem," said Mies. With a luxurious black Armani bow tie perfectly tied and a bottle of champagne held by the neck, he was the perfect gentleman both in the good boy and bad boy sense.

With Daisy gone, Mies and Ivy were in their own little bubble. The other guests had given them a few yards of distance. Ivy straightened. They looked at each other for a while. The dried out, wilted fall grass around them felt a little more peaceful. The deer heads and wood carvings on the façade of the hunting lodge felt a little more dignified. The worn surfaces reminded them how the lodge had been there for decades, lasting through time, and it would still be here tomorrow, and so would they.

"Is there any private place in this lodge?" asked Ivy.

Mies took her pale, slender hand in his strong, manly hand and led her inside and up the creaky stairs. "This is a strictly men-only club. They made a huge exception for William to close down for a day, and let mixed people in. With everyone in black formal wear, I doubt anyone went inside the steam room. It's probably turned off today to save energy."

He pushed the locker door open. Benches and tall locker doors filled the room. A neat stack of towels was at the end of each bench. White lined baskets were neatly emptied of used towels. A big screen TV was still on with a newscaster blabbing idly to an audience of no one. Mies' hands gripped the big steam room handle and pushed the milky glass door open.

The air was still warm and moist. Nobody would find them here. Mies sat down on a stone block. He put his baby, the champagne bottle, carefully next to him. He untied his bow and let it hang over the back of his neck. He opened the two top buttons of his shirt. He relaxed his head back against the tiles and let his legs sprawl open.

Ivy walked past him, grabbed the champagne bottle by its neck, leaned against the wet wall and let herself glide down to the floor. She kicked off her heels. Her feet were freshly pedicured. Mies' eyes followed up her slender, athletic body with a smitten smile. She popped off the champagne cap. The bubbly sprouted over the bottle, her fist, the floor, and finally her dress, and she lifted the bottle to her lips and drank. The golden champagne foam ran down her mouth.

"Fuck it," she said, when she handed the bottle to Mies. Her eyes rolled wildly without a care, now that she was away from the audience. Her décolleté was glistening from a combination of the steam room moisture precipitating, her sweat forming from the heat, and champagne runoff still frothing. Mies had taken of his suit jacket. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. The rolled up fabric at his elbow reminded her of a pirate or at least a Caribbean vacation. He was a hunk to look at with his strong body and easy, carefree blue eyes looking ahead. She stared at him as if she were beaming a hole into him with laser eyes.

"What I miss the most is a big hard cock." Her eyes exhibited her drunken state. The rawness of her thoughts bubbling out uncensored. "We used to fuck every freaking day. Mm, I can taste his salty, sweaty skin on my lips just thinking about it. He ravaged me every day. The withdrawal from that is so horrible, like getting off H at the end of summer 2011. And I can't talk about it with any of those people. What would aunt Mathilda think, if I admitted that I'm so depraved that I'd sell my soul for a thick, hard cock?"

"Lady blue balls," uttered Mies. He said every word slowly with a deep voice, letting it sensually roll over his larynx. There was this warmth and understanding in it. And there was that ever cool, warm, friendly, devious smile on his lips. He looked steadily into her eyes. There was a deep sub communication in the connection.

Ivy got on her knees and crawled across the slippery, wet, white tiles. She climbed up his body. He let her come onto him. She latched her full lips onto his. The lips were fully mashing against each other, eating each other, deep tonguing each other with a hunger to get the most exposure to that warm slippery mouth of the other person. Her boobs pressed against his 300 lbs. bench press chest. Her slender hands chased over the back of his smooth, white shirt feeling up his body and revving his engine of arousal.

His hands curved around her ass, pulled her closer, and slipped in between them to grope her breasts. She tore at his shirt to get him out of clothes, all the while their lips were locked tight as if for life support. She reached into his pants and wrapped her fingers around his thick, hardened manhood. "I want this."

His shirt came off. The deltoids were wonderful. He pinned her against the wall, where she had been sitting earlier. She wrapped her legs around the small of his back. She loved the feeling of being pinned, of his strength, and of being taken. He loved the hot young girl: her boobs, tongue, eyes, ass, and her wet nether lips. He ripped her panties down her thighs.

