Gaelic Goddess

Tom looked at his cock, then at Rhiannon. "Oh, God, please tell me you're not comparing dick size. I know mine is a decent length, but..."

She simply smirked and held out her thumb and forefinger, barely separated. He rolled his eyes and grimaced. "Great. That's exactly what I wanted in my mind when I started this. A vision of my grandfather's willy. Thanks, Rhi."

"My name," she said coldly. "Is Rhiannon."

Tom looked up, startled at the change in her voice. Her face was distant and haughty, a queen of ice and snow.

"Names have power, Thomas Phelan. Forget it to your sorrow."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Nicknames are a sign of affection among humans. I was hoping to make you more comfortable with me." He turned aside hastily and pulled a roll of toilet paper out of one of his desk drawers. She eyed it, eyebrows raised.

"It seems to me that you were prepared for this, Tom." She looked at his laptop, and he blushed fiercely. "I see now," she crowed triumphantly. "You use it when you watch the wicked movies where the women wear no clothes at all! For shame, Thomas!" She giggled as he tried to answer. Finally he gave up and shrugged.

"I'm a young man. I have urges. I'm not going to apologize."

"No more than I," she agreed. "And since your flagpole is at full mast, what say you give me a little show?"

"I suppose," he said dubiously. "I have to say, I've never done this with an audience."

Truth be told, though, he was growing excited by the prospect. It had only been a few days since he had last jacked off, but with Rhiannon's sensual presence, it seemed like weeks. As he softly gripped his cock, it throbbed in his hand, eager and mindless. He had to close his eyes and fight down the tidal surge of lust.

Keeping his hand still, he instead looked at Rhiannon. She was staring at him boldly, her lips slightly parted. Meeting her eyes firmly, he used his thumb to coat the head of his glans with the juice that was leaking from his slit. The exquisite sensation on his cock made him tilt his head back, and he had to squeeze the base of his dick tightly to stave off a premature explosion.

Closing his eyes, he whispered, "I don't want to disappoint you, Rhiannon, but I am not sure how long I'm going to last. I'm kind of worked up right now."

"As am I," her voice answered. His eyes snapped open to take in her wondrous form. Like the night before, she was lying on the sofa. One hand held the lips of her sex open, while the other alternated between long firm strokes inside her sheath and tiny, nimble caresses of her clitoris. Her skin was flushed a delicate pink and her full, beautiful breasts bobbed in time as her hips slowly rose and fell to the motions of her hands. "Tell me," she said softly. "Do you have any of those clever devices that your women use? You know," she said with a slow, naughty smile as the easy pulse of her hips quickened. "The ones that look like a man's peineas and have the wicked little demons in them that make them jitter and hum?"

"Those aren't demons," Tom protested weakly. "They're batteries. And no. My last girlfriend took her vibrator with her when she moved out."

"Pity," Rhiannon said. "I could have used it. My hand is going to wear out before my faighin does. Well, it's all for the best, I suppose," she continued. "if she was still here I doubt I could have convinced her to share."

Tom decided not to ask what a faighin was. Instead, he watched Rhiannon as his hand slowly pumped his shaft. "The vibrator?" he asked, "or me?"

Rhiannon laughed delightedly. "Bold boy! Either, of course. But you are well rid of her." She made a spitting sound. "Angela, pah! A fair name for a foul woman."

"Let's talk about something more pleasant," said Tom, trying to fight off the surge of arousal. He cast about desperately for something to say. "I thought your people were blond, like the elves in the movies. All the ancient artwork I've been able to find online shows your people with blond hair. Why is your hair black?"

She sighed. "How many blond Irishwomen do you see around, Tom? We used to be blond, true. But the Irish got themselves generations of redheads and brunettes. And the Irish, Brigit love them, are rather...strong-minded when it comes to their gods. So we changed ourselves to suit them. Personally, I like it. Better a black-haired goddess than a redhead that would make the ignorant think I was a female leipreachán." One hand left her sheath and traveled up to toy with her breasts. Her nipples peaked immediately, and as the night before, drops of milk formed on the tips.

The sight of her milk, proof of her divine fertility, inflamed Tom. Within his grip, his cock surged. Moisture oozed from his slit, easing his strokes. His entire cock was coated with his juice. Feet braced against the floor, his hips tilted up, mindlessly thrusting against a woman who was, sadly, not present. His face reddened, the cords of his neck standing out.

