Erotica Fantastica (4 page)

Tara started, then melted, for it was the
best thing she'd ever felt.

His lips were cool but sensuous in their
touch. As she responded to the arousal he kindled in her the most
beautiful sensations spread throughout her body. His lips gently
parted. She felt the hard, tactile stem of his tongue and took it
into her mouth, allowing it to beguile her senses further.

He was her mystical lover—the one who
watched and waited for her, the one who had aroused her so when she
lay on the tomb—Tara knew it.

A sweet and sudden understanding came over
her as he imbued her body with his spirit. It was the spirit of
Subterranea, the vitality of the dark undergrowth that thrust
through the earth and held it in its powerful embrace. She readily
exchanged all normal sensation for the exquisite feelings he
aroused in her. He claimed her.

He groaned and whispered in her mind as he
thrust into her. "I've been waiting for you."

Tara felt a sharp pain within, then
heaviness stole deep within her loins, an energy that stunned her
then dispersed pools of sensation through her body. She had been
pinioned once more, but this time it was by her destined nocturnal
lover.

Intense pleasure overcame her. Tara craved
more. There was no fear in her now, only the joy of discovery. She
drew back and saw that his body had melded with hers. Huge roots
thrust forth from the earthy ground and ploughed into her body
through his. They were entwined in a frenzy of organic stems that
coiled around them and thrust within.

When she lifted her hand, she realized that
it was now conjoined with his. They had become woven together with
the plant in the rich pattern of nature's tapestry. She looked into
his incandescent eyes and saw his true form reflected in their
strange irises. She recognized it through some hidden aspect of her
own nature, the aspect that had reached forth for its realization
and fulfillment.

She closed her eyes and released herself
fully to him.

A primeval and strident force rose up and
took her over. Breathless with longing, Tara wrapped herself around
him and rode the wave with him, reaching for something, something
innate.

Roots and stems sought her out from the
darkest corners of the labyrinth, greeting her, thrusting into her,
filling her and embracing her. Her lover's eyes grew more luminous
still as he gazed at her, his form pulsating and powerful as he
claimed her.

"Oh, yes, I have found home," she cried
out.

She felt the rush of sap within her veins.
It was the sweetest nectar her body had ever known and she was
carried high and long upon the wave of ecstasy it spread through
her. Xylem and phloem bedded within her, and her new form took root
and began to evolve.

* * *

Tara transmuted and transformed through
their union and became as one with him.

The fecund earth became Tara's new home and
she thrived in its succulent bed. Her mate guided her and together
they crept forth through the fertile earth of their empire, to
enmesh it with loving tendrils.

They made their seat finally upon that grave
that had once felt so sensual to her. When her new-born leaves
unfurled upon the memorial stone, she did not mourn the loss of the
fragmentary life she had lived before, but celebrated instead the
eternal cycle of the life that had claimed her as one of its
own.

Subterranea, that from which all living
things come, and that which reaches out to take them back and
reinvent them once again.

THE TRUE FOLLY OF ICARUS

Icarus did not want to leave his father, but
he knew he must.

"Go now, quickly son," his father said,
"make your escape from Crete, and do it before the sun reaches its
peak."

Icarus pulled his mask into place, inhaled
deeply and moved his arms, measuring the weight of the wings that
his father had cleverly formed upon him from feathers and wax. The
wind was strong, and he could feel the air captured beneath the
multitude of feathers. "I am ready," he assured his father.

"If anything goes wrong and you have to land
in Crete, speak to no one, and keep your mask on. People will fear
you and they will not stand in your way."

His father embraced him and then urged him
on again.

Icarus ran into the wind, moving his arms as
he did so. For a moment he thought it futile, then the air was
trapped beneath his wings and his feet lifted from the ground.
Gulping air, he moved his arms again, shocked at how powerful the
wings were in harnessing the wind, and how easily he could ride on
the breeze and direct his passage with a subtle change in the angle
of his arms.

The experience was dazzling, and his spirit
roared as he soared high above the spot where his father stood. "It
is true, I can fly!"