Half-dressed with her black funeral dress riding high and his bare butt above the pulled-down pants, they were fucking like animals in heat. Biting and nibbling on each other, he thrust deeply into her. And she ground her pelvis against him to receive each ramming. Sweat glistened on them and drenched their clothes. The whole scene was shrouded in the light lingering steam.

Eventually, they succumbed to the release. Breathless, they glided down to the ground. Sprawled out, exposed in disheveled clothing, they rested in the womb-like warmth of the room. The erotic, warm feelings were slowly glowing inside of their limbs. The semen slowly dripped out of her and down her thighs. Her fingers played idly with his nipple. She thought about pulling out a chest hair to torment him. However, she only did that in serious relationships.



Funeral Games



Nearly a dozen people sat in the room where Ythes lay on the bier, dressed in robes of purest silk, her skin milky white, her hair burnished and beautiful. A few of the attendees murmured to each other in hushed, subdued conversations. Others sat quietly, staring at the blonde corpse as if in shock. 

Here and there a quiet sob broke out, or a hasty tear was wiped away. 

"Where's that damned priestess? Why are all god-speakers always late?" Demanded a burly female, who by her grayish-green skin tone and her strong features had more than a drop of orc blood in her veins. For all that, she was not wholly unattractive, and when she rose to her feet and paced the length of the room, her tigerish grace and tense power was obvious.

"Sit down, Once." Said a red-bearded dwarf in the front row, his face in his hands. "There's no hurry. She's not going anywhere.' The gruff voice nearly faded away at the last, and the face never left the hands. 

A man in the same row looked over at him. The mourners were dressed in their finest funeral clothing. Of all those present, only this man wore armor, chain and plate with a tabard that proclaimed him a priest of Tyr. He looked as if he were about to speak, then returned his silent gaze to the corpse.

Suddenly, a woman swept through the door, tall and dynamic, in robes of blue and silver, her long hair sweeping down beyond her waist in vibrant red waves. She was accompanied by two other women in similar robes, both young and beautiful, carrying bundles and baskets. The Priestess smiled dazzlingly at the gathering as she walked to the front of the room.

As her assistants started setting out equipment from the baskets, the woman took control of the audience. 

"Greetings, friends, and May the Goddess be with you. I am Celinethe, high priestess of the Goddess in the city.' She turned to face the bier, and was silent for a moment before turning back to the crowd. "We gather to say farewell to our friend Ythes of the sunlit hair as she ascends to the realm of the Goddess whose faith she has followed since childhood. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Goddess Tethys, let me assure you- the rumors you have heard are true.' 

She smiled impishly, but her eyes were intense. "In the name of the Goddess, there will be – among other things- fornication here tonight. There will be things that might offend members of other, less …permissive faiths. When the music of the flute begins, and I shoot the ceremonial arrow into the eave to summon the Goddess, those of you who might be offended should go. The Goddess shows little tolerance for intolerance, and she can teach a cruel lesson."

"But that said; let us take a moment to share our remembrances of our friend. Remember the good things, and do not dwell on the bad: she will soon be home with the Goddess, and the Goddess watches over her own well."

She glanced around the room. "I see we have a fellow priest here, a follower of the war-god. What is your name brother, and how did you come to know Ythes?"

The war-priest rose, a man of above average height, with short cropped hair graying at the temples. "I am Arcus. We journeyed for more than a year across the deserts and mountains of the south. I never knew a more faithful companion outside of the brotherhood." He said, and sat down. 

Celinethe nodded and smiled warmly at him, her eyes going elsewhere in the room. A trio of Halflings sat at the end of one row, huddled together with red eyes. "And you three- how did you come to know our friend?' 

The female Halfling looked up, arms around both her companions' shoulders as they broke down into sobs. "We was friends of hers from around town, mostly. We sort of belonged to the same, um... Social Club, and we worked a few gigs together. She was the salt of the earth, and we'd like to be part of any action that goes towards avenging her."

"Damned right we would." One of the other Halflings muttered. 

Celinethe nodded again, smiling sadly. "And what exactly happened to her? She looks so beautiful, and there is no apparent mark on her. Were any here present when she fell?"

