Saving the World

She dropped her arms.

The gods came alive.

As if reanimated, they stripped her. Bra, bottom, jewelry, shoes, everything, until she stood completely naked among them. She could feel perspiration on her skin, feel their hands, their breath. The dance continued, the rite. Their hands roamed, felt, caressed. With the precision of ballet, they felt her, all of her. From ankle to calf to thigh to buttock to rib to breast to chin to forehead, their hands roamed her, warmed her, excited her. She had never been with more than one man at a time, and the sheer volume of touches and strokes almost overwhelmed her ability to process the information. As soon as she focused on the fingers on her nipple, other fingers rubbed her bottom or flitted across her tummy or lingered down her inner thigh. It wasn't an arithmetic multiplication of six hands, it was a geometric progression where each touch seemed multiplied over and over. More, the precise movements reached her most sensitive spots, the places that responded tenfold. She felt that somehow these gods had mapped her body, her skin, marking the places where her blood flowed closest to the surface, where their touch warmed her in untold ways. They used the map to excite her, to stroke her, to transform the rite into something more. That she liked the touches didn't surprise her, that she craved them did. For every touch sent a message to her brain. Every feel and squeeze echoed along her nervous system. The constant stimulation wasn't merely pleasant, it was addictive. The more she received, the more she wanted. She felt like a junkie, someone hooked on a narcotic, only her obsession was three gods who sought nothing more than to stimulate her beyond her ability to resist.

It was that simple.

They worked her body so that she felt a yearning so deep she would succumb to the desire. That certain knowledge filled her head, and even as the thought lingered, she didn't care. The stimulation shouted down thought. The touches rolled into her brain like the incoming tide, drowning all reason. Logic was overwhelmed by passion. The more she was caressed, the more she wanted caressing. Her heart pounded, and her skin perspired, and her nipples hardened, and the gods danced, feeling, stroking, touching.

Until one spread the blankets, and they pulled her to the floor.

The drum seemed louder. Someone lit a torch. The gods knelt beside her. From somewhere, they produced pots of oil that they began to smear on her. Only, the oil wasn't like anything she had ever felt before. Warmed by their hands, the oil sheened under the firelight. Her skin glowed and warmed. More, the oil seemed laced with some essence, some spice that stimulated her skin. She felt as if she wore a thin coating of tiny pins that pricked her skin constantly. Not an irritation, not a pain, more of a rub or pumice, something that didn't allow her nerves to settle, that fired them constantly. The feeling was new for her. She couldn't place the scent, but she thought it was cinnamon for the skin, a kind of burning. Not really burning. More like a glow, an aura. As they applied oil all over, she had the notion that she glowed with some phosphorescent light, like those fish in the ocean whose light pulsed beneath the waves. The gods were persistent and thorough, coating every pore, until her body tingled everywhere. Firelight played over her, and her being danced in a way she had never known before. For the first time she noticed that the gods were aroused.

A naked man with an erection had always excited Lori. Like many women, she wasn't always willing to admit it, but it was fact. She supposed the reaction had something to do with the survival of the species. An erection meant the male was ready to mate, and if it helped ready the female, well, it didn't take a Phi Beta Kappa to figure out the advantage. So, the erections of the three gods excited her core and assuaged her ego. All three found her attractive enough to raise them despite the energy they poured into dancing and touching. She supposed most women wanted to appear desirable, and there was no surer proof than that unmistakable arousal. God, the sight of them took away her breath. They were...magnificent. She reached out and grabbed Moki.

It pulsed in her hand. It throbbed. She felt his heart, the pounding, the desire. He wanted her in a way she had never suspected. This was part of the rite, part of the ceremony, the renewal of the universe. In order to fuel the world for the next 1,000 years she would have sex with the gods. Her tingling skin, her pounding heart, the need in her core, they were matched by the gods who served the myth. Unless they joined, the world could not endure. Her role included coupling with fire and wind and earthquake. Together, they would keep the earth spinning through another millennium.

As if reading her mind, Moki moved forward between her legs. She drew him to her, to that part of her that proved far more moist than she first supposed. As she guided him inside her and gasped at the size, the other gods began to lick her breasts, suck her nipples. She reached out and grabbed their erections. The feel of them shot energy into her, as if she had taken hold of battery terminals. Her body completed the connection and allowed their energy to flow into her. Her hips arched as Moki stroked, deep, long strokes. He was smooth and powerful and the energy flowed, and the drum beat. She pulled one god to her mouth and licked his shaft. And suddenly it dawned on her.

They were to serve her.

Wait, her mind told her. That couldn't be.

No, the truth remained. They would do her bidding. She was in control. They would do anything and everything she wanted. Fire, wind, and earthquake served the light, and she was the light. As she moved in unison with earthquake, she pulled fire into her mouth and began to suck, savoring him, savoring the heartbeat. It seemed impossible, but the gods seemed as one, hearts beating at exactly the same rate. Her mouth and hand and body felt the same throb, the same pulsation. It was incredible, and more exciting than anything she had ever experienced. She took the shaft in her mouth deeper, while she met the strokes from Moki, while she stroked the third with her hand. The lips on her nipples and skin left trails of fire, as if the spice in the oil reacted to the saliva, causing a burning sensation. As one trail faded, another trail started, and she could trace the symbols their tongues drew by the glow on her skin.

Her hips met his stroke.

Her mouth sucked that shaft.

Her hand squeezed and jerked.

