Tethys - Growing The Tribe Pt. 01

Phoebe scoots closer and gently strokes her thigh as I continue to stroke her cunt. "Sweetheart, you're the one who has the blessing of the Goddess, not your parents. You've gone this long just fine without watching us, and I don't think it will hurt you if we keep that private. I watch you because you're beautiful, and you want me to. But not everybody is blessed like you."

"I love to watch... fuck, I want to... watch... me fuck... watch people... ahhhh, FUCK!" A sudden spasm overtakes her, her eyes slam shut, and she emits a half sigh, half squeal, half scream. Then she opens her mouth and takes in great gulps of air.

"Fuck me, fuck me, keep fucking me! Look at me, look at me when I cum, look at my face! Look at my pussy! MOM! Look at my pussy when I cum! OOOOoooh, fuck!"

I keep thrusting the dildo in and out of her, with no particular artistry, her head flails back and forth violently, and Phoebe, as requested, leans in and looks closely at her pussy as the shaft of the dildo disappears deeper inside, and then withdraws. It's coated in slime, and the entrance bubbles a little as the fluid mixes with air in the churn action of the fuck. I flick the chain to the side from time to time to keep it from being drawn in, her gasps become wails, and then a long drawn out moan as she seems to go into rigor mortis for a few seconds. Then she's spent. Phoebe looks at me and smiles, with moistened eyes.

Among her other traits, Hera is a coffee snob, and the three of us relax in the kitchen with a hot and delightful golden roast of fresh gourmet beans. After the dramatic and erotic scene earlier, this feels peaceful, and almost quaint. Two naked young women joined by a primly dressed matron calmly chat at the table as if it's a perfectly normal social gathering. Sex is still in the air, though, and Hera wants to keep it the main topic.

"So, Mom," she continues, "I agree with you that what just happened was a beautiful thing, and sex between two women is a spiritual experience. Does that mean you've had that experience yourself? Have you ever had sex with a woman?"

Phoebe smiles and shakes her head. "No, Baby, your father is the only person I've ever had sex with. He takes care of me, and I take care of him, and I'm happy with that."

"Aren't you curious about what other people would be like?" Hera probes.

"Of course," her mother confesses, but I see it. I watch porn, sometimes with your father and sometimes by myself. And I see what it's like when you have sex with different people. Yes it is beautiful, and yes, it makes me happy. But I'm happy with experiencing it through you and through my imagination. It wouldn't be the same if I were to do it in the real world."

My own curiosity gets the better of me. "Phoebe, you say Hera has the gift of the Goddess. I assume you're talking about one of the Greek goddesses, but which one? Do you believe in the old Greek religion, or have some sort of pagan spirituality?"

Phoebe takes a thoughtful sip from her cup, a blue-green glazed porcelain that Hera made while she was still learning the ceramic arts. She puts it down with a sigh.

"I'm a Christian woman. I was raised in the Eastern Church, and never doubted its teachings. I didn't even know anything about the ancient Greek religion until I met my husband. The old Greeks weren't really consistent in their religious beliefs any more than modern Christians are. The religion was different in each city and each region, and changed over time. It was influenced by the Egyptians and the Persians and the Phoenicians, and then by the Romans, and later even by the Jews and Christians. The old tales and myths were really parables. They weren't meant to be literally believed, they were illustrations of deeper truths about humanity and morality. As the culture and the morality changed, the myths changed too.

"So the Goddess that blesses my Hera is not any particular person or identity. There's some of the old Hera, there's a lot of Aphrodite, there's some of Athena. But there have been goddesses in many civilizations and tribes, and there's an essence to my Hera that transcends all of the old myths. She carries a deep connection with her femininity, an eroticism in her core, and a nurturing nature that is so profoundly spiritual. She doesn't follow society's rules about sexual morality, she transcends them. Her eroticism, her sexuality, is such a deeply embedded, pervasive part of her soul, so much a part of who she is, and such a loving force, that conventional rules of morality can't apply to it. Her sexuality is its own morality, and and when she expresses it, it's a beautiful and good morality. She didn't get it from me, or from her father. We're very conventional people. In her, it comes from a deeper source, and it's a spiritual force. We think of God and Jesus as men, but that's conventional thinking. That's how our culture approaches Divinity, but that's not how Divinity will always approach us. For Hera, the divinity is the Goddess."

It takes me a moment to process all this before I answer. "Phoebe," I say with conviction. "I do not believe you are one bit conventional."