A red-headed youth rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet, and nudged an even younger looking youth to join him, though this one was nearly a head taller. The red-head wore fine robes with arcane sigils and emblems sewn into the trim- a wizard by the look of him. The tawny haired giant wore the pelt of some great spotted cat at an angle over his linen kilt, and kept his head downcast, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"We were with her." The red-head said. "I'm Thaeus, and this is Bynwulf. We took a contract to protect a research expedition as they probed an ancient ruin. There was undead about, we figured we could deal with them, but there was something else there, something worse. It was always in shadow, and you could feel its power. We fought and ran through the ruins for days, trying to get away. Then, when we were busy with skeletons of giants and zombie ogres- there was a big green flash behind us, and Ythes was dead, just like that. Bynwulf threw her over his shoulder and we ran like school boys. None of the researchers survived, as far as I know."

"A lich, then?" asked the dwarf, eyes blazing with anger. "Where did this take place? I'll have its dried out skull for piss-pot."

"Could have been a vampire-lord" said the Half Orc called Once. "I heard there was an army of undead forming in the Catarrh wilds, led by vampires. Were you up North, by the Catarrh?

"Leave that for another time, my friends." The Priestess said. "I see my assistants are prepared, and we'll begin the ceremony with a moments pause for quiet reflection as the sacred candles are lit. If you feel you must leave, feel free to go at any time, but please- do so in silence."

Moving with deliberate slowness, Celinethe moved to the four candles that had been place in the corners of the room. East, then West, North, then South, all were lit by a wave of her fingers over the wick. The candles were over three feet tall, and decidedly phallic shaped, each standing upright without a holder. They produced both a heavy smoke that wafted towards the ceiling, and a pungent, incense-like odor. 

With that same deliberation, the Priestess picked up a bow and arrow and walked to the bier. "We call to the Goddess to welcome her own to your fold. Divine Archer, this arrow flies over the heart of your subject to bring you forth." She drew the bow smoothly and shot the arrow directly over the corpse and into the lintel of the doorway, where it quivered with the force of the shot. She looked slowly and deeply at the crowd, her glance seeming to rest on each person. A richly clad couple rose quietly and left with a respectful nod. Celinethe waited till they were gone, then arched and eyebrow and smiled warmly.

Celinethe nodded, and one of her assistants began to play a soft, piping melody on a flute of pure gold. The other strode slowly and majestically to the front of the crowd, wearing only a length of purest linen wrapped about her young, vibrant body. One perfect beast was bared by the makeshift garment and most of her leg and thigh on the other side as well. 

Celinethe raised her hands imploringly. "Divine Wanton, we call on you to welcome one of your own to your fold." She dropped her eyes to the crowd again. The incense and the music was already having its desired effect- eyes were riveted on the half-naked priestess, who had fallen to her knees and was swaying slowly to the music, her eyes closed and an expression on her lovely face that could best be described as half ecstatic, half lustful. 

"A volunteer is required for the re-enactment of the Goddess' seduction of the God Horus. The Goddess calls upon…..you." She pointed to the young barbarian, Bynwulf. The youth started in his seat, then suddenly his eyes glazed over and a beatific smile grew on his face as he rose.

"The Goddess is with us." Celinethe said aloud in an awed tone. She knew well the signs, but had never experienced the Presence with so little preliminary effort. She had expected to have to go through an actual seduction of the youth before he joined willingly in the ceremony. 

But instead he strode firmly to the front of the crowd and struck the correct pose as if he had rehearsed the ceremony for the long months it took to perfect it among most acolytes. 

Celinethe also noted the impressive tent forming beneath his kilt. The Goddess was strong tonight, indeed! She knew her own role well, and recited the next of her lines in a throbbing, seductive voice: "Horus was proud in his glory, having defeated his foes and drove them before him. He had taken prisoners, and among them was a fallen deva named Felinad, whom Horus had sentenced to death, The Goddess wished to spare Felinad this fate, for she knew the circumstances of his fall, and wanted him for an avatar."

"But Horus was stern in his denial- the deva had been a doughty foe, and cost Horus many followers of his own." At this, Bynwulf/Horus planted his hands on his hips and tossed his head haughtily. A soft glow seemed to suffuse him.

Celinethe continued: "The Goddess made obeisance to Horus, but his heart remained hard. Yet as he gazed upon the goddess prostrate before him, he felt another sort of hardness within himself as well."

The acolyte threw herself to the floor before Bynwulf/Horus and writhed sinuously. An audible gasp rose from the crowd, and Celinethe smiled, Sweat was already forming on a few brows, and those who knew each other in the crowd bustled closer together without realizing it. 

