Gift of the Nymphs

The bus stop had existed on the edge of a cliff on the island of Zakynthos since time immemorial. "Time immemorial" meant nobody could remember a time the peeling wooden shelter didn't crouch like a barnacle on the wind-swept curve. It was a remarkably awful place from which to catch the bus, which only came at 9:59pm and 5:13am. Jack Leary, lecturer in Greek mythology, had arrived there at 10pm. This was just on-time to see the blurred red smear of the bus's tail lights disappear around the bend in the rain. He cursed miserably and shook his fist at his cab driver, but the man was already hauling tail back through the storm to the conference centre, probably to pick up smarter professors, who had booked hotels on the island.

Jack had completely failed to book accommodations until the last minute, being engrossed in writing his presentation on the erotic history of Zakynthos. By that time, the only hotel within his budget was back in Athens, across a lot of water. So, like all poor planners, he reasoned that he could do what he'd never done before: restrict himself to only 2 hours drinking free alcohol and explaining his niche obsession to curious students and colleagues. Unfortunately, his presentation had gone so remarkably well that he had been mobbed afterwards with questions, so instead he surfed on a swelling tidal wave of ego and banter all the way to 9:45pm, remembered Athens at the last moment, and bolted for the door.

Along the way, he ran into Devora, also a professor of mythology at a Bulgarian university, and a woman that he had often considered to be made of pure sex. On this particular night she was drunk, grabbed his collar, and said she'd missed the first half of "your... erotic talk", with those eyes that some women have when they've decided it's time to press the matter.

Jack and temptation had never been evenly matched opponents, and all he wanted to do was fall with abandon into Devora's gravity and give her what she was hunting. But at times like this, he remembered a wizened advisor he'd had... a decade ago? who told Jack in ominous tones:

"Mr. Leary, there are some fields that operate smoothly when everybody's having sex with each other. Academia is not one of them. And particularly not our small corner of it."

So, he'd torn himself away from her molten gaze with only a small whimper, promised to send her the slides (ah, pain!) and stumbled out into the pouring rain to hail the cab. He could almost feel his cock craning back around to look mournfully at Devora's incredible and incredulous body, one hand braced on her waist in a full-body pout.

So, here Jack was at 3am, in a truly god-forsaken bus stop, waiting for the morning bus to come in 2 hours and transport his groggy and still-drunk face to the first ferry to Athens, where it could be smashed into a rented pillow for 2 hours and then flown back to London, where that same face would then have to entertain less admiring students during office hours.

At some point, he realised that if he'd taken Devora's offer, he wouldn't have needed the bus stop, bus, ferry, or hotel at all, because he'd instead be in a quiet and warm Greek bed and breakfast, slumbering next to her, perhaps splurging on a cab to the ferry after morning pastries. He tried and failed to remember his advisor's name so he could curse it properly, but the rain was too loud to think. Jack thought at least he wouldn't be able to hear his own recriminations, and stared off the cliff over the storm-tossed Greek ocean. It had been a really good shindig, though.

Actually, he could hear something over the noise of the rain. Somebody was... singing. Jack craned his neck out past the bus stop overhang, drenching his head, and saw a woman floating in the crashing black surf.

What the hell is this? he thought.

"Hey!" Jack shouted down to them.

The woman looked in his direction from the ocean, still singing. Her eyes scanned over him briefly and then returned to staring straight up at the moon. Her voice slid artlessly as a wolf's from note to crooning note. She seemed to have not noticed Jack at all. This hurt Jack's ego a little, to be honest, but he was more worried about the fact that she seemed to be swimming in a storm. Maybe drunk, or crazy? He hesitated a moment, then decided he wouldn't watch her drown. Jack scrambled out into the downpour, down the cliff, onto the black stone beach, and pelted towards the water, peeling off his trenchcoat as he ran. He was soaked to the skin instantly.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Come back! You'll drown! The water's too rough!"

From down here, he could see that there were two women. The second one had been floating face down, but she whipped her head out of the water to stare at him with shocked pale eyes as he shouted. She scanned his face for a moment, and then, with a graceful flip of lean and powerful ass and legs, dove under the water. At this, the first woman finally seemed to notice him and ceased singing. With a sudden shake and a sound like a whinnying horse, she also disappeared below the surface of the water.