Hera smiles broadly. "I love my Mom and Dad."

The conversation drifts, as conversations will, and we cover details of our own artistic styles, my paintings, her pottery, the vagaries of the art business and the challenges of making a living in it, and friends and family. The time seems right to follow up.

"I'm going to be seeing Taylor tomorrow night. Would you like to meet him? I think he'd adore you."

Phoebe grins. "Say yes, Baby. You need a decent man in your life. Leave that dumb old Patrick and Vicki behind!"

If Taylor were within earshot, his ears would definitely be burning, and his face would be deep red. Men have very little idea of the depth to which women talk about them when they have a chance, and I'm sure they're usually better off not knowing. Not that anything I say is critical, far from it. He's a great guy -- he's good looking, he's smart, he's creative, he's patient and understanding of my quirks, and where he doesn't understand at least he's tolerant. He's mildly athletic, he doesn't smoke and drinks less than moderately. He's also very sexy. I notice Phoebe pays special attention to this part of the conversation.

Of course the topic inevitably comes around to something I find quite interesting, and hope Hera will too: Taylor's cock. For most men, I'd probably not be particularly descriptive. We all know what a cock looks like. I might say something like "it's nice," or "it's THIS big!" But Taylor's cock requires a little more extensive description. It's got a somewhat unusual shape. It's plenty big, a little bigger than average I guess, but it's width is what makes it stand out. Not thickness from top to bottom, but very wide from side to side. The top surface is almost flat, I call it "the flight deck." It not only gives him a unique appearance, but the sensation is like nothing else I've felt. Hera seems intrigued.

"He used to be kind of sensitive about it," I explain. "When he was younger some girls made fun of it and really embarrassed him, so he thought he was unattractive because of it. But I think he's over that now. I love it, and my friends Sonia and Jo thought it was wonderful when they experienced it a couple of days ago."

Phoebe leans forward, a fascinated look on her face. Hera laughs. "Mom, for someone who's never fucked anybody but Dad, and claims he gives you all you need, you sure have a fascination with other people's sexuality!"

"I'm only interested in how it works for your happiness, Sweetie," Phoebe smiles sanguinely. "And one of the things that my relationship with your father gives me is the freedom to use my imagination as much as I want!"

It's soon settled. I call Taylor and tell him to expect an extra mouth to feed tomorrow night. He doesn't ask for details, but I can tell he's fighting the desire to. He'll just have to wait.

The painting is still waiting when I get home, and for now I have no other social engagements to attend to. I work far into the night, starting the background wash. Slowly, the sky, the sea, and a reddish-brown headland take on a rough existence. I feel more focused than I have since I began this project. I feel the Goddess within me as I work, expressing her desires through my brush. Hera? Me? Does the Goddess even need a name? Is she the same Goddess for the both of us? Does it matter? The inspiration exists regardless.

I shower sleepy but happy, serene, swirling shadows of color and dance rhythms bouncing behind my vision, my soapy body a tingling cocoon of pleasure. My hands find the slippery folds of joy between my thighs, and as I knead and pull and stroke myself, my mind plays a slide show of the past week -- A wonderful sensual evening with Taylor capped by mind-blowing orgasms from that unique and beautiful cock, Carl fucking Taylor's cum out of me the next morning during our workout, then fucking me again later at Hippie Hollow, with crowds watching and Joanne capturing the movie... I get out the the shower as quickly as I can -- dreams, memories and fantasies are free, but water is expensive.

In bed I continue the pleasant review. Taylor again on Sunday night, Henri and Sonia Monday afternoon, working out with Carl on Monday night, getting strong and getting fucked well; meeting Hera on Tuesday morning, the orgy with Taylor, Carl, Joe, Jo, Henri and Sonia Tuesday evening, petite little Megan the Pizza girl getting an eyeful of Taylor and I that night -- we need to at least give her another thrill, I know she enjoyed that first one; Carl and beautiful sensual, sexual muscles, and the rocket cock, on Wednesday night, and then Hera again today. My fingers work as vigorously as my imagination, and just as my hips are bucking in orgasmic fury, I'm thinking of the expression on Taylor's face when he sees Hera for the first time tomorrow night. The introduction will be sweet for both of them, I'm sure.

