From Victim To Goddess Ch 01

He was nervous, and she liked it.

He was so cute. But of course he was not just cute; he had a hard young body that her husband no longer had... or ever had, really. Actually, it had been a long while since she knew her husband's body in any detail. The last time they had "sex" was on their anniversary last year, but it was in the dark, and more of a yearly traditional bedtime ritual than a romantic encounter. Her husband's body was probably flopped onto that hussy presently for all she knew. But she did not care. All she cared about was making this boy hers... again... fully this time.

"T-take it off?" he asked weakly.

He was standing shirtless in front of her, with his grey eyes pleading for permission and reassurance. His straw-blond hair was tousled from her acute urge to grope and grab him in multiple places at once. He was panting quietly through his full lips that were made a little fuller by her passionate nibbling. His hands paused right above the waistband of his briefs, which brought her attention to his defined abs.

"Yes, of course." She smiled, almost slyly.

She grabbed his hands and pulled him in closer, close enough for both of them to feel the heat emanating from each other's body, but just far enough so that the eager participant threatening to burst forth from his briefs was just a hair-breadth away from touching her. It had all escalated very quickly, from light touches with lips and skin, to the needy/greedy grabbing-petting-devouring. In the midst of all this sensual activity, his eager participant had awoken abruptly, rising to full attention with a rapidity often seen from men so young.

"Or I could take it off for you..." she suggested, smirking.

He gave a nervous smile back, and took one step back to allow room for himself to strip off his last piece of garment. There was a brief hesitant pause before he fumbled a little with his underwear, his nerves and his fully erect member, which was straining against the cottony fabric, both worked together to sabotage a normally easy procedure. But after the momentary struggle, his penis sprang forth with a triumphant bounce, and his briefs slid down easily before being tossed to the side nearby.

He stood there, a young but fully grown man, his athletic chest quietly rising and falling, his sex proud and erect, and yet he hesitated.

"Don't worry, we'll take it slow," she reassured him, knowing exactly what lay underneath his hesitancy. Their last intimate encounter had not lasted very long. But she blamed herself a little, because she herself had been caught up in a youthful frenzy, moving much too quickly, and she knew that a young man's lover must not move things along too quickly, lest things end prematurely.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror. She was in her bra and panties, having disrobed during their foreplay. She liked what she saw. Three months ago she would not have been able to say the same. There was really not that much difference between then and now, on the surface. She may have shed a few more pounds since then, but, really, the difference she saw was seeping outwards from within. Three months ago was when she found out about the infidelity - multiple... Three months ago she was a victim, a former prize, a wife no longer needed, a forty-year-old toy waiting to be discarded. Today when she looked in the mirror she saw an avatar housing a goddess within, a queen who was finally on her rightful throne, a mistress deserving servitude, and a woman deserving pleasure.

"Come help me with mine," she said.

He stepped forward obediently. He fiddled with the bra's closure a little before gently uncovering her breasts. The sudden coolness made her nipples even harder. He delicately threw her bra on the bed. He then proceeded to finish his task and gingerly slipped off her panties. She helped by stepping out of them. He tossed the panties on the bed and stood to admire his handiwork.

He marveled at the sight of her body, as if it was the first time he ever saw her naked, as if it was the first time he ever saw beauty in his lifetime.

"You're so beautiful..." he said with quiet amazement.

She glanced at the mirror again and she saw that she was glowing even more. Her faintly flushed skin caught the light and shone subtly, but the goddess inside her was screaming bright. Her curves seemed curvier, her breasts fuller, her waist tighter, her hips more voluptuous. Her frown lines were smoothened. The small lower abdominal fat pouch she obsessively went to the gym for seemed minuscule now, and she deemed it's existence a sign that she was of a healthy weight, and not anorexic like those poor girls on the cover of magazines. All her imperfections were now perfect. She saw what he saw: she was beautiful. She was not entirely sure of it, but his fully erect penis looked even more engorged now, at the sight of her naked. It also seemed to be pulsating with a restless energy, wanting and needing her attention. At the sight of his abject admiration of her, and because she gave herself permission to be beautiful, she became wetter.

She took his hand and led him to the bed. She climbed aboard first, on top of the covers, and lay on her back, propping her head up with a pillow. She then spread her legs wide and beckoned for him.

"Lick me," she instructed.

He climbed on board and crawled towards her.

"Right here?" he asked like a schoolboy asking his teacher.

She spread open her lips a little and pointed towards her clitoris.

"Start here. Gently first."

He leaned in and took over the task of keeping her vulva spread so that she could rest her hands and enjoy completely.

He began licking her rosebud, gently, as she had instructed. She experienced a warm, wet, light, ticklish pleasure. She let out a soft sigh of satisfaction. It had been a few years since she had experienced the unique pleasure of a man's tongue, and even more years since she had been given oral pleasuring with such willingness, instead of as a hard-fought bargain.