She noted one couple who she knew from other events- followers of the Goddess, or at least of her ceremonies. They probably didn't even know the deceased, she thought, but just came for the show. Not that the Goddess cared. Already the woman had the man's erect dick out and was stroking it slowly as she stared at the scene enacting in front of them. 

She continued her recital: "Horus was moved to listen again to the Goddess' pleas, and he considered her arguments thoughtfully."

The acolyte crawled lithely to the youth/god, and her supplicating hands worked their way slowly, caressingly up his legs to the protrusion beneath his kilt. More gasps came from the crowd as she freed the youth/god's cock. The Goddess had chosen well tonight- the youth was exceedingly well endowed, as befitted a young god. Still, the acolyte took the entire length and girth into her throat in one smooth swallow. She had trained well, Celinethe noted, a warm stirring in her own nether regions as she remembered some of that training.

The Acolyte began to work slowly and sensuously on the object of her worship. The Goddess was now close upon them, and Celinethe saw to her approval that nobody in the audience was now unmoved: even the Priest of Tyr was unconsciously rubbing his crotch beneath his cod piece. Elsewhere, the Halfling woman was stroking both her male companions as they each massaged one of her breasts.

The half orc woman was leaning forward against the back row of chairs as the red headed wizard plumbed her cunt with long strokes, and the dwarf was thrusting the woman from the anonymous couple up and down on his prick as she bent forward, sucking off her man. All eyes were glued on the scene of the divine fellatio before them. Celinethe again marveled at the suddenness and efficacy of the Goddess tonight, the like of which she had never experienced. She let the sheer power of the Goddess bask over her, and she felt herself orgasm gently, dedicating the throbbing in her cunt back towards her Goddess with whispered thanks to She who blessed all present with her erotic power

Suddenly, the barbarian/god shouted aloud, and the Acolyte pulled off his glistening rod as it shot long ropes of cum in high arcs across the room. Celinethe was shocked- this was certainly not as scripted, and on a night where the Goddess was so clearly in control such an event was the last thing she would have expected to happen. Bynwulf/Horus' orgasm was echoed across the room as everyone present was granted residual orgasms of their own, and soft grunts and gasps filled the air. Even the flutist was momentarily overcome by the wave of sexual energy.

But Celinethe was staring in shock at the body on the Bier. When Bynwulf/Horus had come, the ejaculate had landed squarely on the corpse- and produced a flinch!

"Goddess!" She shouted aloud, confused and awed. Necromancy was anathema to Tethys- surely this had some other meaning? She peered closely at the body, praying to the Goddess beneath her breath as she studied the body carefully.

She whirled suddenly. The crowd was staring curiously at her, eyes still partially glazed with lust, but also with a gleam of curiosity. She pointed at the red-haired wizard, who still stood with his prick embedded in the half-orc's cunt. "You! Idiot! And you!" she shifted her finger to the still-erect Bynwulf, who was shaking his head unsteadily, as if coming out of a daze. "This girl isn't dead. She isn't even hurt. She's in some sort of magically induced coma."

The crowd gasped, and they all gathered close around the body of Ythes. The shots of semen had struck her on her cheeks and hair, but most of it pooled on her breast, staining the silk of the robes she wore. 

Arcus stared intently at Ythes, and then turned, trembling in rage on the hapless pair of young adventurers. "You fools! If this had been a ceremony of Tyr, she would have been in the fire by now!" He roared.

Muttering and curses were uttered across the room, and Thaeus and Bynwulf began to back away nervously. Celinethe frowned, and then smiled. The presence of the goddess was still strong. 

"Brothers! Sisters! The Goddess has intervened. We now have but to follow her will, and Ythes will rise among us again." She nodded at the flautist, who began to play again, and with a practiced shrug Celinethe shrugged out of her priestly robes. With a whispered spell, her naked skin took on a dim glow, and her nipples rose to jut out like small pricks. 

She strode sinuously to where Thaeus and Bynwulf stood should to shoulder, and grabbed both of their now semi-erect cocks, which like every other occupant of the room was still exposed from the activities of moments before. 

""The Goddess has shown us the way- cover Ythes with the evidence of your passion!" She cried, and led both men forward to the bier by their pricks. With surprising ease, she lifted Thaeus to a sitting position on the edge of the bier, and then swooped to envelope his rising cock in her mouth. She swayed her lovely ass enticingly, and with a growl Bynwulf moved forward, grasping at her hips as he guided his cock towards her puffy-lipped cunt.

