The Greeting

I walked slowly down a passage, guided by I know not which spirit but I felt its presence, through a stout wooden door and into a warm, heavily scented, thickly carpeted room, brilliantly lit by a hundred candles. The candles flickered on the gentle draught as the door closed behind me, and smoke wafted from the burning incense, creating a sweet, religious smell.  In the centre of the room lay a table on which you, the Great Cuntularex, were lying, flat on your back and entirely naked, having oil rubbed into your skin by a well-muscled  masseur, whose pleasure in his task could not be concealed by his loincloth. You glanced at me briefly and held out your hand, finger crooked, indicating that I should approach. I directed my gaze to the floor as a mark of respect as I moved slowly towards you.

You asked, ‘How was your journey?’

I replied, ‘Good, Great Cuntularex, thank you.’

‘Are you being well looked after?’

‘I am, Great Cuntularex, thank you.’

I dared then to look at you properly for the first time. Your body was glistening, taught, and plucked entirely hairless in every respect – an affectation that had the effect of emphasising your mons Venus, deliciously long legs, flat belly and pert breasts. Your face, undeniably beautiful, was dominated by piercing blue eyes which penetrated my soul. You were reading me. The overall effect was one of great power, of both will and body. I could see why men and women alike fell easily under your spell.

You turned on your side towards me – there was no spare flesh, you were lean and taught, your breasts daring me to reach out and touch them. I was barely able to resist but resist I did, for I knew that to touch a Goddess was to invite terrible retribution. The masseur feasted his greedy eyes on your divine curved body and oiled his own excitement as he waited for you to resume lying on your back.

You said, ‘If you need anything during your stay, be sure to ask.’

I nodded.

You lay on your back once more and the masseur continued his kneading…

And that was the dream. he awoke erect – hardly surprisingly – and recalled every last joyful moment of it whilst he masturbated gently and sleepily to a magnificent, hard-spurting orgasm.

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