Olive Oil

These mother-goddesses recline on thrones made of rough stone covered by crude sheepskin fleece. The expanse of soft behind spreads underneath them, cushioning their fertile bodies. They resolve into one goddess who beckons me forward, her legs parted, inviting me to share the power of her fertility. Naked, I step toward her, my hard penis jutting before me like an exaggerated totem, the symbolic counterpart to her fertile womb. My penis throbs as if angry, veins pulsing visibly, almost grotesquely, along its length. The throne is gone as I step between her legs, our bodies suspended in a void. My penis is close to her, close to being inside of her. I can feel heat radiating out from her vagina, a humidity that spreads outward and makes my head swim. Her fertility is palpable, her body pregnant with the potential for life. I can see beads of milk blooming from her nipples. They drip down across the soft swell of her belly, nurturing droplets that contrast with the oppositional blackness of her pubic hairs.

I step forward and enter her. My penis slides between the soft folds of her labia and into her vagina. I do not "penetrate" her. It is not an act of violence. It belies the image of my penis as an angry throbbing implement. She envelopes me. It is like she is giving birth to me in reverse, my penis slowly being pulled inside her vagina, her womb, instead of a baby being pushed out. This is not fucking, but making love in its most elemental sense: it is a creation. Our act becomes inseparable from birth. My being inside of her is the counterpart to her fertility, the completion of her pregnancy that is always and already happening. Her soft warm body welcomes me deeper and deeper until in an orgasmic flash of pleasure that radiates out from our union, I have become the baby inside her womb. I am my own seed, her body nourishing me.

I startled awake, the images of my dream still dancing across the insides of my eyes. I was covered in sweat and my back felt hot. I'd clearly been roasting there a little longer than I intended, though upon inspection it didn't feel like I'd burned. I realized that the others on the beach had left, and I was more than a little relieved. The strange dream had made me self-conscious. The birth-sex cycle of the dream and the unmistakable eroticizing of motherhood felt a little taboo. I put my hand on the front of my pants and was a little surprised to discover that I had not ejaculated in my sleep, but I still had an erection and now that I'd overstayed my welcome in the sun, it was probably time to pack up and head to the apartment. I was thankful that they'd left so that I could do this without the worry of their eyes scoping out my embarrassment. It only took me 5 minutes to don my shirt, hat, sunglasses, and shoes, and to pack my towel and book in my backpack. I took a swig of water from the second bottle before tucking that into my bag and set out walking towards the path.

By the time I reached the shade of the trees and thick vegetation, my erection had subsided somewhat. Having spent most of the last hour or two thinking of sex, I knew I'd need to masturbate when I got back to the apartment and I hoped my dad wouldn't be around. About 20 meters up the path, but well before it's halfway mark, I came across a scooter that had not been there when I'd arrived. I'd just decided it must have been from the group on the beach when I heard a noise to my right, so I was only half surprised when a woman emerged from behind a tree. She was smoothing down her long skirt and that and the startled and embarrassed look on her face suggested she'd just been peeing back there. I recognized her as the younger woman from the beach. Now that I was closer to her, I could see that she was prettier than I'd thought, though also older. I guessed she was perhaps late-20s, too old to be the daughter of either of the other two women. Perhaps a younger sister. She still seemed too young to be a mother, but definitely still possible given the young age at which many Greek women had children. I smiled and said hello in Greek, one of the handful of words I knew, as I approached the scooter. She said hello back and I passed her by.

I wasn't more than 10 meters beyond her when I heard her say something. I was pretty sure she had sworn, given that this was one of the only other words I knew. I turned back and saw her kneeling next to the bike examining a tire. She stood up and looked at it angrily for a few minutes before seeing me looking back. She said something in Greek and gestured at her bike. She said something else and seemed to wait for me. As I walked back over she repeated the second phrase and held out her cell phone. When I got closer to her I told her that I didn't speak Greek and, nearly exhausting my repertoire of Greek, asked if she spoke English. She looked startled and after a pause, told me no. She pointed at the tire of her bike, which I could now see was flat. She said something before then holding up her phone. She said something that sounded like a question and then gestured to me and to the phone. Her phone looked dead and I guessed she was asking to use mine. I shook my head and said "No phone," to her. I had not bothered to acquire a Greek phone, which I'd already come to regret on a few occasions. She looked frustrated, but I thought it was because she understood that I didn't have a phone. I asked her if she wanted help with the scooter, using some words but also gestures. She shrugged and gave me the universal gesture for "be my guest."

