The Best Erotic Stories.

Connie and Her Greek
Twentieth Installment in the "Latina" Series of Erotic Tales
by Latina

Hi, loyal readers. I have a best friend named Connie, whom I've known since college. She is, like me, a woman who knows what she likes, and is lucky enough to have a husband who cares enough to make her love-life as spectacular as mine is. That is, she is as wild and crazy sexually as I am, maybe even more so. So I decided that you might enjoy reading her story, and she agreed to write it up for my fans.

* * * * *

Hi, I am probably Latina's longest and closest friend, since we met in college when we were both 19. My name is Connie Lingus. Yes, I know what that sounds like, and I've heard all the wise cracks before. Yes, I do very much enjoy the activity that sounds like my name, and no, I wasn't named for the act of cunnilingus. Lingus is a very old Irish/Celtic name, as is Connie.

Latina showed me her two-part story about her first time with her husband. I thought it was very sexy, sweet, and romantic, but I also have an unusual first-time story.

When Latina and I were in college, we would sometimes hang around the art museum. There was always a lot of pretty art to look at, and it was a quiet and relaxing way to get away from the stress of studying for exams. Neither of us had ever had a boyfriend yet, although Latina was quite an attractive brunette, and I was told that my long red hair and freckles were very cute and sexy. I was tall for my age, 5'8", and well proportioned at 36C-24-36 in those days. But we both were somewhat nerdy personality-wise, preferring the art museum to dating. The rich landscape paintings were always enjoyable. Then on one visit, we found that the museum had a new exhibit of ancient Greek statues. We found this exhibit even more interesting than the landscape scenes we normally liked to look at. This exhibit hall was filled with statues of naked Greek gods and demi-gods, and even though only marble, they were a joy for our horny, virginal, 19-year-old female selves to gaze upon.

One marble statue particularly caught my eye. It was pure white marble, life size, of a man nearly 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders, rippling muscles, and a highly- detailed marble cock pointing about 8 inches straight out in front of him. I swore I could just about see the veins in his marble shaft, and it seemed to be pointing directly at me in invitation. This sculptor had really captured every nuance of detail.

"Do you really think any man is THAT big?" I asked Latina.

"How should I know?" she asked. "I've never even seen one for real. But it IS very detailed, so the size is probably accurate, too."

I walked up to the statue and tried to wrap my petite 19- year-old fist around its long, thick, beautifully-masculine marble attachment. As this marble cock was about two inches in diameter, my fist had a hard time closing completely around it.

"I've heard the real thing is a lot of fun to suck into your mouth," I remarked.

"Have you ever tried it?" Latina asked.


"Neither have I. But I dare you to suck this statue's THING into your mouth."

"NO!" I shrieked in laughter. "People will see."

"I've been watching the security guard every time we come here. He always goes to lunch at exactly 11:45, and he doesn't return until 12:30. We could hide somewhere, and you'll have 45 minutes to do whatever you want with this statue. Pretend like its a real man. I dare you."

We found an old broom-closet at one end of the exhibit hall where the ancient Greek statues were displayed, and we hid there, peeking out. Sure enough, the security guard strolled off to lunch at precisely 11:45. With Latina beside me watching, I sunk to my knees, closed my eyes, and opened my lips around this protruding bit of marble. I scooted forward to take ever more of its 8 inches into my mouth and down my throat. To my amazement, filling my mouth with this huge piece of sculpted marble did not cause me to gag at all.

I cupped the statue's finely-chiseled tight ass cheeks in my two open palms as I slid ever further forward to suck- off as much of this statue as I could.

Even more amazingly, as I continued to slide it in and out of mouth, the texture seemed to change from hard, cold marble. Now it felt all warm and fleshy, just the way I imagined a real cock might feel in my mouth. I dared not open my eyes, for fear that I would find that I was still sucking on marble after all. Then this marble cock seemed to start to twitch and pulsate in my mouth, and I just had to open my eyes and look. There before me stood not marble, but flesh, bone, and muscle, a real man with the same incredible chest, arms, and oh that lovely cock slipping down my throat. He looked so amazing, that I started to feel my dew gathering under my panties. I lifted my micro- miniskirt, and I slowly slid a finger into my moist, juicy slit as I continued to suck.