The drum beat faster.

Moki stroked faster in rhythm with the drum. She found herself using her mouth to match the beat. Her hand picked up the rhythm automatically. The symbols and lines on her skin burned hotter, and she wondered if they actually glowed. Their bodies were slick with oil and paint and perspiration. She felt an excitement she had never before known.

The drum beat faster.

Moki matched the beat.

She matched the beat. Harder, faster, it wasn't love. It was sex, incredible sex, sex to save the universe. Her lips and hand and hips moved as one, and she had the feeling they were all one somehow, connected by the drum and spice and oil. She hadn't come to Tahiti with this in mind, but now that she was here, she found it beyond her imagination.

And then, Moki exploded.

With an incredibly hard thrust, he buried himself in her, and holding her hips, he emptied into her. She stopped and waited, focusing her energy on those small muscles that grabbed his shaft and milked it, drawing from it all his essence, all the seed that would fertilize the cosmos. She could feel his hot ejection inside her, feel it as she had never felt it before, until he was drained. He pulled himself out, and she began to breathe again.

Biki replaced Moki between her legs. As he slipped inside her, she gasped afresh. Biki, although, not exactly like Moki, fit every bit as well. As he stroked in time with the drum, she felt her level of excitement rise. He moved with even more strength and need. She pulled Haki to her mouth as Moki sucked her nipples and licked her skin, leaving those magical Polynesian symbols of fire.

The drum beat faster.

Her heart and mouth matched. Biki thrust at speed, his shaft sinking in and out, stimulating every inch of her. She sucked Haki deeper into her mouth, tasting him, feeling him. His taste was different from Biki, sweeter somehow. Her heart pounded. Her hips matched Biki's rhythm. The energy of the connection seemed to grow, like a dynamo revving faster. The firelight danced, and the symbols on her skin came alive. She took the erection in her mouth deeper yet, savoring it, wanting it in a way she had never wanted any man. But this was no man, this was a god, and she was a goddess, and she was saving the world.

Biki exploded.

He rammed so deep inside, she thought he might poke through. He held her hips and pumped, huge streams of heat filling her. She allowed her body to clamp on him and constrict, pulling from him all the heat. It was like a hose, a kind of pulsating hose that shot gobs of fire into her. The feeling was unique, perfect in some sense, and her own reaction was different from anything she had ever experienced. Her hungry body drained him, holding tighter than she had ever held before. She supposed a goddess reacted this way.

Haki replaced Biki.

Haki pushed inside her, and again she felt both a newness and a sameness. The gods all seemed to fit perfectly, and yet they were not the same. As Haki pushed and stroked, she matched him, her excitement rising to a new plateau. He hammered her in rhythm with the drum. Biki and Moki touched and licked, and her skin suddenly felt crowded with symbols, with the wizardry of the rite. Firelight cast incredible shadows. Her body burned. Every inch of her tingled and the shaft pounding in and out seemed magical in itself.

The drum beat faster.

Haki matched the speed, a fever speed, thrusting, pushing. She gasped, her heart racing, her hips meeting his. The other gods stimulated her skin, hands moving with incredible speed, lips and tongue tracing glowing figures. She was reminded of a steam engine, a locomotive with the pistons driving in and out, faster and faster, harder and harder. She panted. The gods panted. Her heart pounded in her chest. Haki stimulated her again and again.

The drum beat faster.

They matched the beat. She felt in the middle of some race, a sprint. Haki pushed and the others stroked, and she felt like the train was out of control. Yet, the excitement drowned any fear. She had found a level never before imagined, never before dreamed of. She had no idea her body could react this way, that her heart could beat so fast, that she could enjoy this so much. More than surprise, the feeling was incredulity. She didn't think her response was possible. She had reached the point where she thought her heart would burst inside her chest, where her mind might explode with sensory overload. She walked the glowing knife edge of life, and she loved it.

The drum stopped.

Haki exploded.

She had thought Biki went deep. Haki went deeper, farther. He grabbed her tush and held and locked and jetted pure lava. For the third time her body tightened. This time it contracted faster, harder. A small scream escaped her lips as she squeezed harder than she had ever squeezed in her life. It was as her body was out of control, grasping like a hand, clamping tighter and tighter. Haki moaned as he emptied, as she extracted everything. She had become a kind of extruder, compressing him until every last drop had been forced out. Tighter than any key in any lock, she held him, relishing the feeling, loving the heat.

Then, it ended.

Haki pulled out.

Moki and Biki pulled back.

She lay on the blankets, her skin on fire, her body filled with steam. Firelight subsided. One by one, the gods stood, bowed, and left. Her guide was the last to leave. He smiled and walked out. He came back immediately with another canteen. Water, this time. No sweetness. She drank greedily.

She remained on the blankets until her heartbeat had returned to normal, until her skin no longer tingled or burned. Then, she dressed, and strangely, she did not feel sore. She felt drained but not sore. That seemed impossible. She had had sex with three men. She had to be...but she wasn't. As soon as she had dressed, her guide returned. With a smile, he led her into the night.

The air was cool and the stars bright. How long had she been in the hut? She had no idea. She stopped on the edge of the clearing to look at the stars. The night was velvet beauty.

"It is beautiful, no?" her guide asked.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Kona Sika gave the world another thousand years of life."

"I did, didn't I?"

With a smile, she followed him into the jungle. As they moved through the dark, she knew this was a Tahitian adventure she would never share.