Squatting down I took a look at the tire. I ran my hand and eyes along it until I found the culprit, a nail that had punctured the tire, likely from the construction site at the road at the top of the path. I pulled the nail out and showed it to her. She looked angry, but the flash of her eyes and her frown animated her pretty face and I had to make an effort not to smile. I tried to ask if she had a patch kit, but she didn't seem to understand. There was a box on the back of the scooter and I gestured for her to open it. After a confused moment, she did. I looked through it but found nothing useful, just a helmet, lock and chain, a hand pump that would be useless without a patch, and the owner's manual. I flipped through that but it was entirely in Greek and thus not at all helpful. In one picture, I saw that the seat of the scooter could lift up, so after fiddling around for a minute, I got it up. Instead of a compartment below the seat, there was the gas cap, which was disappointing. Fortunately, as I lowered it back down, the woman must have noticed something because she stopped me and pointed to the underside of the seat itself. There I found a small pouch and in it, a patch kit.

The two of us got to work patching the tire. The language barrier proved challenging in some moments, and irrelevant in others. As we worked, I couldn't help noticing her body. The maroon tank top hugged her chest, and there was often a generous amount of cleavage visible to tantalize me. Though covered by her long skirt, I was still incredibly aware of her legs and butt, both of which would leave their impressions against the fabric often enough to be a distraction. I also had a closer look at her face, and I once more had to revise her age. I now guessed that she was in her mid-30s judging by the faint lines visible at the corners of her eyes. When I saw the ring on her left hand I decided she could be the mother of that one child after-all. This revelation was only slightly disappointing. I was still enjoying working with her; she was pretty and it was a pleasure to help out someone in need. We'd had to turn the scooter over to fix the tire and give ourselves the room to pump it up. We got the tire patched and inflated. Then we checked the pressure to make sure it wasn't leaking. Realizing that we'd been successful, she gave a little shout of joy and hopped up. While the sight of her breasts bouncing was certainly delicious, it was the look of joy in her eyes that startled me; whereas anger had animated her face, joy made her gorgeous. I'd been trying to pull the bike upright again and her declaration of success had so startled me that I bungled the job and the bike started to tip over again. She tried to help me wrestle it back up but we failed and somehow both ended up in a heap on the ground.

I could feel the weight of her body on top of me. I was on my back, staring at the top of her head, her face pushed into my collar. I was surprised, not only because we'd ended up stacked like that, but because, god damn it, I had an erection again and it was pressing right into her flat stomach! I had no doubt she could feel it pressing into her any less than I cold feel her breasts pressing into me, a fact which did not escape notice by my penis, causing it to retain its hardness even through my intense embarrassment. Neither of us moved. I could feel her breath on my chest, the hairs of her head tickling my nose. After a solid few minutes, when it was clear that nothing was changing, she rolled off of me and lay on her back next to me. We didn't look at each other, but I heard her whisper thank you in Greek. I responded with the Greek equivalent of your welcome, which really did exhaust my Greek. I thought she was probably thanking me for helping with the scooter, but also hoped it was somehow connected to my enduring erection. I did a body scan and found that it was indeed still erect, once again causing a little tent in my shorts.

I was mentally steeling myself to get up and slink away in embarrassment, erection and all, when she shifted position, rolling back towards me. Her mouth met mine as she lay half way across my body, her right leg caressing mine. She mashed her lips into mine, parting them slightly so that her wet tongue could slide through. Our tongues touched, dancing. Switching from passive recipient to active participant, I pushed her tongue aside with my own and licked the inside of her teeth. Her hand slid down my chest and began to fondle my hard penis through the thin fabric of my swimsuit. In response, I brought my hand up and cupped her right breast, her left being pressed against my chest. We broke the kiss and for the first time since falling, looked at each other. Her eyes twinkled and mine burned. It was clear what we wanted, there was little need for words at this point.