I shook my head in disbelief. This must be a daydream. I closed my eyes and dreamily resumed my sucking and licking. I fluttered my eyes open, and sure enough, I was still sucking on a marble statue after all. I closed my eyes and let my imagination once more feel a real cock twitching and pulsating in my mouth, feeling the warm, velvety-smooth flesh gliding down my eager throat, as my fingers continued to explore the deepest depths of my inner regions.

Then I felt it: a warm, wonderful, creamy liquid splattering against my tongue, spurting against the back of my throat, and gliding smoothly, effortlessly down my throat.

I opened my eyes, and I was still clutching the statue's marble ass cheeks, the sculpted cock still in my mouth. But curiously, a small rivulet of thick, creamy, off-white liquid was dribbling out the corner of my mouth and down my chin. Latina sauntered over to me, and with her left index finger, she scooped this trickle off my face, and licked it off her finger. "Mmmm, tasty!" was her only comment.

"You mean this goo is REAL? But where did it come from?"

"Face it, my friend," Latina chuckled, "You have a real natural-born talent. You can suck the cream out of a marble statue! I predict you'll have a LOT of male friends!" We both laughed at her prediction.

Just then, we heard footsteps, and we realized that the security guard was on his way back from lunch. With the corner of my blouse, I wiped the dribble off the end of the statue's fine hard cock, and I smoothed down the hem of my micro-miniskirt.

"Doesn't his THING look shorter than it did before?" Latina asked. "Won't the security guard notice that?"

The statue's cock did look smaller, more shrivelled, more relaxed than before. So, still on my knees, I licked along the whole length of this marble shaft, from the balls to its head, as Latina pumped her fist forward and back, forward and back along its length. We both felt it pulse once, very strongly, and then lengthen to its previous size. I wiped it off one last time to be sure no white dribble remained. Then we both headed into the hallway, so that the security guard thought that we were trying to get INTO the exhibit, instead of having been there all along. Luckily, the statue's erection seemed just as big and strong as ever when we left, so we weren't caught.

Word quickly spread around the college that I had given an orgasm to a marble statue. Now all the boys wanted me to blow them. But I shot down their egos, boasting that the statue's organ was at least 8 inches long, and unless the guy could equal or exceed that, he should just shut up and go away. That drove every last one of them away. Until that is, one day about a year later.

This boy had been hitting on me for several weeks, and he was very cute. But I was a little afraid, I didn't know if I was ready for a relationship. He didn't pressure me for sex, though, he just wanted a few dates. He was very mature and self-confident, he didn't have to pressure a woman, he just knew he had enough going for him that he could be low- key and cool about it all. I think that his detached attitude really did make him seem more attractive. He did look a LOT like the statue, so that definitely added to the growing attraction I felt for him. Finally, after a few weeks, I reluctantly agreed to date him. On about our third date, he asked me if there was any truth to the statue story. "I'll tell you what I've told everyone else. This statue's THING was about 8 inches long, and since I know you can't measure up to that, don't even bring it up."

"Oh, but I CAN," he replied confidently, without a hint of boasting or arrogance.

"Can what?"

"Can measure up. Mine is ALSO 8 inches long. I'll prove it if you like."

He said it so innocently, with such genuine sincerity, that before I had time to consider the consequences of what I was saying, I smiled and agreed, "OK, prove it."

He unzipped his fly, and a long, strong, thick, pulsating cock plopped out. It looked every bit as huge as the one on the statue, and even its shape looked the same. Maybe it was because of my success with the statue, but for whatever reason, somehow I knew that I could handle him, I could tame his big and wild love snake. I knelt to my knees, eager to taste and experience him.

"No, no, no!" he chided. "There's something I must do first." He pulled me up by my armpits, and sat me down on a nearby chair. Then HE sank to his OWN knees facing me, and raised the hem of my miniskirt. His head completely vanished under the fabric. "I believe a true gentleman makes his lady comfortable FIRST."

He then proceeded to do things with his tongue that I didn't know were even possible, and I just kept writhing and moaning...and coming! And coming and coming and coming! Yes, my name really is Connie Lingus, and yes, at least on that day, I really was enjoying cunnilingus. After my third orgasm, he made a strange remark to me: "We gods take an oath to serve mortals. I hope I have served you well." I was feeling way too good to press him for an explanation of that remark, as he continued to lick and nibble at my swollen clit.