"Rhiannon, I'm going to..."

"Yes," she said, her voice as gentle as a mother with a child. "Do it, Tom. Come for me. Come now."

Her loving words sent him over the edge. The muscles in his cock spasmed, clenched, and released, over and over, shooting jets of his semen into the air, falling in small pools on the skin of his chest and stomach.

As if his own orgasm was a trigger, Rhiannon climaxed almost immediately, her hips bucking wildly, his head and chest thrashing from side to side. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream as she plunged her fingers into the sopping sheath of her sex, her holy dew running unchecked down her thighs.

Tom's strokes slowed, then stopped as the wave of bliss receded. He blinked, clearing away the haze of his orgasm. Shamefaced, unable to believe what had just happened, he reached for the roll of tissue.

He was interrupted by a movement from the sofa. Slowly, moving in a sensual strut as old as the female form itself, Rhiannon rose and walked towards him. Leaning over him, she ran her hands over his seed-spattered torso, humming softly. He watched, disbelieving, as she raised a finger to her mouth and licked his essence of the tip.

"Oh," she sighed. "So good." She sank to he knees and began to lick his come off his chest with long, loving strokes.

"What the hell, Rhiannon?" he breathed softly. "No one asked you to do that."

She smiled at him from between his thighs, completely unfazed. "That's right, Thomas. I chose to do it myself. Like an adult who is capable of making her own choices. And it is good. Very good. The seed of a virile young man? To me it is as milk to a babe." She lowered herself to his cock, taking it into her mouth. Working with lips and tongue, she soon cleaned it of the traces of his climax, letting it drop limply from her mouth with a lewd plop.

"Well, that was pleasant," she remarked, turning back to the sofa. She sat down with a self-satisfied air and turned the TV back on.

Shaking his head, Tom turned back to his research.

Somehow it never occurred to him to put his clothes back on.

Rhiannon smiled.

****

Later that day, Tom convinced Rhiannon, with some difficulty, to put on some clothes so they could shop for groceries.

"All I have here is frozen food. That's OK for me. But I am not going to serve frozen pizza or chicken strips to a member of the Tuatha. Consider it my own way of invoking the ancient hospitality laws."

Rhiannon smiled at to herself as she followed Tom down the aisle in the store. Her hips swayed slowly as she walked, her nipples tenting the warm cloth of her shirt. Damp patches formed around them as her milk leaked out. She considered shutting off the flow, but decided against it.

It has been so long, she thought. Let me enjoy this.

Tom finished stocking up on canned goods and turned to the produce section. As he did so, he saw a small, thin woman with tired eyes watching Rhiannon. As he watched, her face suffused with something like awe. Glancing about herself nervously, she slowly sidled over towards them.

"Holy Goddess?" she asked softly. Rhiannon looked at her, then bowed her head, face softening with pity.

"Yes, my daughter?" she asked.

"It is you!" the woman cried in a wondering whisper. She moved closer. "I keep to the old ways, although my husband doesn't approve." She motioned to one side with a jerk of her head, where a sad-faced man stood, picking through the apples. "Please, mighty Goddess, if I might ask a boon. I want..."

"A child," Rhiannon interrupted calmly. "You have been trying these eight years, and your man's seed is weak, and the physicians cannot assist you." She glanced about quickly. The store was as empty as it could be at mid-afternoon on a Monday. She lifted up her shirt, exposing one magnificent breast. A drop of milk clung to a turgid nipple.

"Take my bounty within you, my child, and you will have what you wish."

The woman blinked and seemed about to protest, then her face firmed and she moved forward. Raising her mouth, her lips latched onto Rhiannon's breast. She felt the woman's tongue hesitantly lick her nipple, and then, as the taste of her nectar hit her, she suckled furiously, draining the milk from her. She moaned, the vibration of the sound sending waves of pleasure through her body, and as the woman's hands came around and her fingers clenched the tight curves of her ass, it was all she could do to not lay on the cold tile floor and let herself be taken.

Oh, and her tongue is so clever, too, she sighed regretfully. With difficulty, she moved away, disengaging from those talented lips.