"Fly to your freedom, son," his father
shouted after him.

With one last wave in farewell, Icarus
turned and headed off along the cliffs. Dipping and swooping, he
flew above the rugged coastline, following it until he knew it was
a good place to cross the sea to Sicily, where he would find safe
haven.

As he made his way he marveled at how
different the landscape looked from high above, and it intrigued
him to see it so.

Later in his journey, just as he was about
to head further out to sea and in the direction of Sicily, he
caught sight of movement amongst a cluster of trees that were heavy
with blossom. It was two young nymphs were cavorting together down
there, and beautiful they were too, one dark haired, one fairer.
Fascinated, he watched a moment, hovering low on the air currents,
as the darker haired woman untied her chiton at each shoulder and
let the thin woolen shift slide down over her torso.

Dusky-skinned and lusciously feminine in her
figure, she captured his attention completely, making him forget
his task and his fragile state of being, so high above the ground
on makeshift wings. Then she moved closer to her companion and
kissed her, and Icarus grew hard with longing.

He glanced back over his shoulder. He was a
long way from the place where his father had launched him into
freedom, perhaps far enough to be safe. His father had, however,
urged him to stop for nothing and to fly to Sicily—or for as long
as his wings lasted—but would it really hurt to land for a few
moments to observe the two women?

His experience with the fair sex was far too
limited, and his curiosity immense. If his escape plan was ill
fated, he might be glad that he'd dallied a while to observe such a
delight, for he could think on it during the lonely nights. Perhaps
if he went down there into the woods, he could hide between the
trees and observe them, unseen. If he did that, however, would he
be able to stop himself doing more, perhaps even approaching them?
It was a risk.

The dilemma raged on in his thoughts, but
when he caught sight of what the two women did to one another next,
his reason was lost. He drew his wings lower and began his descent
into the woodland.

* * *

The heat haze shimmered, but beneath the
shade of the trees it was pleasant. Melete, naked and eager, urged
Aglaia to undress too. Aglaia stood by the tree trunk and eyed
Melete's naked form. Melete's nipples knotted as desire coursed
through her. Aglaia's gaze on her always did that.

Aglaia's beautiful face was flushed with
arousal. A legion of callow youths had already sworn their hearts
to her, offering her tender words of poetry, their loins vital with
desire. It was Melete to whom she came most often though, and an
eager lover she was.

"I have longed for you today," Melete said.
"Let me see you."

Aglaia lifted her skirts as far as her
waist, slowly revealing her slender thighs and her intimate flesh
to her lover.

Melete looked at her bare slit, where a drop
of dew already glistened between the delicate folds of skin there.
"You are already wet."

Aglaia nodded eagerly.

Melete brushed a fallen blossom from
Aglaia's hair, unhitched her metal girdle then released her linen
peplos from its catchments at her shoulder. Aglaia's breasts jutted
out as she cast her girdle and robe aside, up tilted nipples the
color of wine. The mound of flesh at the juncture of Aglaia's
thighs was as rounded and firm as a ripe peach. Melete's mouth
ached to bite the flesh, to suck on it so that her lover would
squirm and beg.

Once undressed Melete pushed her against the
tree and kissed Aglaia's mouth to quiet her moans while she
plundered her womanly flesh with eager fingers. Aglaia's juices
flowed rapidly and she shuddered and moaned, her graceful body
supine in submission. Melete stroked and stroked, until she found
her fingers delicately crushed and her hand completely drenched as
Aglaia peaked.

"Oh, it feels so good," Aglaia whispered.
"Too good. If the gods were to see us…should we not be ashamed of
our lust?"

Melete smiled at her question. Aglaia was so
candid and ripe, yet so unworldly. Melete was only a year or so
older but she had indulged in many pleasures of the flesh.
Chuckling, she lowered her head to suck at the firm berries of
Aglaia's nipples, distracting her with actions instead of
words.

An ebbing breeze suddenly came from
somewhere beyond and wafted the scent of flowers back and forth
over Aglaia's body. The sensation felt strange to Melete and her
pulse tripped. There was a faint noise in the air, growing louder.
Aglaia grew still. Melete lifted her head in response to Aglaia's
sudden tension, as she did she noticed a stray white feather
floating down beside them.