After my fourth shaking, full-body orgasm, we switched places, him in the chair and me facing him on my knees. Although I had never sucked a real cock before, it felt as smooth, warm, and fleshy as I had imagined it to be. I took my time, my tongue carefully pleasuring every inch of him, until I felt that he couldn't stand one more second of my slow, exquisite torture. His sweet, creamy spunk exploded all over the inside of my mouth, and it tasted even better than anything I had imagined.

Fast forward to ten years later. I was just turning 30. I had been in a lot of relationships, my oral talents had satisfied a lot of men, a few men had even given me some unforgettable thrills, but I had yet to have a real and lasting relationship. Instead, I had bought a horse ranch and busied myself in the ten million day-to-day details of keeping the business going.

This was a very old ranch from the golden days of the cowboy, and while I modernized it some, it was still pretty rustic. It even still had an outdoor shower with half- height wooden walls. I liked to shower out there and wonder what my hired ranch hands were thinking as they caught glimpses of the nude upper half of my still-youthful 36-24- 36 body beneath the shower spray.

Then one day, I was just coming back from renting out one of my best stallions for stud at a neighboring ranch. I just kept thinking of my horse providing stud services, and the thought kept making me wish I had a stud of my own. I was getting a little bit horny, but I knew that I had a lot of chores to do back at the ranch, so I struggled to push the sexy thoughts away.

As I pulled up to the ranch, a man I had never seen before was washing in our outdoor shower. He was maybe ten years my senior--that is, about 40 or damned close to it. But he was one of those men like Sean Connery who just seems to grow better and better with age. He had broad, manly shoulders, and rippling upper-arm muscles. I struggled and strained to see more of his enticing anatomy, further down, but that damned wooden wall of the shower stall completely blocked-out my view. I knew I had never seen him before, yet he somehow looked vaguely familiar.

Summoning up all of my courage, I approached the shower stall and began a polite conversation with this naked man who was dripping shower-water. My first impulse was to ask him what the hell he was doing in MY outdoor shower on MY ranch. OK, maybe that was my second impulse, my first being to peer over the shower wall and see if the rest of him looked as hot and sexy as his bare chest and muscular arms did. Yes, dammit, all right, yes, I wanted to see his COCK! Was it big and hard and suckable? Would it feel tight as it slid in and out of my slippery walls? But somehow I managed to restrain myself, and I walked away as he toweled off.

He told me his name is Atlas, like the Greek god who carries the world on his shoulders. The name fit, as he had the physique of the Greek gods in classical sculpture, and his arms looked muscular enough to support the whole planet. He told me that he had been on a hike and made a wrong turn somewhere, and then seeing my ranch house, he decided to head to it and see if he could get some help. I wanted to help him, all right, on my knees with my lips around his swollen purple cock-head. And while I don't think he would have minded that sort of help at all, I don't think that is what he was looking for at that moment. I told him to get dressed and drop by my ranch house for a meal. As we ate together, we couldn't keep our eyes off each other, but we didn't touch, and soon we parted company.

Without my knowledge, one of my ranch hands had seen the way we looked at each other, and decided that having this Atlas guy around might do me and my lonely pussy a world of good. So without my knowledge or consent, my employee invited Atlas to stay and help around the ranch for a modest salary.

The next day was a warm one, and halfway through my daily ranch chores, I decided I needed a break. One end of my ranch was a field of daisies and marigolds I had planted just for me, just to admire their beauty, as Latina and I had admired the beauty of similar scenes in landscape paintings during our teenage visits to the art museum. I kicked off my shoes, and luxuriated in the feel of strolling barefoot through the field of flowers. I closed my eyes and daydreamed about romances yet to be, and I started swaying dreamily, sexily, as I tiptoed through the marigolds. I pictured myself in the arms of this muscular Atlas fellow I had talked to in my shower the previous day, and the thought of him holding me and loving me made me unconsciously purr a loud "Mmmmmm!".

"Are you OK, miss?" a gorgeous baritone voice called out. The deeply masculine voice made my heart beat faster and my flowery folds grow moist.