Jack stood and gawped at the choppy black sea.

A wave crashed, and then another, and then in the third wave the two women suddenly appeared on the beach in front of him. The first woman focused on him and stepped forward until he was close enough to see a haughty curiosity in her eyes. The second woman stayed back, warily regarding them.

Jack blinked as he realised they were both bare-breasted. Then his eyes slid down further to see that they were bare completely. They had been floating naked in the Aegean without fear, and now stood facing him without shame, close enough for him to distinguish their labia peeking out from curly hair...

"Human." the first woman said, breaking his reverie. Jack wrenched his gaze up to her face.

Jack was honestly unsure of how to respond to that. "Yes? Uh.... yes."

"You have come here to the shore, to fuck us. For the pact."

His brain stalled like an engine shifting between gears too far apart. "To ff... to...? The pact...?" Was he caught in a bizarre prank? One of those shows where you get propositioned by a beautiful, naked, fearless woman, with areolas like the delicate skin of a berry, and hips like-

Jack recalled that he had come down here to be a good person, and he was being a horny one. "Sorry, wait. Look, are you alright? are you..." Jack groped for a question that a responsible person would ask, "being trafficked?"

This question seemed to bounce off of the woman. She chewed her lip. "The journey from Poseidon's kingdom was not without danger, and the last time we came, no human answered our call. They are all timid now, where once they were fearless, with hot blood in their veins."

The lightning flashed, and in that brief moment of perfect illumination, Jack realised that she had blue skin.

"The journey from..." Jack grasped wildly for a foothold on the conversation as the rain ran down his face. "Are you talking about the Zakynthos myth of the erotic dance between the sea nymphs and the humans?"

"That same one. You understand the pact, then?"

Jack was befuddled. Was she a cosplayer, or re-enactor? How many people knew this obscure, almost lost story? Her eyes gave away only her impatience with him, chewing her lip, waiting for his response.

"But... the myth isn't intended to be interpreted literally. The nymphs are a narrative tool, and the pact was never real. It's a metaphor for Zakynthos' economic relationship with the ocean, spanning thousands of years and empowering them to ward off the main thrust of Athenian hegemo-"

"Human!" she snapped.

"Yes?"

"We are here. In the flesh, not a story. Will we fuck, or not?"

Jack paused, put some suddenly unimportant questions on hold, and gave her question some serious thought. He did this because he had answered similar invitations far too quickly before, at least once in his life.

But as his prefrontal cortex weighed and measured, the animal part of his brain remembered that he had started studying eroticism in Greek mythology exactly because of fantasies like this, and made its move. His vocal cords activated without him.

"You want to fuck me."

"Yes."

"You're a sea nymph."

"Yes."

"And you want to fuck me. Here. On the beach. In this storm."

"The storm is from us and for us. There is nowhere else but this beach. The terms of the pact-"

"Yes, that's right, I remember the story. You can only fuck on the sacred beach during the storm. OK. How..." Jack realised he was trying to talk himself out of something that he wanted badly. He asked the last and only relevant question. "OK. How will we do this?"

She smiled flatly. "There is only one way. You will fuck both of us. I will go first. My sister will watch us. She likes to watch. And she needs to be warmed up. I do not. You'll lie down. Now."

In Jack's sex life, there weren't many commands. But even still, he was usually the one issuing them to his partner. To be commanded was a new experience for him. While he tried to verbalize whether he liked it, something inside decided that it was time to go with the flow, and he found himself lying down.

Menestho

"Remove your clothes."

His hands moved to his belt, and started peeling off his soaked pants and shoes with a grace he didn't feel inside. The cold smoothness of the beach stones on his ass felt shocking, like the only real part of this dream state so far. The two women observed him shimmy like a snake on the beach, his hips arching and digging his shoulder blades into the beach. The younger woman cocked her head in a reflective way. Jack felt like a stripper trying his best to get two farmers to buy a lapdance.

For something to say, he asked "What's your name? Mine is--"

"My name is Menestho. My sister's name is Callianeira. I don't need your name. You're the one who is here." The nymph walked back and forth, surveying his body. Jack felt a heavy swelling begin in his cock, which surprised him. He normally wouldn't get hard until he was touched.

And this felt like it was happening very fast. His dick was growing to full erect length.