"That's enough," she said with a smile. One hand lingered over the woman's belly. She's ripe, she thought. She will bear a daughter who will become a holy priestess in her own right. Oh, this is well done, Rhiannon!

Eyes glazed, pupils dilated with desire, the woman moved away.

****

Dave Edsall dropped a last apple into the bag and looked around for Ida. She had been talking to a beautiful young woman a moment ago. Ah. There she is.

She strode up to him with an intensity that was frightening. As he flinched back, she stepped into his arms. Her breath was hot in his ear and he could feel her small breasts pressing into his chest.

"We are going home to fuck. Right now."

He swallowed a protest as her hand dipped into the waistband of his trousers and stroked his penis. She kissed the corner of his mouth, tongue coming out to play on his lips. When it withdrew, he wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes away and make love with her. Unbidden, a vision came to him of their wedding night, of her kneeling shamelessly on their hotel bed in Schaumburg, her sweet rear wiggling tauntingly in front of him as he struggled out of the rented tuxedo.

Before the ever-mounting failure of their wish to have children cast a permanent pall on their marriage.

"I love you," he said, stating what he had so seldom told her over the last year.

"Yeah," he nodded. He held her hand and together they walked towards the exit, leaving behind their shopping cart. His last words lingered behind him.

"Let's go home and fuck."

****

Tom, who had been watching the whole scene play out, lifted his eyebrows with amusement.

"Fertility goddess, huh?"

"Indeed," Rhiannon replied, smiling with pride. "But strange," she said, "to find one of my worshipers here."

Tom shrugged. "Strange stuff has been going around lately. Did you know there's a guy in Iowa who has set himself up as a priest of Bacchus? The old Greek god of wine and sex? One of the local news channels did a bit about him a couple weeks back. He insists it isn't a cult, but he's got his mother and sister helping him out.

"He says he just wants to bring back the joy of worship. Personally, I think it's a tax scam. This guy was working as a delivery boy before he got himself a case of religion."

"Don't be too quick to condemn, Tom," Rhiannon said, a twinkle in her eye. "If you told anyone you had a Irish fertility goddess living in your apartment, would they be very understanding?"

Tom snorted. "Hell, they'd be fitting me for white coats already." He looked over the abandoned cart, picking out fresh fruit and vegetables and putting them in his basket. "I think we have what we need here. Are you ready to go?"

"No one else here needs my help. Sure, let's go."

****

He made tacos for dinner, which she enjoyed, though the sight of salsa dripping down the white skin of her chin and neck promised some very disturbing dreams later on.

"You said earlier that you knew I was clever when I was a little boy. How did you know that? I never saw you when I was a kid. Or an adult, for that matter. I think I would have remembered you. How could you have possibly known what I was like?"

In answer, she put down her taco, liberally stuffed with rice, beef, lettuce and onion, and abruptly vanished from his sight. He gaped helplessly, then shouted, "Come back!"

In a blink she was back, sitting exactly where she had been before.

"You can disappear, too?"

She nodded. "You know, the entire 'gods working in mysterious ways' bit," she said, flipping a hand, as if the ability to make one's self invisible was nothing more than a slightly amusing party trick.

"So when I visited Grandpa Mick..."

"I saw you then. You and your mother and your poor father. I tried to help him, you know," she said, her eyes sad. "But I was forbidden. I could not make myself visible to any of your grandfather's bloodline. All I could do was observe. And it is only through my good luck that I was able to watch you. When your cousins were eight, they...no. I am not going to soil my memory by telling you what they did. Mick was pleased, though. He thought it a grand game to order me to watch Scott and Sean, knowing that if things went as he planned, they would be the next to hold my contract, after their father died.

"But he didn't specify them," she said with a small smile. "He simply said, 'my grandsons'. Which included you, wonderful man." She stroked his cheek, as she seemed to do every time she invoked his 'wonderfulness'. He leaned into it, fighting the urge to capture her hand in his. For just a moment, his imagination spiraled out of control...

He kissed her knuckles, his lips gentle. She smiled at him playfully, then abandoned her seat to come to him. Sitting on his lap, she leaned into him, her full breasts pushing into his chest as she lifted her mouth to his, desiring, desired.

He cleared his throat harshly and bent to his meal. If he had looked up he would have seen Rhiannon's smile, and the quick inhalation that caused her breasts to jump fetchingly inside her shirt.