Friday goes by quickly. Everything seems to be running on rails. I'm creative and productive, the painting is coming together well, my noon run is sweaty but refreshing, and when I put down my brushes and rags, and shower away the smell of linseed oil, the anticipation has my face crinkled into a steady smile. A quick text to Hera, she'll be ready. I dress in my usual summer style -- as little as possible. No panties, no bra, light pullover. It's more than anyone should need.

Hera's house isn't too far away, only a ten minute drive, mostly south. I laugh when I see her. Her outfit is almost identical to mine: no panties, no bra, light pullover. And flip flops. We kiss at her door, a nice, wet lingering kiss that quickly becomes more passionate than I'd planned. Until recently, I had thought my attraction to Sonia was an anomaly. I really like men. But Hera is now another exception, and earlier in the week I'd had no difficulty at all pleasing and being pleased by Jo. Maybe I really am more versatile than I had given myself credit for. Maybe there are more ways to expand my horizons.

My car rarely has passengers, but that doesn't mean the passenger seat is usually unoccupied. I've written a lot of words, but nowhere yet in any of them have I confessed to being a bit of a slob. Hey, I've seen worse. It's mostly receipts, a half empty water bottle, a couple of gum wrappers, an empty grocery bag... The junk quickly goes into the bag, which gets tossed into the back seat. Hera takes the now-unoccupied passenger seat, and off we go. We make a gas stop along the way, which gives me a chance to make the car slightly more presentable for my guest. My old Hyundai isn't glamorous, but it's reliable, and most valuable of all this time of year, the air conditioner works.

It takes about half an hour to get to Taylor's house through traffic. Most of the way, Hera is resting her hand on my thigh. It feels nice. Our conversation is general, gentle, almost intimate. I tell her a little more about Taylor, although there seems to be not much we haven't covered already. I talk about my other partners, Carl, Sonia, Henri, and Joe and Jo. Hera seems impressed.

"And here I thought I was the bold adventurous one," she laughs. "And you're telling me you just stumbled into these encounters?"

"Maybe 'stumbled' isn't quite the right word," I muse. "There was a bit of opportunism involved, but when I first started seeing Carl, and then Taylor, I sure didn't expect things to open up like this!"

"Wow!" Hera withdrew into thought.

We pull into the cul-de-sac, and then into the driveway of the single story stucco house with the boxwood hedge and the river rock front yard. As Hera opens her side, I dash around and grab her hand, then lead her to the screen door. It opens without so much as a squeak. The front door is unlocked. I gesture Hera to silence, then slowly and quietly open it to let us in. I hear water running in the kitchen, and lead Hera to the left, into the living room. I doff my clothing, and motion for Hera to do the same. We smile, naked and expectant. Catlike, we slide down the hall towards the kitchen. Taylor is standing over the sink, washing a big aluminum pot. He's wearing a water-spotted T-shirt and jogging shorts. He's oblivious.

I pull Hera into the kitchen, and we stand behind him. "Young man!" I bark. "You know there are rules in this house and you're not following them!"

Taylor starts, dropping the pot, the splash soaking the front of his shirt. He is facing us, dripping, before I finish my scold. His eyes -- those eyes! Those beautiful deep green eyes have captivated me since the first time my own met them. They're staring, open wide, as is his mouth, as he takes in with gradual comprehension two gorgeous naked Greek goddesses standing before him, one olive-bronze and muscular, one pale and slender, two pairs of small but firm breasts, two shaven cunts, one with a jeweled ring hanging from the clitoral hood, two slender waists, two smiling and expectant faces. I glance at Hera, and her eyes are almost as wide as Taylor's.

"You know what the rule is," I continue, although it's hard to sound serious over my barely suppressed laughter. "As long as I'm in this house, no clothes are allowed!"

I step forward, kneel in front of Taylor, and pull his shorts down. Luckily, he's not wearing underwear to create a bigger obstacle, and his cock bounces free. If the surprise shrank it at all, his appreciative view of the two sexy women before him has sent it into instantaneous recovery, and it's already expanded enough to begin showing signs of its flight deck.

I stand and grab the bottom of his shirt. It's a bit more troublesome, as the wet cotton clings to his skin. He returns to his senses, though, and lends a hand, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Now the three of us are equally naked.

"What do you think, Hera?" I flop his rapidly hardening cock up and down for her. She grins, and stares silently for a moment. "A work of art," she finally replies. I want to sculpt it.

"Don't put it in your kiln," I laugh. "It's plenty hot enough now! Come over here and introduce yourself."