"I..." he gaped, not sure how to balance his delight and alarm.

"The power of the pact is changing your body. It will make you hard for as long as we need you. We'll be here all night, depending on how you treat us."

Jack felt like there was a challenge there. "I'll... treat you well?"

Menestho exhaled and stopped pacing. "Of course you'll treat us well, idiot." She stepped forward and leaned over him. "What do you know about the terms of the pact?"

"You..." Menestho stepped a foot over Jack's ankle, dropped into a deep squat, and rested her hands on his hip, straddling his leg. Her pussy lips brushed against his shin. They were shockingly hot, and soft, trailing languorously over his bony leg. Jack had expected her blue skin to be cold like the surf and the rain, but her bracing hands on him were a welcoming warm presence. He found it hard to breathe as she glided softly from his ankle to his knee... and then back down. And then back up. "The.. the pact is..."

"You don't know the terms of the pact, because they don't write this part down." Menestho ignored him. "The pact requires that you make us δίνη." She continued shifting herself up and down, talking to him in smooth and easy tones while her pussy slid up and down his leg.

"That I what?" Jack couldn't concentrate on what she was saying, disconcerted by what she was doing. Why would she get him hard only to fuck his leg? Menestho, remarkably for an ocean nymph, hadn't been wet when she started doing what she was doing now, but he was starting to feel little glistening frictionless moments of slide, as lubrication slowly flowed over her lips. His cock swayed in the cold air. The rain drizzled over the three of them, gathered on the beach.

"That you make us climax. Come. Come, that you make us come." Menestho said in a disinterested voice. She leaned hard on Jack's hip with one hand and reached the other down to her pubic mound and started slowly, thoughtfully, rubbing her clit as she shifted. "You think the pact just was some erotic dance, for that is the myth you pass onwards... no, it was always a challenge. The humans must give us our release, and we will give them their richness. Ahhh..." Menestho let out a soft moan and started to bear down harder on Jack's leg beneath her. Now as she dragged her hips up and down, Jack could feel the firmness of her pubic mound, pressing her labia into the long bone of his shin and causing them to part on either side of it. Lubrication was flowing easily and abundantly between them, and Menestho's motions became a little faster. Jack's cock yearned to be between them as well, pressed under her weight and slipping into that hot softness between her legs. If she could just simply slide her hips a little further up his body...

"But we don't need you, humans."

"Come again?"

"We never have needed the humans. The pact is that way because the humans must remember that they need us, and they must make us happy." Menestho slowed down, planted both hands on his hips again, and regarded his stiff penis dispassionately. "You're a modern man... I would guess you have some ideas about the role of the gods.. and what they do for humans."

"You... you want to hear about theory of mythology?" Jack said stupidly.

Menestho grinned humourlessly down at him, with her pussy resting on his knee. "That would make me laugh... but not come, human." She started to grind a little bit, just gyrating her pussy all over his kneecap, her hips flowing up and then down in alternating movements, dipping back to scrape her clit over the bony angles of it, then back up to glide over it with her now wet pussy lips, in a sinuous and dextrous little cycle.

"Humans need theories of mythology. Gods do not." Grind, glide, grind, glide. "You need them for the same reason you needed myths in the first place. It is because the night is dark, and the storm is strong, and the moon is full and bright and the wolves are hunting, human. Ahh." With this last sigh, she grabbed hold of his cock. Jack's entire body tensed up, ready to be thrust into service. But she seemingly didn't notice. She simply held it carelessly and rearranged her hips so that she could begin to grind on his thigh, her pelvis angled down to press her clit down on him. "That's why you need theories, as a shield. That's why you need... ahhh..." Her eyes closed, and her teeth bared to bite her lip for a moment. Then her eyes opened again, flashing blue with anger and something raw and struggling to remain in control, her gaze fixed on the rocks behind his head. Her hips kept grinding, her pelvis seemingly on its own path now, with a mind of its own, even as her voice grew thicker and huskier, her breath shorter.

"You need... your stories to make you brave, human. You need theory. You need psychology, a theory of your psyche, that puts the goddess Psyche safely away so you can pretend she does not play with your mind at her whim. You need to imagine you see her game as from above, instead of from below. You need theories to make you feel strong in the face of Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysos. First you told stories about us. Now you tell stories about how you do not need the stories. Aaah!" Menestho let out a higher-pitched moan now, her movements speeding up to stimulate her clit again and again in shorter and faster intervals. Her eyes clenched shut again.