The crowd paused a moment, and then hostility and anger melted away, replaced by the Goddess-inspired lust. Eyes that were smoldering with anger glazed slightly with passion, and hands groped for each other. Within moments, the bier was surrounded by an orgy of diving proportions. As was often her experience in the Goddess' festivals, Celinethe's perceptions became a series of disjointed impressions, as if time were playing tricks on her, starting and stopping again.

Celinethe paused at the top of the wizards cock to glance around her. The war-priest was furiously plowing into the half-orc, whose muscular arms and legs were wrapped around him like cords of rope. The dwarf had his bearded face buried in the crotch of her Acolyte, who was simultaneously gulping on the surprisingly large cock of one of the Halflings. The Halfling woman was likewise riding the pole of the human man, whose wife sat on his face as she gobbled at the cock of the other Halfling. 

Celinethe began to hum a chant as she stroked and sucked on the red-haired youth's meat, the same tune as the flute played. Body's suddenly shifted around the bier- another cock replaced the barbarians' in her cunt, and she saw a Halfling slap the half-orcs' ass sharply as he plunged into her asshole, the unnamed human man now in her mouth. The barbarian youth who was moments before in her cunt was now pumping his gleaming cock furiously between the Acolytes' tits as the human woman ate hungrily at her cunt. Behind her, the dwarf's bald pate gleamed with sweat as he plowed her furrow heartily. The unnamed human male was laying on his back, his cock deep in the Halfling female's cunt, while the other Halfling male was maneuvering into position to pop her asshole. Celinethe smiled as she realized the cock filling her cunt so amply belonged to the Priest of Tyr. She murmured a quick spell known only to the highest circles of the Goddess' worshippers, and her cunt flowed with magic. Arcus screamed aloud in ecstasy as the sensations of heat and cold and twirling, grabbing flesh ripped a prolonged orgasm from him. When it finally ended, he fell to his knees weakly, trembling on the floor. She smiled again: chalk one up for Tethys, she mused. 

She finally decided the moment was right, and resumed her hummed tune around the wizards cock. Except for the war-priest, all the participants began to build simultaneously towards orgasm. She controlled the timing like a master conductor, and when she finally let the wizard shoot deep into her throat, it was as if a switch were thrown. Groans and moans filled the room as the orgasms hit. 

On the bier, Ythes moaned as well, and her legs parted and came up to a flexed position, though her eyes remained closed and her chest did not move with breath.

"Quickly- someone mount her!" Ordered Ythes. The men in the room looked at each other haplessly, each fresh from orgasm, their cocks dwindling rapidly. Could the Goddess be so cruel? Wondered Celinethe. 

But the half orc shouldered her way to the end of the bier and crawled up between Ythes' thighs. "I'll hold the fort till reinforcements come." She said sarcastically as she pulled the linen robes aside and dove at the exposed blonde slit before her. "Ah, she is warm and as sweet as ever." Once noted. 

Celinethe took control again. With a critical eye, she waved the men into a line, all standing shoulder to shoulder facing the scene on the bier. She doubted the war-priest would rise again any time soon- her own spell had drained him deeply, but except for the dwarf, the others were all young and strong, and should rise again soon. With a little help. 

She pointed the Acolyte, the human and women and the Halfling to kneeling positions, each between two males. "Get them ready. The Goddess will bless her that raises the first mast, and the first man ready for action will be doubly blessed."

She turned to the bier. The orc was perched on her knees, her head bobbing as she lapped at the cunt of the comatose woman. Celinethe smiled, noting the fluids dripping enticingly from the orcs own orifices, which were displayed nicely. Walking playfully forward, she cast a glance over her shoulder at the men as she placed a gentle hand on the half-orc's ass. "Ooh, she's been rode hard and put away wet, hasn't she, boys? Who's cum is this dripping out of her cunt?"

Celinethe leaned forward and with a long, pointed tongue licked delicately at the puffy cunt lips. "Mmm. A nice mix. And whose is this?" She licked again, this time at the cum oozing from the asshole. She heard a groan from the men behind her, and she felt the half-orc tremble at her touch. 

"Keep lapping at the pussy, Once,' reminded Celinethe. "It won't be long now: the boys are coming along fine." 