A shadow fell over them.

Aglaia's eyes widened, a strangled cry
escaping her when she looked beyond her lover's shoulder.

"The gods saw us...they have sent a
messenger to punish us," Aglaia stated.

Melete let go her hold and rolled back,
turning to see what had frightened her friend so. As she did she
gasped and clutched at Aglaia. The shadow had been made by a great
winged creature, a huge bird with the body of a man and a masked
face, who had apparently swooped down upon them. The two women
clung together as they watched the creature landing. His wings
moved slower, the draft from them slowly ebbing away as his flight
ended. His eyes were bright within his mask, his chest rising and
falling from his exertions.

Even in the grip of her fright Melete was
becoming aware that the creature was interested in them, as they
were in each other, for he looked at them with hungry, eager eyes.
"I do not think that he has come down to us in anger."

The creature nodded at her words, his
wind-ruffled hair falling forward as he did so. He drew his
winged-arms across his bare chest and bowed his head before them,
indicating that they should not be afraid.

Melete was fast becoming intrigued. What
manner of creature was he? That he could change his physical form
indicated that he must be of the gods. He was strong and well
built, handsome and desirable to any lusty maiden. As well as that,
the thin fabric belted around his hips could not disguise the
arousal in his loins. His manhood stood erect and vigorous, jutting
proudly towards them beneath the cloth. Melete's pulse quickened.
Perhaps he had seen them from the heavens and had taken human form
in order to come down and join them. She had heard stories of such
happenings.

"I think he has come to us for pleasure, not
punishment." She nodded down towards the tumescent bulge below his
belted waist.

Aglaia looked and gasped. "He is desirous of
us?"

"Yes, he is desirous of us...a god has come
to pleasure you, Aglaia, are you ready to receive such an
honor?"

Aglaia looked at the creature and her cheeks
flushed.

"Let us see you," Melete said to him, eager
to pursue this new adventure.

The god-man creature undid his belt,
dropping the thin material aside to reveal the stout, long bough of
his shaft. The two women moved as one, both turning towards him in
anticipation. The creature's phallus twitched with eagerness when
the full beauty of their feminine bodies was displayed to him.

"You wish to share yourself with us?" Melete
asked.

He nodded, rapidly.

Somewhere at the back of her mind she
wondered why he seemed so shy and why he was waiting for them to
direct him. Then it occurred to her that his wings restricted him
somewhat, so she beckoned with her hand, pointing to a large
flattish rock. As he followed her lead, he drew his wings in around
him. He sat down on the rock and she noticed how very hampered he
was, in fact—by both wings and the engorged member that now looked
positively stretched beyond its own capacity, it was so very
large.

"Sire, we are made breathless and desperate
by the sight of your proud phallus. It is so beautiful and hard a
thing that we both wish to be closer to it."

The man-god creature moaned loudly as if in
frustration and collapsed back onto the rock, his winged arms
spread out on either side of him, his eyes closed in
submission.

Melete glanced at Aglaia, whose eyebrows
lifted in question.

"What now?" Aglaia whispered.

"He is ours." Melete responded. She snatched
at Aglaia's hand, drawing her in. "You go first, are you
ready?"

Aglaia trembled then nodded.

"Mount him, as you would a stallion," Melete
instructed.

The creature moaned loudly again. The sound
was fretful and anguished. Beneath his mask his eyes closed then
opened again rapidly, focusing on the two women as they decided
what to do with him. Aglaia kneeled astride his hips, then moved
his erect phallus and pointed it to her centre.

Melete observed, and grew increasingly
aroused. It made her want to rub herself until she too could have a
ride. The crown was so large that Aglaia had to ease it in slowly,
and her juices ran down the shaft, easing its passage. Once she had
it fully inside her, Aglaia cried aloud, her hips moving more
vigorously as she gained the measure of the beast she had mounted.
There was much thrusting and grinding and Aglaia looked almost
ready to collapse with pleasure.