I opened my eyes, and much to my surprise, there before me stood Atlas, busily pruning a nearby tree. He had on the tightest jeans, which left almost nothing to the imagination. Just the jeans: no shirt to hide his strong arms and rippling chest muscles. And like me, he was barefoot. His feet were large, his toes long and slender. I could almost see and feel those long, soft toes rubbing against my juicy slit, prying me open and slipping inside. That thought alone had me purring again.

His dark-brown hair cascaded in long, gently-undulating waves down nearly to his shoulders, the glinting noonday sunlight tinting his hair a shimmering orange-red. The dark, curly hairs on his arms and chest also glowed orange- red in the sunlight, making his handsomely-chiseled features that much more irresistible. In fact, I really COULDN'T resist, and sinking to my knees before him, I clutched his ass cheeks in both of my palms, and planted soft kisses and licks on the nipples of his well-defined bare chest. His ass felt firm and hard and wonderful and vaguely familiar as I let my kisses trail lower down his torso, and I focused on licking at his navel.

Backing away from his navel, I removed my hands from his fine, strong ass, and I made quite a show of unbuckling his belt. I planted a soft kiss directly over the ridge at the front of his jeans, then slowly unzipped him. It was like unwrapping a Christmas present, only I instinctively knew that the contents of this package would be far better than anything Santa had ever left under my tree. I couldn't wait one second longer, and with one mighty tug, I pulled his jeans straight down to his ankles. He very kindly and generously stepped out of his jeans, to let me see every gorgeous inch of his nakedness now.

I leaned in close and clutched his ass again. Again, its hardness and shape felt vaguely familiar. But I couldn't think about that now, I just leaned forward, and let his magnificent 8-inch shaft (which was already pointing straight out in front of him) glide slowly and sweetly past my lips and down my throat. As he slid into my mouth, I closed my eyes, and I kept swirling and circling my tongue all over his tasty, pulsating treat.

Opening my eyes, I saw standing before me, not the man Atlas, but that statue I had sucked-off on a dare ten years earlier, in the art museum. But that couldn't be right. I closed my eyes, and increased the frantic pace of my licks on his delicious cock. When I opened my eyes again, my hunky Atlas once more stood before me in all his magnificent flesh and muscle. I began to suck him ever more deeply into my throat, and he let out a series of ecstatically-happy moans that brought smiles to his face and mine.

"Your lips, your tongue," he panted. "they seem vaguely familiar. Have we met before? I would SWEAR this isn't the first time your mouth has sucked on my cock!"

"Funny," I said, "I was thinking the same thing. Your hard, chiseled ass, your long and strong cock, the unique taste of you in my mouth, they all seem SO familiar."

I closed my eyes again, and nearly in a swoon, I sucked even harder. Then I backed off his magnificent shaft, and squinted my eyes open again. There was that damned statue before me again. I didn't want marble, I wanted manly flesh and rippling muscles. I closed my eyes, and VERY slowly licked my way up from his balls to his thick purple cock- head. I opened my eyes again, happy to find Atlas once more standing before me, with the same face and same chiseled features as that statue. That's why he seemed so familiar: he could have been the model for that ancient Greek statue, as every line of his face and body, the size and shape of his toned butt and his generously-sized organ matched the statue detail for detail. I didn't know how this was possible, but I welcomed the familiarity of his shape from the statue and the newness of him being real flesh and muscle instead of marble.

I opened my lips around his manhood again, and delighted in the feeling as he quivered, pulsed, and throbbed his way back into my throat. Then I backed halfway off, just as he erupted his sweet, creamy cock-juice against the millions of hungry taste-buds on my tongue. He had a unique flavor unlike any man I had ever sucked before, yet it was familiar. Then I realized, it was the same taste I had experienced when sucking-off the statue ten years before. I had just about convinced myself that the art-museum caper was a daydream, no marble statue could REALLY shoot sweet, creamy, delicious come down a woman's throat. But now I knew that had been no daydream, for here Atlas was given me EXACTLY the same flavor as he shot glob after tasty glob onto my swirling tongue.