Several cocks were beginning to show signs of life now, and the women were busily bobbing from cock to cock, urging them all to life. She teasingly moved a long finger up and down Once's slit, in full view of all the men, whose eyes were glued to the digit. She slowly inserted it all the way in and as slowly removed it, then placed the glistening member into her mouth. "Mmm-mmm. I think I'll have another taste of that."




Funeral Games



Moving slightly to the side so that all the men had a full view, she propped the pussy lips wide open and moved her mouth close, whispering another of the Goddess' most sacred spells. This one affected her tongue, and was especially favored by the priestess' of the goddess: impossibly long, impossibly firm, her tongue slowly plunged into the half-orcs' snatch like a ten-inch cock. 

The men groaned again as she began to plunge the tongue in and out. Once gasped aloud and pushed back against her, grinding back against her. 

"This one's ready!" Crowed the Acolyte, and Thaeus stepped forward eagerly, his purplish cock hard and ready. Nodding, Celinethe reached forward and grabbed the half orc around the waist, lifting her bodily off of Ythes with ease, only removing her tongue as she placed her gently onto the floor. As the tongue returned to her mouth, the spell ended. 

Once whimpered and thrust her ass imploringly into the air. Celinethe smiled lasciviously. "Anybody else almost ready? This poor girl needs some relief."

Both Halfling males strutted forward to the rescue, and Celinethe turned her attention back to the bier. Thaeus was already about to mount Ythes, his cock poised against her thigh. Celinethe reached over the side of the bier and took his rod in hand. She whispered a prayer as she guided him gently to enter Ythes.

Thaeus groaned aloud. "Ah, she's so silky-wet! She feels so good!"

With easy athletic grace, Celinethe jumped atop the bier, standing while straddling Thaeus from behind, the trimmed red fur of her bush rubbing against the fiery red curls of his head. She placed both hands down atop his head and began to chant. 

She was dimly aware that the orgy had broken out anew behind her, and that Thaeus was pumping steadily and with ever-increasing fervor beneath her, but Celinethe's eyes and concentration remained locked on Ythes calm, still face. Yet again she felt Tethys' presence strongly in the room, pressing gently down on her. Again the Goddess guided the sexual energy in the room to mutual simultaneous release, and allowed Celinethe to share in it at a level so deep a less trained woman would have swooned. This time, as she felt the contractions begin in her vagina, she cried out the Goddess' name, and as Thaeus pumped his seed deep within her, Ythes bolted upright, awake and in the throes of her own orgasm. 

The room was suddenly absolutely silent, and the Ythes smiled at her friends. "Looks like I was missing a hell of a party! Let's get it on!"

Not the least of the Goddess' blessings was that all were allowed to sleep undisturbed in the ceremonial chamber until late the next day.



Funeral of a Good Girl



Megan pushed back her glasses, squinched her big blue eyes tight shut for a moment, and rubbed them. They'd only been working on this project for an hour or two, but she looked as tired as Tyrone felt. This was the hardest project in class yet, and both of them probably wished they could be paired up with someone else. The professor didn't cotton to switching out of the assigned teams, though, so unless one of them suddenly dropped out of the class, they were stuck together. Which caused problems. One problem was that she was a history major, he was a psych major, and neither one of them did very well with computers. Or each other, which was the bigger problem. They'd agreed to meet in her dorm for a long session of hitting the books, but Megan looked and acted like she was afraid of being raped the whole time they'd been studying. Tyrone decided to go ahead and confront the situation.

"Why don't you like me?" he asked.

Megan practically flinched. "I...where did you get that idea?"

Tyrone raised an eyebrow and gave her a look, and said, "Come on, be honest. I can tell you don't like me, I just want to know why, is all."

Megan shifted in her chair, and Tyrone could tell she was thinking about trying to bluff her way through it, but instead she took a deep breath and said, "It's not that I don't like you. I just...don't feel comfortable around you, is all."

"Is it because I'm black?"

"No!" Megan blushed. "It's...oh, come on. You have to know. Everyone's heard about...you know."

Tyrone smiled. "You'd be surprised at how hard it is to find out what everyone knows about you. Go on, tell me. We've got a lot of programming to get through, and it's not going to help if you and I can't even talk to each other."