"But tell me, human. Have you ever really aaah truly aagh been ffff able to defy us?"

Jack thought that he would die if his cock wasn't stimulated soon. He reached to start stroking it, but Menestho slapped his hand back down to the ground, and gripped his wrist, still furiously grinding. She was moving like an animal of pure sex, a panther stalking her prey through the trees, hunting her approaching orgasm, moaning and struggling to spit out words like every one was a rough curse, her eyes closed, breathlessly whispering.

"Have aaah you beaten... Μορφεύς, human? Does he no longer come to you aaah roughly in your nngggh sleep and uffff beat his fuck wings and give you vile wicked nightmares or fuck fuck fuck nnngh sweet dreams as he... as he will... aaahhh... because he takes what he wants from you... as we all do... we take what we-" Menestho's eyes opened and her gaze fell on his cock. Without losing a beat, she gripped it,

"want-"

Menestho pulled herself up to kneeling, over his waist,

"from-"

with her hand underneath her on his cock, brushing it over her lips and then nestling its tip into the entrance to her vagina

"you... annnhhh"

She slid down onto his cock, sat there, and moaned. Jack's brain stopped, breath and language seared away by the heat at her core. For a wild-eyed moment he thought his cock was being burned by some magical heat inside of her, but as she slid back up again, and his cock below her lips was exposed to the night air, he realised it was her body's living heat.

He rose up on his elbows and made to grab her waist, horny beyond belief, needing to grab her hips and pull her up and down on him for his own rhythm. She grabbed his hands and flung them above his head, then planted her hands on his chest and pushed him back down, leaning on him. His head hit the small stones with a little clunk, but at this point he was past caring because Menestho's gorgeous breasts had just swung into his face and her nipples were brushing his lips, his nose, his eyelashes, his quivering lids, quivering with the thousand electrical nerve impulses that were swarming up and down his body as she slid steadily up and down his cock, panting, utterly having given herself over to the hunt, and fast approaching her orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. This cock is good. You don't mean anything to us, to our world. You are a diversion, and when we grow bored of your wit we delight in reminding you of that. Fuck. Fuck." Menestho slowed down for a moment's respite, sank onto his hips with the full length of his cock inside her, took a long and shuddering breath, letting it out slowly as she ground back and forth, back and forth.

"You... here, suck this." She slid one hand underneath his head, gripped his hair, and pulled upwards, pushing his face into her swaying breast. Jack, whose mouth had been open for the past eternity, realised that her nipple was in it now. He closed his lips around it and sucked, glided his tongue around its delicate rippled tip, feeling dazed, but aflame with desire. Desire allowed to flourish in a narrow lane by Menestho, like a flame she kept in a lantern for her own delight.

"Yes... that's good. You can keep doing that. Mmmm." She laughed suddenly, a sharp clinking sound like a rock hitting another rock. "You... you don't know what's at the bottom of the ocean, do you?" She smiled down at him, still grinding slowly, her wet and ravenous pussy slipping back and forth over his shaft.

Jack paused, bewildered.

Menestho pulled back. Her nipple slipped out of his lips. "You have never been, have you?"

Jack shook his head. She laughed again. "You never will. You know what's down there, human? Do you?" She gripped his head and tilted it up to meet her eyes, like a doll with no brain of its own to power it, which was exactly how Jack felt right now with his cock deep inside Menestho and her nipple just out of reach of his aching tongue.

"... No. I don't know."

"We are down there, human. Suck." she thrust her nipple back into his mouth and started to ride him again, speeding up, and speaking interspersed with little gasps. "We are down there, haahh, use your tongue. Use your tongue on me. That's good. We are down there, coiled around the most ancient part of your brain, since it was just a stem, haaaghh fuck your cock is good. I'll use you for a long time tonight. As much as I want and then no more." Menestho was riding him fast now, pounding away like a towering wave rushing relentlessly at the shore, speeding up to a fevered pitch. "When you dream of the deep ocean, dark and without bounds, it is us. When you dream of the black billowing cloud, too. You know we are there and you will never... aaagh... willingly come down because we will swallow you WHOL-"