Atlas spread his jeans on the ground, and gently lay me down atop them. He clutched my knees in his powerful hands, and raised them nearly to my chest. He then lay flat on the ground, face down, his head between my raised knees. He kissed my moist pussy lips, and then slowly slid a finger inside, rubbing against my G-spot as he gently massaged my dampening inner walls. Then his finger retreated, only to be replaced by his gently-lapping tongue. His tongue started moving ever upward, until it just brushed my clit. I thrust my hips upward, encouraging his skilled tongue to playfully lick at my hardening love button. His lips closed around the tip of my growing clit, and sucked it up into his mouth. My clit stiffened like a miniature cock, and that's when his teeth began gently chewing at my passion switch, even as his lips sucked and his tongue licked at my by-now desperately horny clit.

I reached down and encircled both hands around his long, thick, throbbing love hose. He got the hint, and he scooted up, aligning his hips with mine. He pushed himself up on his powerful arms, and I guided his love rocket with both hands as he slowly sank between my widespread legs. When I felt the very tip pushing my pussy lips even further apart, I came. He slowly slid into me, about a millimeter at a time, and when I finally felt his balls pressed up against my vaginal lips, I came again.

He started pumping in and out of me ever so slowly at first, but gradually increasing the pace, until he was thrusting into me about once every second. On one outward stroke, he paused, only his cock head still inside of me. I only had a moment to wonder what he was doing, as now his full 8 inches slammed into me so hard and fast, that I instantly came. As my come began to ooze all over the exterior of his deeply-buried shaft, I felt his warm ooze starting to fill every recess of my innermost caverns. Feeling him pulse and twitch and come inside of me, I came yet one more time. He retreated out to his cock-head again, and then slammed into me hard one more time, and I felt his second burst flood into me.

Atlas collapsed on top of me, his lips kissing my eyelids, my lips, my breasts and nipples, even as his cock continued to throb deep inside of me.

I didn't want his magnificent cock ever to retreat. As we lay with our arms and legs entwined around each other, and his twitching cock still deeply buried in my soaking-wet pussy, our panting slowly calmed enough for me to talk.

"Who ARE you?" I asked breathlessly. "And how come an ancient Greek statue I saw 10 years ago looks EXACTLY like you?"

"You know about the statue?"

"KNOW about it? I knelt down and sucked it, and made it come in my mouth even though it was marble. It was the strangest experience of my life."

"That was YOU?" Atlas asked in disbelief.

"What do you mean, that was me? You sound like you were there!"

"I was. That was me you were sucking on. And you did a MAGNIFICENT job! I think I started to fall in love with you a little even back then."

"I don't understand. How could that marble statue be you?"

"I told you my name is Atlas. I am the REAL Atlas, the one from Greek myth. Every few years, I liked to take a break from carrying the earth around on my shoulders, and actually VISIT spots on the planet I was carrying. One year, on a whim, I visited old Celtic Ireland. There I met this beautiful young redheaded sorceress, and she fell in love with me. But I was such a fool, and I was in too much of a hurry to get back to my job of carrying the earth around on my shoulders, to even notice this stunning beauty. Broken-hearted, she got so mad at me, that she put a spell on me, and turned me into a stone statue."

"Uh-huh, sure. A Celtic sorceress turned you into a statue."

"Yes, she did. She looked just like you, same beautiful freckles and shimmering red hair. She said I would find her again if and when I ever opened my heart to accept a woman's love. And if I didn't know better, I'd swear I had found her--you--again. But I know you couldn't possibly be that same beautiful Connie from 1500 years ago."

"CONNIE? Her name was Connie? But MY name is Connie, and I am of Celtic heritage."

"Really? Have you been alive for 1500 years?"

"NO," I chuckled. "At least, I can't remember anything from more than 30 years ago. But please, do go on with your story."

"Luckily, a lesser-known Greek demi-god named gravity figured out how to keep the earth in its place in my absence, while I was a statue. Anyway, this lovely sorceress told me that only the love of a good woman could turn me from marble back into human form again, and only if I ACCEPTED her love would I be able to STAY human. I stayed a statue for 1,500 years, until your lusty and loving attentions awakened me ten years ago. But I was still such a fool, I didn't feel anything for you then, and after you left, I turned back into a statue because I hadn't opened my heart to you. I even met you one more time after that, we made love again with me as your first boyfriend."

"That was YOU? You do look like him!"

"You seemed confused when I told you, 'We gods take an oath to serve mortals. I hope I have served you well.'"

"How did you KNOW that?"