Megan straightened up in her chair a little. Nervously, she twiddled a ringlet of blonde hair through her fingertips. "It's...the girls." Her blush deepened and spread. "Everyone's seen you on campus with these trampy girls, college drop-outs and townies, and there's all sorts of rumors-they say you live off-campus in a whole house full of them, like a harem, and that they all work as strippers to put you through college..." She broke off and shook her head, realizing how stupid it all sounded. "I mean, I know, it's probably just crazy stuff that people spread around, but, well...I don't know you. It's all I ever heard about you." She looked down at her outfit. "It's kind of why I dressed all frumpy, sweats and a T-shirt. I didn't want to give you any ideas."

Tyrone chuckled. "You look fine, believe me." He took a deep breath, and the smile went away, to be replaced by a deeply serious, almost uncomfortable look. "But those stories...OK. There's some truth to them. I do live off-campus, and yes, it's with six girls who all work in a strip joint. And yes, they do give me all their money, and just kind of trust me to take care of them. But it's really not my fault."

Megan inched her chair back just a bit. "Not your fault? You've got a bunch of...of sex-slaves, and it's not your fault? Whose fault is it?"

Tyrone looked down at his shoes, clearly more uncomfortable. "Nobody's, really. It's just...look, I've probably said too much already. I don't want to get you in over your head."

Megan stood up. "Now hang on! You can't just drop, 'Oh, I run a stripper harem off-campus but it's not my fault' into the conversation and then try to move on. Tell me what the deal is, or I'm kicking you out of this dorm room and we'll both flunk!"

Tyrone sighed. "Alright, but...don't say I didn't warn you, is all. The truth is..." He took a deep breath, and finally blurted out, "I have a magic penis."

Megan blinked. Opened her mouth. Blinked again. "A what?"

Tyrone shrugged helplessly. "A magic penis. I think it's a family curse, but I'm not sure. My dad left when I was about eight, and my mom took off about a month later. I was raised by my aunt, and I never got up the nerve to ask her. But it's true. My dick, um...it kind of has this effect on women. Gets in their heads, leaves them all...slutty and dumb. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you about it."

Megan just glared at him. "Magic penis. How dumb do you think I am? So what, you're telling me that your girlfriends all wound up being strippers because you made them dumb with your voodoo dick?"

"No!" Tyrone seemed really nervous now, and pulled his chair closer in to the desk. "I didn't have anything to do with it. It was the curse. It's like black magic, or something. Once a woman starts thinking about my penis, it gets hold of her. Gets into her head, becomes an obsession until she can't stop thinking about it. Then she wants to see it, and when she looks at it, she gets all dazed and horny, and she just wants it inside of her...and then it's all over for her. Once I fuck her, her brains just drip right out of her pussy and she's a little bimbo slut. I can't stop it from happening."

Megan crossed her arms. "What about me? I'm not obsessed with your cock."

"Not yet, but you're still talking about it, aren't you?"

Megan frowned. "That has nothing to do with it. I'm not obsessed with your cock, and I won't get 'dazed and horny' when I see it." She shook her head a little. "If I see it. Which I won't."

"I hope you're right." Tyrone shifted a little in his chair. "Every girl that's seen it so far has gotten horny, and I'd be surprised if you were any different, but maybe you're right."

Megan put her hands down on the table and leaned towards him angrily. "Damn straight I'm right! There's no way I'm just going to look at a guy's dick and go all gooey for it! I'm a straight-A student, a Rhodes Scholar, a potential valedick...um...torian..." She shook her head again. "I'm not going to lose my brain to your dick!"

Tyrone put his hands up defensively. "OK, fine. It seems to be getting into your head a little, but I'm sure you're right. I'll just keep it in my pants, though. Just to be on the safe side."

Megan was bright red, now, and leaning just inches from his face. "Are you saying I don't have the...willpower, the intelligence to keep my head together when looking at a man's penis?"

"It's not just a man's penis, Megan. It's a magic penis. And I'm just saying we shouldn't find out. Because when you do get that first look at it, it's going to hit you like a quart of whiskey, and you're going to forget about everything except getting it inside you. And if you don't want to have that happen, you shouldn't look at my dick."

Megan said, "Oh, that is it!" She came around the desk and stood right next to him, her tits level with his head. "Go on. Show me. I'll prove to you I'm not obsessed with your dick-take your pants off so I can see it!"

