Medusa's Pleasure

Suddenly, she clamped tight around him, halting his motion. "Enough." Medusa dropped one leg from his waist. Sweeping it under the Helot, she rolled them over "My turn."

Medusa's hips rolled up and down, riding him as if he were a cantering horse. His hips arched up to meet hers with equal passion. Her slick sheath pulsed and squeezed his member, and her bosoms slid over his sweating chest. They kissed hard now, each sucking the other's mouth. Free from holding himself up above her, his arms wrapped around the Gorgon, and his hands roamed, stroking and squeezing her thighs, hips, breasts, and face. He ran a hand through her hair serpents, and they coiled around him, splayed out over his chest, or undulated with her back as it arched and flexed. Again, she tensed up. Her hair snakes hissed in harmony with her as she squealed in wordless, climactic pleasure.

Then she paused and glared down at Asklepios. "THRICE! Thrice you've pleasured me! By the Furies, I'll finish you yet, mortal!"

She came back down and pressed herself too him, abandoning the tender intimacy of before as she rode him hard at a frenzied, galloping pace. Again and again they crashed together. Again and again they clutched, panted, and squeezed. Such was their rigor that neither had the breath to kiss; they panted for the air feeding the fires of their coupling. Asklepios drove himself between her soft thighs, filling her body over and over. No discomfort could distract him, for what was the burning in his lungs or the cramping in his legs next to the rousing glory of mating with Medusa?

At last, his efforts culminated as Medusa tensed in a final apex with a piercing, rapturous cry. She collapsed on him, spent. They lay together, bathed in the sweat of their labors, her head resting on his shoulder as they gasped for breath. Idly, he stroked the snakes of her hair, but even they were too exhausted to respond. After a time, their breathing slowed, and his manhood softened and receded from her.

Her voice sounded small. "No hero or god ever gave me such bliss, yet they all took satisfaction when we mated."

"I'm not them."

"I do not understand, Asklepios. I thought you wanted me."

"I did. I do."

"Yet you found no completion in me. Why?"

He closed his eyes without answering.

"You did this before. You lay with a mortal woman." It wasn't a question.

A tear slipped out between his closed eyelids and glided to his ear.

After a while, a light draft blew across them, and she pulled a cloth up to cover their drying bodies before nestling in. His loins ached, but he was used to pain, and a great weariness pulled at him now. He took comfort in the press of her body against his side, her head on his chest, her hand on his belly, and her leg draped over his. His breathing deepened and slowed as sleep took him.

His was a dreamless sleep, unaware of Medusa as she lay awake, softly tracing the long, thick scars on his chest.