"So I was able to observe you for years as you grew up. I could see that your parents were a positive influence on you. Especially your mother, as your father's issues grew worse. She was a rock. You owe a lot to her."

"I know it," he replied. He took a last bite of his taco. He looked over to his desk and sighed. "I'm going over the contract again. There is something there..."

Rhiannon made an encouraging noise. He sighed in frustration.

"There is something there. I know it is. I can feel it. It's like...it's like a room at night. You know where the furniture is. You know where the doors are. But until you hit the light switch you don't really see anything. Right now I am still stumbling around and banging my shins into chairs."

"You'll find it. I know you will. By the way, you can forget about studying for the bar. You'll pass easily."

"What? How can you possibly know that?"

She stood and spun around, the hem of the sundress she had changed into flaring around her thighs. "Hello? Goddess, remember? Don't you think I can see what lies in store for you?"

"I'm calling bullshit on that," Tom said. "It seems too good to be true. Besides, if you can see into the future, why don't you just tell me how I can break the contract?"

"I can't see into my future, silly boy. Only others."

"Really? OK then. What about that couple we met today at the store. What is going to happen with them?"

Rhiannon paused, her eyes going hazy and distant. She gave a sudden, luminous grin. "Well, right now they are making love for the third time since they came back from the store. Not necessary, really. Dave impregnated Ida the first time. They are going to have twins. Boy and girl. Her mother will tell her children that they was born due to a blessing of an Irish goddess. The daughter will travel to Ireland to learn our ways, and become my priestess."

Tom blinked. "Well, we'll have to keep our eyes on them to find out if it's true." He stood and stretched, unaware of how Rhiannon's eyes followed him hungrily.

By the Dagda, he has no idea, she thought, amazed. No idea at all. He could crook his finger at me and I would come running. I would lay myself at his feet just to stay with him. And he treats me as if there is something wrong with him.

And that is why I am falling in love with him.

It was her way, as inevitable as the sunrise. When she fell, she fell hard. And this plain, unassuming, sweet man already had his heart within his grasp. The only question now was whether he would let himself know how much he truly wanted her. That he did was beyond question. Whether he would let himself act...that was another question.

Gently, child. He is terrified both of you and of his power over you. He isn't going to make a move in your direction. Ever. He is scared to death that he could turn into his grandfather.

"The same blood flows in my veins. The same weakness."

Blessed Mother Brigit! No wonder he loves those movies so much. They couldn't be more appropriate to his life if they tried. The despised ancestor. The lure of power. And now, temptation. Not a ring, though. Only myself.

Well. If he won't move towards me, I will have to move towards him.

****

Tom woke the next morning, warm and content. Fighting through the cotton clouds of his dreams, he slowly became aware of another presence beside him in the bed. Blinking his eyes open, he saw that he was sharing it with Rhiannon.

She was nestled in beside him, her face snug against his chest, one arm wrapped around his waist. Closing his eyes, he thanked all gods, old and new, that he had not woken up with morning wood. If he had, he might have died of embarrassment on the spot.

As he tried to get out of bed without disturbing her, she stirred beside him and woke up. She smiled softly at him through her raven-black hair. Seeing her beauty made his heart seize up in his chest. At that moment he would have done anything, literally anything in the world, to live the rest of his life beside her.

"Good morning," she said softly. Her arm tightened around his waist, and he felt the silken length of her legs as her thighs pressed close to his own.

"Good morning," he returned. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, very well indeed," she replied, mouth turning upward in a warm smile. "My bed has been cold for too long. So I thought I would find a man who could warm me. How convenient that you were here," she said, eyes dancing merrily.

Tom frowned. "Rhiannon, tell me truly. How much of this is revenge on Mick? Because if it is, I'd like for it to stop. Don't punish me because of what he did to you."

"Punish?" Rhiannon's voice was incredulous. "You wake up with a goddess in your bed and you think I am punishing you?"

"Well, yes. I have told you before that I am not going to take advantage of the situation. You have my thanks as a leash on me. What else could it be?"

"I don't know, you stupid, ignorant, sweet, wonderful man." Like magic, her palm appeared to cup his cheek. "Maybe it was honest affection? Maybe I am a being who needs comfort as a tree does sunlight, and I see you as a friend who would never harm me?