She stopped fondling me long enough to slide her hand down my shorts and begin stroking me. I relished the touch of her hand on my penis. Her skin as soft, and she caressed me with gentle confidence. It was a bit like finally scratching an itch that had been a bother for days. I wanted her badly and it was getting hard to be patient. We continued kissing as she stroked me. Since I'd been wound up for hours and hadn't found release in around a week, I wasn't sure how much of her focused attention I could take. Her bag was on my left and I could see her towel spilling out. I reached over and grabbed it. Breaking our kiss long enough to sit up, I did my best to lay the towel on the ground behind her before rolling us over on to it. She took her hands from my pants and with both hands, pulled my shirt up over my head. I followed suit by removing her tank top. Underneath she wore her swimsuit top still. She sat up enough to untie the strings of the top and I pulled it away, exposing her breasts. They were relatively large breasts; more than a handful, but surprisingly firm for someone that I suspected of being a mother at least once over. Her breasts were noticeably paler than the rest of her body. On the one hand, this was surprising since, as a Greek, I would have expected her complexion to more olive. On the other hand, it was also not that surprising since, as a Greek, she likely never sunbathed topless. Her nipples were a delicate pink that made my mouth water.

I wanted to spend hours caressing her stomach, breasts, and neck, to tease her nipples between my fingers and feel the delicious firmness of each orb in the palm of my hands, but I was too hungry. Instead, I leaned down and sucked her left breast into my mouth, nipple and all. She gave a short gasp when I did this, followed by a sharper one when my tongue began to flick her quickly hardening nipple. Her skin was salty from sweat and sea, though she also tasted vaguely like olives. I stopped sucking her left breast and switched to her right. This time I gave her nipple a little nibble. I could feel her pressing her hips into me as I did this. I'd hardly satisfied myself with her beautiful breasts when she deftly flipped me over onto my back. Somehow I managed to stay on the towel though. She began kissing my chest and neck. Our mouths met again for a passionate if brief romp.

After breaking our kiss, she shifted off of me. I was afraid it was over, but instead she began to pull down my swimsuit. My hard member popped free of the suit and she yanked them down and off my legs in a swift motion. My cock stood straight out from my body, its rigidity fighting against the weight of all the blood trapped in its length, keeping in engorged. I was hoping that she would put her lips on me, that she would suck me into her hot wet mouth and flick me with her tongue. I'd been told by a Greek friend that Greek women were conservative and not particularly into giving oral sex, so I wasn't particularly expecting it, simply hoping. Then again, I'd also been told that this same conservatism made it all but impossible that I'd be doing anything other than furtively masturbating on this trip, and there I was with this gorgeous women whose name I didn't even know. Unfortunately, she didn't bring her mouth to me. Instead, she resumed stroking me with her hand. After a little while, she added her second hand, sometimes using it to stroke the shaft of my cock, sometimes using it to massage my balls. She looked gorgeous sitting next to me, her breast swaying slightly as she fondled and stroked me.

I was beginning to think that this was going to be the extent of our encounter. I had to admit that this disappointed me more than a little as I was literally aching to be inside of her, but I was also thoroughly enjoying what she was doing and had no intention of throwing a wrench in things by trying to get laid. Still, with every stroke she seemed to ratchet up how horny I felt. I reached out with my right hand and began stroking her leg. Pretty soon I'd worked it under her skirt. Her thighs were smooth as I slid my hand up until I found the bottom of her bathing suit. I began rubbing my fingers against the crotch of her suit. I could feel the humidity of her sex through the fabric. Slowly I located the edge of her suit and slipped my finger underneath. I could feel the sparse tight curls of her pubic hair matted to her body from swimming, sweat, desire, or all three. I located the slit of labia and began gently rubbing my finger along its length. She moaned softly in appreciation though what I was doing didn't seem enough to distract her from pleasuring me. The longer I stroked her, the slicker my finger became, and the more it slid between the lips of her pussy until I was up to the first knuckle of my finger. Her eyes had closed by now and her strokes were becoming less focused.

