The Erotic Adventures of the Olympian Gods
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by Eleanor Tremaine
Category: Erotica/Erotic Fantasy/Fantasy
Description: A Sexy, Snazzy Retelling of the World's First Dirty Stories! The Roman gods and godesses were a randy lot and could generally be found passing their immortal lives doing each other in every way their fertile imaginations could dream up. Only Eleanor Tremaine could present their erotic adventures in a style that is at once as hot and explicit as today--but at the same time true to the style of the original legends. The chapters include: Daphne--The Virgin Laurel, Europa and the Bull, Narcissus and Echo, Pyramus, Thisbe, and the Hole in the Wall, Venus Does Olympus, Venus and Adonis, Salamacis and Hermaphroditus, Pluto Pleasures Proserpine, Cupid's Psyche Gets Shagged, A Poet's Footnote, Ariadne Goes Wild, Orpheus Goes to Hell, and many other racy Olympian encounters.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: March 2008
3 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [133 KB]
Reading time: 78-110 min.
CHAPTER I. DAPHNE--THE VIRGIN LAUREL
Apollo had fooled around a lot before he caught his first glimpse of Daphne. But with that first sighting, he fell madly in love. The electric currents that burst through his scrotum were ignited by both love and lust. Lust alone had sent a delightful current to his gonads heretofore. But this new additional feeling produced an erection like nothing he had felt before.
I'll tell you how this situation came about.
Daphne was a nymph, nearly divine, being the daughter of Peneus, the river-god.
When Apollo caught sight of her, it was not blind lust that quickened his libido. It was the malicious mischievous prank of Cupid that instigated the love-struck phallic rising.
Apollo, who was a credible archer had caught sight of Cupid who was idly fluttering about, flexing his bowstring.
"Hey, you snot-nosed brat," grumbled Apollo. "What the hell do you think you're doing with weapons that should be wielded only by big, strong he-gods like me? Why don't you just content yourself with lighting little love-fires that will make mortal men horny and mortal women hotties, you little twerp?"
The tiny winged god did not take the sun god's taunt well.
He answered, "Shoot your arrows any fucking way you want, Goldilocks. You can take your potshots at mortal creatures 'til the cows come home. I am about to wing a god. So, small I may be, yet I am greater than you in the long run."
With that, the little imp fluttered his wings, rose up in the air, and landed on Mount Parnassus. He dug into his quiver and pulled out two arrows, arrows with opposite powers.
One of the arrows was golden, with a sharp gleaming point. It was the arrow that arouses love, lust, and amatory madness. The other arrow was blunt and lead tipped and quenches the mad passions of love.
The scamp fit the lead-tipped missile to his bowstring and shot it into the heart of Peneus' daughter. And quick as a flash, he shot the other arrow right into Apollo's ripe libido.
The nymph was aware of the horny god who was ogling her and took off into the woods. She now had no interest whatsoever in men or male gods. She went traipsing after the sylvan creatures with the mad abandon of Artemis, goddess of the hunt.
Daphne ran to her father for protection. But Peneus was far from sympathetic to her disdain of love.
"Father," she pleaded. "It's not enough that mortal men chase me with sex-crazed eyes. Now there's even a god who has the hots for me."
"Wonderful, wonderful, child," Peneus replied. "Like most mature creatures, I'd like a bunch of grandsons. Mortal little buggers would be fine. But if you could get laid by an Olympian, too, once in a while, that would be even better."
"Daddy, daddy," she cried. "I don't want to get laid at all. You're a demigod. You could grant me eternal virginity."
She put her arms around her father's neck.
"Please, Daddy. Please!"
How could the demigod refuse his lovely daughter's request? He yielded, although he could not help but regret that his favorite child would not give birth to heirs, be they mortal or immortal.
However the gift of virginity Peneus had granted to his daughter did nothing to mollify Apollo's phallus. The god stalked the nymph wherever she fled.
There was no aspect of the nymph that did not stir the god's ardor. Sweet talk had always worked for him before, and he couldn't believe it wasn't turning the trick for him now.
"You are such a doll," he enthused. "I love your hair, your eyes, your fingers..."
"Slow down," he urged. "Lambs flee the wolf. Deer run from the lion. Doves fly away from the eagle. But I am not like the wolf, the lion, or the eagle. My pursuit is the pursuit of true love. Slow down and let's talk."
Daphne looked over her shoulder even as she kept up her brisk pace. The groin of the god was graced with an aroused member, betraying that the pursuer's words were hollow. To her, he was the wolf, the lion, the eagle.
He pleaded to her with honeyed tongue.
"I worry, fair nymph, that you will stumble and fall. You could bruise yourself, or worse, break one or both of your winsome legs. If you would only slow down, I promise I will too. Better yet, stop altogether and I'll do the same. Stop and ask me who I am. I'm not some loathsome mountain grill, no ignorant shepherd who smells like sheep-dip. If you would only let me tell you who I am you would give in. My father is Jupiter himself. I am Apollo, the god of music and of everything that is beautiful and wonderful. I discovered the art of medicine and healing herbs. But there is not an herb on this earth that can cure my lovesickness for you. Stop, damn it. I'm the handsomest creature in creation. Girls go wild about me. Just think of what you might be missing..."
While the god was both running and sweet-talking at the same time, he realized his words were being wasted on the empty air. Because Daphne was outrunning him.
As she distanced herself, the winds bared her legs and set her gown a-flutter. Her gorgeous hair streamed out in charming disarray.
Apollo's eyes and phallus were enchanted at the lovely sight.
He sped after her, urged on by hope, lust, and love. She picked up even greater speed urged on by fear.
At last, being a mere nymph and not a goddess, Daphne was overcome with fatigue. She spied a stream ahead and stopped to address the flowing water which was, of course, her father's domain.
"O Daddy, Daddy," she cried. "Help me. You promised me. You promised me. Take away my beauty that has brought me to this wretched situation."
The words were hardly out of her mouth when she felt a heaviness in her arms and legs. Her soft, warm skin began to change to bark. Her flowing hair transformed into leaves. Her arms became branches. Her gorgeous feet burrowed into the earth, becoming roots.
She was no longer a nymph, but she was still beautiful nonetheless.
Apollo was no stranger to metamorphoses, and loved Daphne in her new form. He placed his hand on her trunk and felt her heart still aflutter beneath the location where her breasts had been. He caressed the limbs and kissed the wood. He pressed his phallus into the crevice where her pudenda had been. And in an ecstasy, he made love to the laurel tree.
In his divine voice, he sang: "You cannot now be my sweetheart. But you shall forever be my tree. I shall wear a wreath of you in my hair forevermore. My lyre and my quiver will be bedecked with your wreath. Whenever an athlete or a general prevails, he will have a laurel wreath placed upon his brow."
When Apollo returned to the halls of Olympus, his fellow gods were laughing at his arrival.
"What's the big joke?" he asked.
When the laughter died down, Jupiter slapped him on the back.
"Well, Apollo," he chuckled. "All of us up here on Olympus were watching you fucking a tree. Funniest thing any of us had ever seen."
"You must be mistaken," quoth Apollo. "I was just there visiting the country."
Jupiter could never resist a good pun, and answered: "Right, Blue Eyes. And I'm sure you will visit the cunt-tree again and again."
The halls of Olympus rang with divine laughter at the joke of the king of the gods.
Apollo took no offense. He strummed his lyre and sang a love song addressed to his Daphne ... his Cunt-tree.
The gods' laughter turned to tears as they realized that Apollo truly was still in love. And how sad it was that his love was a tree, and not a nymph.