I release the lovely shaft and gesture for Hera to take hold. "Hera, this is Taylor, my gorgeous boyfriend. Taylor, this is Hera. She's a goddess of erotic love."

Taylor is still speechless, but Hera takes the introduction in stride. She hooks her index and middle fingers under the expanded mushroom head, and her thumb strokes the tip. She bows down slightly towards it, and intones "Hello Taylor, I'm Hera. I'm so pleased to meet you. I hope we become very good friends." She raises her head and looks into his magnificent eyes. "Hello Taylor, I'm Hera. I'm so pleased to meet you. I hope we become very good friends!"

I laugh, and Taylor's mute spell ends. "Hi, Hera," he chuckles. "I guess we're off to a good start here."

Hera looks down again and examines the cock closely, moving it back and forth, up and down, stroking and tugging, tilting her head to view it from multiple angles. "I have never seen a dick like this in my life," she breathes. "It's otherworldly."

Taylor seems less pleased by this adjective. "So I guess it is a little like something out of a freakshow, isn't it."

"Freakshow!" I interject harshly. "Sweetheart, you are a god, and you're in the company of two goddesses, and this world is about to experience an act of pure divinity that will shake it to its very foundations!"

"Well put, my dear," Hera giggles. "Taylor, it's beautiful, you should be proud to own it, and I feel honored to be able to experience it."

With those words, Taylor's face relaxes visibly, but his cock experiences the opposite reaction, bumping up even higher, wider, and harder than ever. Hera gives Taylor's body a thorough gaze, concluding "The rest of your body's gorgeous too. Tethys has told me what a great guy you are, so you're obviously blessed with looks, brains, and character."

"And cooking skills too, I hope," I interrupt. "I'm not trying to break up this special encounter, lover, but what's for dinner?"

Hera releases her grip on his cock, walks up to me and gives me a big hug. She's beaming. Taylor is bright red, but his smile is pretty big, too.

"Well, you didn't say who our dinner guest was, man or woman, naked or clothed, carnivore, omnivore, or herbivore, so I kind of had to wing it. There's a pinto bean chili here in a quinoa gravy base, with ground beef on the side, which can be added in optionally, stir fried collards in olive oil, sweet potatoes, and a salad of bock choy, sweet beets and red lettuce with boiled eggs on the side, optional of course, and a peanut sauce dressing. Oh, and, um... chocolate chip cookies."

"Damn, mister, you've been hanging out with Henri on the side when I'm not looking, haven't you!" Henri is the lover I see least often, he's a master chef, a restaurant owner, and a very busy man. He's also Sonia's main partner.

"I have to admit he's an inspiration," Taylor shrugs.

The meal is delicious, made even more so by the state of cheerful nakedness we share. The conversation is free-flowing, even though the drink consists solely of tea or coffee. Hera abstains completely from alcohol, which surprises me given her seeming adoption of so much of the Mediterranean tradition, not to mention the casual presence of marijuana in her house.

"What can I say, I love coffee!" she explains. "And alcohol just dulls my senses, I find I'm far more erotic and orgasmic without it."

"That works for me," smiles Taylor, and Hera responds quickly. "It will!"

Hera and Taylor are quickly warming to each other, and I'm glad to be part of it. They are finding a lot in common. Taylor has never thought of himself as artistic, although I've reminded him often that the kind of software development he does requires a lot of creative imagination. He appreciates art, and talent, and he's always been enthusiastic about my work. He's intensely interested in Hera's ceramics, and it's clear that she enjoys telling him about it. But, as I've come to learn about her, she will always, eventually, steer the conversation back towards her favorite topic, sex.

"My art has always had sort of erotic undertones," she nods, after a digression about the difficulty of sculpting clothing compared to bare skin. "I've always preferred to do nudes, and I like having them in at least an implicit sexual context. But I think it's been getting more brazen lately, and I'm getting tempted to turn it into hard core porn. The idea of porcelain figurines fucking just totally appeals to me! It might just be my own desperation showing. My boyfriend and my girlfriend both broke up with me a couple of months ago, so they could be with each other. It pissed me off. They didn't want to be polyamorous any more. Well, fuck them! I do. I've been so desperate for a man I could just scream. I was almost ready to head down to the park and just drag somebody away, probably some homeless guy. All I've had is porn, masturbation, and my dildos. That's not enough. I'm so grateful for meeting you, Tethys, and I'm so glad you're not jealous or territorial, or whatever you call it, and I'm sure glad you're bi!"