I removed my fingers from under her skirt and her eyes popped open. She watched as I brought my finger up to my mouth and gave it a good suck. As the salty tang of her pussy danced on my tongue and its heady smell fogged my brain, I knew I had to taste her fully. She'd paused her stroking to watch as I did this, and I took the opportunity to sit up and kiss her. As we kissed, I imagined she might catch a hint of herself on my tongue. We continued kissing and I maneuvered her down on to the blanket. I began kissing down her body, starting at the neck I kissed over her breasts, down her stomach, and to the line of her skirt. I didn't stop kissing and licking her even as I brought my hands up to the waist band and began to pull. After what might have been a slight hesitation, she lifted her butt from the ground and allowed me to slide her skirt and suit bottoms down. As she'd done, I slide them all the way down and off until she lay before me naked. She seemed a bit shy and turned away slightly as if to hid herself from me. I frowned and began kissing her legs, starting at her ankles and moving my way up until I'd straightened her back out and was licking my way up the inside of her now parted thighs.

I lifted my eyes as I kissed the inside of her legs and beheld her pussy for the first time. Her pubic hair, a reddish brown that matched the hair on her head and that I guessed was her natural color, only covered her mound lightly. Her labia were puffy and parted from my previous finger work. The smell of her pussy filled my nose. It was intoxicating: raw, powerful, musky, sweet. For a second my brain flashed back to the strange dream I'd had earlier and I thought I recognized the smell of this woman's pussy as the primal smell of fertility, of womanhood. I savored the smell, just as second later I savored the taste of her on my tongue as I gently but fully licked the length of her slit. I licked her again and again, letting me tongue relax and flatten against the fleshy lips of her pussy. After a few moments I changed tactics and, making my tongue stiff, began probing her more deeply. First I explored the spaces between her inner and outer labia, doing my best to caress every millimeter of her flesh. Next I slid my tongue inside of her as far as I could go, burying my face in her mound. I circled my tongue around as if I were licking the inside rim of an ice cream cone, though this was far more delicious a dessert. Soon I began darting my tongue in and out of her. I could feel her lifting her hips gently to meet me.

Wanting to make sure I was not misreading her pleasure, I pulled my head from between her legs enough to glance at her face. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were parted and she was breathing heavily. As I returned my mouth to her quickly, so as not to prolong the interruption, I also looked at her pussy. She was certainly more flushed than before, and I thought I could make out the little round nub of her clitoris pushing from beneath its hood. Perfect, I thought. I went back to flattening my tongue and taking long licks from bottom to top, though this time I gave my tongue a little extra flick at the end to stimulate her clit. Soon my tongue read her clit like Braille, and each lick was punctuated by a slight moan that sailed to me from across her gently writhing body. I tried to slowly increase the contact my tongue made with her clit so as not to overload her.

Soon my caution was unnecessary as her moaning and hip thrusting increased in intensity, both things I took as a sign that my tongue was very much welcome on her clitoris. I focused my attention entirely on her clitoris. First I worked my tongue around it in little circles, making sure to always graze it with the edge of my tongue. Then I let my tongue flutter across it more directly. I kept my caresses light in the beginning, but slowly began to make more contact with her until I was stimulating her more vigorously. As my tongue continued to lash her clitoris with ever increasing intensity, her body lifting higher off the ground as she writhed in pleasure, I brought my left arm under her thigh and my hand up to grab onto her hips. Whereas before I'd had my hands on the inside of her thighs to help me keep them open, my new grip on her hips helped me hold on as she bucked and keep my tongue in contact with her clit.

I also brought my left arm down and under my chin. Now that I was concentrating my tongue on her clit, her pussy was wide open to my fingers. Slowly I inserted my index finger inside her, coating it with her natural lubricants. After a moment I added my middle finger. I gently massaged the inside of her vagina with my fingers, starting with the top wall and working my way down and around. When I got back to the top of her vagina, I began more firmly massaging her, pressing the pads of my fingers into her slick walls searching for exactly the right spot to press on. My fingers pushed in just on the other side of her pubic bone and pressed against some spongy flesh. I began to rhythmically massage this spongy tissue as if I were beckoning her towards me. Her writhing kicked up a notch.