"Listen to yourself for a second, Megan," Tyrone said calmly. "You're telling me my dick isn't working its magic on you, but you're standing next to me begging me to take my pants off so you can see it. That sounds like you're becoming obsessed with it. That means the magic is working. If I show you my dick, you're going to get all horny and slutty over it. Is that what you really want?"

Megan practically snarled at him as she pulled him over to the bed and knelt down in front of him. "All I 'really want', Mister, is to see this so-called 'magic dick' of yours so I can prove to you that it's not having any effect on me at all!" She unzipped his fly. "So let's go ahead and see that...ohhhh..."

Tyrone's dick popped out, and Megan stared at it as if transfixed. "It's...so...nice..." Her eyes seemed glazed, and she reached out gently towards it.

Tyrone looked down at her. "Don't touch it, Megan, I'm warning you. If looking at it made you horny and dizzy, then touching it is going to make you mindless, and ten times as horny. If you don't want to be a mindless slut, don't touch it!"

Megan looked at Tyrone's cock, then at her own hand. "can't...fight it..." she gasped out, astonished. Slowly, as though she couldn't stop herself, she reached out and stroked his member. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then opened again, but now they seemed to be staring at nothing at all. She kept slowly stroking his cock, all the while using her free hand to wriggle out of her sweatpants.

"Oh, Megan," Tyrone said sadly. "Now it's too late for you. You just need to see what my dick tastes like, and you know that if it felt that good to stroke it, you're going to feel so much better, so much hornier if you suck it. You're already half-way naked now, Megan, and you didn't even notice. I'm afraid you're just going to pull off the rest of your clothes and just start sucking."

"sucking..." Megan slipped her top off without even hesitating, tossing her glasses onto the pile of clothing, and undid her bra to reveal a pair of small but shapely tits. "i'm so horny...getting so hard to think...help me, tyrmmmmmmphh..." The last part of her sentence was cut off as she took his whole cock into her mouth and began to slurp.

"Ohh," Tyrone gasped out, "that feels so good, baby...I wish I could help you, but you're already too horny, too slutty, pretty soon you won't be able to do anything but bend over that desk and beg for my cock. And that magic cock is going to make you cum every time I thrust, and you're just going to keep getting dumber and hornier and sluttier every time you cum, until you're just a mindless, obedient bimbo...you just can't help it anymore, Megan, you need that cock in your pussy too much..."

Megan pulled herself up off of Tyrone's dick and stood up. She swayed slightly in the cool air, her lipstick messy and her eyes now completely vacant. For a long moment, she looked like she was fighting this strange power that had gotten hold of her. Then she turned and bent over the desk. "please, tyrone, fuck me," she said in a breathy, girlish tone. "i can't stand it anymore, please fuck me..."

Tyrone stood up and walked behind her. "You know that this is going to make you a horny little fuckdoll, right? A slutty little bimbo?"

"yes, i want that now, i can't fight your magic penis, please..." Tyrone slid into her. "OhhhHHHHhhh...oh, god, tyrone, your magic penis feeels soo gOOOOoodd..."

Tyrone kept pumping away at her, receiving tiny squeaks of pleasure. "Does it feel good to become a slutgirl, baby? I'm literally fucking your brains out, now, does that feel good to you?"

"oh, yes, tyrone, yes, yes, yeeeeEEESsssss..."

"You're all wet down there, girl, your mind is just dripping out of your pussy hole as I fill it with my magic dick, do you like that?"

"...uh-huh...uh-huh..."

Tyrone gasped. "I'm gonna cum soon, girl, and...uhhh...my magic dick's magic dick-juice is gonna go all up inside you, and when you feel that, you're gonna go...ohhhh...go all blank, all mindless, be a slut forever...you want that, don't you?"

"yes, yes, OH GOD YES I FEEL IT!" With one last orgasmic gasp, she slumped forward against the desk, her eyes totally vacant and blank, her hair mussed up, and cum dripping down her leg.

Tyrone pulled out. The benefits of four years of psych class, he thought. The whole 'magic dick' line sounded corny, but combined with a few simple induction techniques and some pleasure conditioning, it had them eating out of his hand. Always seemed to work better on the repressed types, though. The smarter and more uptight they were, the quicker they broke.

He re-zipped his fly. Looked like he'd have another roommate-and space was getting kind of tight, too. Maybe Megan could room with Sheena. Yeah...another session with the 'magic dick', and they'd be just fine with the idea of sharing a bed.

THE END