Greek Freaks

Odysseus

     Odysseus tapped his fingers against the stone door. He was trying to be gentle in his movements. Inside, he was as turbulent as the Aegean sea. He ached to grab his wife, Penelope, throw her down, and rut into her. It had been years since her sweet embrace.

     He could barely remember what it felt like to push into her slick folds or bury his nose in her long, dark tresses. He was going to spend the next weeks reeducating himself. Anyone who dared enter this chamber other than to bring food and wine would meet a god like fury.

     "Come in," Penelope beckoned. She was standing at the foot of their bed. Her long dark hair descended in soft waves to her waist. Her intelligent brown eyes studied him as he approached her. They were nestled under a thick, straight brow. Odysseus wanted to lay a million kisses on that brow. He could see the mauve tips of her breasts under the thin nightgown she wore. He wanted to lay kisses on those too.

     Next to her was a maid, Eurycleia. Odysseus thought her name was. He fought the urge not to glare at the innocent servant. The poor thing didn't know she was standing in the way of a man who'd been waiting ten years for this moment.

     Odysseus walked forward, right to Penelope. Then ran his nose from the tip of her shoulder all the way to the shell of her ear. He breathed in her scent. She was sweet like wine grapes. He couldn't resist her soft lips. They were so close. He moved his hand to her chin and tilted her face to kiss her.

     Penelope whimpered as their lips touched. He felt her entire body sag against him. He had to end the kiss, otherwise he would end up taking her in front of the servant.

     "Dismiss your servant so that I may have you," he whispered to her. If he was delayed for a couple more minutes, he wouldn't care if Eurycleia was watching them. He wouldn't care if the entirety of Greece was watching them. He would take her anywhere, on any flat surface, and any audience could be watching.

     Penelope moved away from him. Taking away her lush scent.

     "Not yet. I want her to move our bed over to that side of the room." Penelope pointed a couple of meters away to where the wash basin sat. "I think it would look a lot nicer that way, don't you?" she asked him.

     Odysseus recognized this for what it was, a test. After ten years of fighting to get back to her, fighting men, and gods, and nature itself, she was testing him. Is it really you? She was asking.

     Odysseus had built their bed out of a living olive tree planted in the palace. The branches which curved around the mattress and formed a giant leafy canopy were unmovable.

     The logical part of him understood why Penelope was testing him. After so many years, how could she be sure her husband had truly returned and not some pretender aiming at the Kingship of Ithaca?

     But the logical part of Odysseus was not working right now, only the need to have her was.

     He grabbed his wife by the hips and launched her onto the soft mattress. Odysseus turned her around so her stomach was placed flat on the bed and his cock was nestled into her ass. He laid on top of her, then moved his lips to her ear.

     "I have fought ten years to get back to you and you dare test me!" he seethed. "I built the bed so that it would be unmovable. You know that. I know that. Though when I'm through, we might need a new one." He turned to look at the servant, Eurycleia. "Leave!" he shouted at her. Eurycleia scuttered out, closing the door behind her.

     "I will show you in every way possible that I am your husband tonight." Odysseus ground himself into the soft flesh of her ass. He reached around her waist and pressed his hand through her undergarment. She was sopping wet. He recalled that about her now. How wet she got when they were together, and tight, and rich. He wanted to fill his palate with her. It had been so long since he'd had a taste.