"I told you, I am a Greek god, and I've had a part in your life for 1500 years. But even when I became your boyfriend about 8 years ago, I still couldn't open my heart to you, my sorceress, and you once more turned me back into a statue. But now that I have found you yet again, I won't make that mistake again, my sweet Connie."

"And why not?"

"Because I can feel your love for me, and it has opened my heart at last. I love you, my sweet, sweet Connie. After 1500 years, I finally accept your love for me, and I truly love you with all my heart."

"Oh, one blow job and one fuck, and now you LOVE me?"

"It's more than that. Remember, I am a Greek god, and I can see inside a human heart."

"Oh, REALLY? Then what do you see inside mine?"

"You were bitter and vindictive toward me 1500 years ago. But the centuries have mellowed your heart, and now you are a kind and caring, loving and giving woman, but a lonely woman who needs a man to be there for her, a woman who loves giving and receiving pleasure with the right man in a committed, loving relationship. Only you never found the right man for the job, until now."

"Oh, and you are that right man, I suppose?"

Atlas didn't answer my question with words. Instead, he pushed himself upward by his mighty arms, and then slammed himself down on top of me, his cock pulsing and throbbing as it once more thrust deep into me. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, resting my feet on his tightly-muscled ass cheeks as I drew him deeper and ever deeper inside of me. He wrapped his arms around my back, and his soft lips kissed my lips so sweetly and gently. I opened my mouth slightly, and began circling my tongue very slowly around his soft, sensuous lips. He parted his lips, and his tongue playfully wrestled mine before slipping slowly into my mouth. As we french-kissed, he drew himself up and out of me again, but I pressed down powerfully on his ass with my feet, until his magnificent 8-inch cock was once more buried in me up to his balls.

He filled me up so completely now, and it felt so terrific, that I tingled from head to toe, writhing on the bed, moaning his name over and over again until I came more forcefully than I ever had in my life. Just as I started to come, so did he, and I could feel our well-blended passion juices oozing out of my pussy and down onto my thighs and my tummy.

Atlas spoke at last. "So, tell me, answer your own question. AM I the right man for you?"

"Yes, oh yes! You are SSSOOOO right for me."

We then hugged and kissed for about ten minutes, his cock still hard and buried inside of me. I was now totally, helplessly in love with him.

"But if we are to have a real relationship," I continued, "we have to be totally honest with each other. Your COME may be easy and wonderful to swallow, but your story of Greek gods and Celtic sorceresses isn't. So tell me, who are you REALLY?"

"You don't believe I'm the Greek god Atlas?" he asked with a slightly-sad, deeply-disappointed expression.

"No, I don't. You need a better story than that."

Atlas thought long and hard before answering me. "OK, how's this. Ten years ago, I was 29, and looked pretty-much as I do now. My father and I read that the art museum was having an exhibit of ancient Greek statues. So we cooked up this scheme to make a FAKE Greek statue, and pass it off to the museum as the real thing for a lot of money. We knew that Greek statues tend to be, umm, shall we say generously proportioned, between the legs, and as I am that way, too, we decided to use me as the model for our forgery. So my dad sculpted me in the buff, using some very old marble to make it look genuine, and I lay low for a few months so nobody would see the similarity between me and this supposedly ancient statue. We were paid $3 million for this statue. There, is that a better story?"

"Only if it's true. It DOES sound more believable. But didn't you guys ever get caught?"

"No, never."

"Then why do you tell me this story now. Aren't you afraid I'll turn you in to the authorities?"

Atlas smiled and kissed me. "Do you love me?" he asked, as his long, thick cock once more twitched and pulsed deep inside of me.

"Of course, I do, darling," I replied, squeezing my pussy muscles tightly around his still-throbbing cock.

"Then that's why I can tell you this story without fear that you'll turn me in."

Atlas and I have been married for almost 20 years now. Sometimes when we make love, the strangest and most mystical feelings wash over me, so that I start to wonder whether he is truly the ancient Greek god Atlas after all, and the art-forgery story is the real fiction. It doesn't really matter: I love him with all of my heart and soul, he rocks my world, curls my toes, dampens my pussy, quickens my step, and makes my heart beat faster at the mere thought of him. And when it comes right down to it, that is all I really need to know.


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