As the gentle lapping of the tongue continued, the sensation gradually became heavier, and the intensity of the pleasure slowly increased as well. He instinctively increased the strength and speed of his tongue to match the shifting phases of pleasure she experienced. He then began including more and more regions of her vulva in his tonguing pattern, and also began to invade deeper and deeper into her vagina, spreading her opening ever wider in the process. He gave attention to each part for a moment, then moved onto the next, with a seemingly random pattern, lovingly attacking whichever part he remembered, lingering for as long as suited his fancy - clitoris, labia, clitoris, inside, labia, inside, clitoris, inside, clitoris... It was not the mark of an experienced lover; it was his first time performing cunnilingus. However, his eager ineptitude gave her a distinct endearing pleasure that fluttered from her heart to her loins. She let him go on like this for a while before she gently positioned his mouth over her clitoris, silently indicating that he should concentrate his efforts there. Her hands remained on his head, with her fingers softly clasping his hair, holding on for imaginary support, as if to brace herself against the onslaught of sensations. She let him perform his sensual task for some time, letting the pleasure build and build inside her.

When she looked down, she saw the top of his head just above the horizon, moving with subtle dips, up and down. The sight of him hard at work to please her, and the sound of him slurping and savoring her added such a rush of emotions and sensations to her already brimming vessel of pleasures that it overwhelmed her a little. She was not used to this. She held on for as long as she could before she had to stop him.

"Let me do you at the same time. Lie back," she said. He did so.

She gave him a pillow to prop his head up, then she climbed over him and placed her sex right over his face, and positioned herself over his. He began eating her again right away.

At his unhesitant and immediate resumption of pleasuring her, she developed a strong urge to ask him a question, even though it meant leaving herself at his mercy. She hesitated for a second, and then she lifted her pelvis up from his face and looked down through the opening of her thighs towards him so that she could read his expression. He looked at her, wondering what the matter was.

"Do you really like my pussy that much?" she asked.

He looked from her eyes back to her vagina, as if to study it carefully before giving an answer.

"I love it. It's beautiful."

Her throat became tight.

"But doesn't it smell? Doesn't it taste bad?"

"It smells lovely, and it's delicious," and he pulled her ass down so he could resume tasting her. At those words, she choked back a quiet sob. She did not know if he was telling the complete truth, but she did not care. To be treated so gently when offering up such an awfully intimate and vulnerable part of herself was just too much sweetness for her to defend against. It had been a very long time since she last felt such achingly delightful giddiness. She called it Love in her youth. Love not just for the other person, but also love for oneself in loving the other and in being loved. She took it all in, and let the warm, soaring feeling shoot through her whole being, so that her whole body was affected, from her head, which floated amongst the clouds, down to her sex, now flowing uncontrollably with honey.

She lunged at his erect penis with unstoppable gratitude and took the whole thing in her mouth, almost all the way down to the hilt, nearly choking on it, but let up a little at the last second before she did. He gasped at the sudden warm, moist, wholly encompassing pleasure.

She made sure it was all tongue, lips, saliva, and no teeth as she bobbed up and down on his shaft fervently. She wanted to give him exquisite pleasure, a reward for his services and a gesture of appreciation.

His sex had remained rigidly at attention through the whole time he was pleasuring her, waiting faithfully for its chance to join the foray. It was a testament to the magic of masculine youth - a precious and fleeting commodity for the male gender, as it is an unfortunate but commonly accepted fact that such power and stamina leaves the man much earlier in years than the woman's taste for such sexual vigor leaves her. A woman can handle and enjoy spectacular and inspirational sex up until the end of her fertile years, and often beyond. And in some women, their need and yearning for such loving can wake up in unexpected stages of their lives, such as in this case. Married for two decades, virtually sexless for the last quarter of it, and definitely loveless for the past three months, she found her sexual self suddenly awake from a long slumber, and she felt the furious goddess within her demanding to be loved.

As she continued her erotic onslaught, his fully erect manhood seemed to draw from that endless pool of magic called youth, and swelled impossibly in her mouth to an even larger size, as if there was a being expanding inside it, wanting to break free, a being that had no qualms about stretching the penis to bursting in doing so. Whether the increase in size of his penis was imagined or not she could not say for certain, but what was certain was that she was killing him slowly with sexual pleasure.

She felt a pitying victory when she noticed he gave up his increasingly pathetic attempts at continuing his sensual task, as he could no longer muster any strength or focus to keep his mouth on her sex. Her oral loving of his manhood had reduced him to nothing more than a shell of a man, a squirming pile of putty, capable only of lying there to receive agonizing pleasure. This gave her a sadistic sort of satisfaction.

His warm, throbbing rod kept her mouth completely full, and she delighted in feeling that bulk in her mouth, her womb twitching with every pulsation of his sex, and honey continued pouring from her flower despite the cessation of cunnilingus.

But then she felt him begin shuddering, almost imperceptibly, and she woke herself up from her erotic reverie and immediately ceased her attack on his penis. She had almost forgotten... A few more moments of her merciless work on his sex, and it would have been disaster. She would have to slow things down in order to enjoy him fully.

She returned to lying on her back, her head propped up on a pillow at the head of the bed, and she placed another pillow underneath her sacrum so that her womb was angled invitingly towards him, and she spread her legs.

Without needing instruction, he crawled towards her, set himself up over her, and gently lowered himself onto her. He stopped right at the entrance, resting his sex there, enjoying the warmth of her womanhood. He looked towards her, and waited for the command.

"Go ahead, give me your cock. Slowly."

With that he began invading her slowly, his penis sliding in easily from the excessive natural lubrication, and inch by inch he began to fill her up. With every inch, she felt more and more complete, and he more and more at home, finally housed inside the dwelling he belonged. He paused when he had buried himself all the way to the hilt inside her, and they both enjoyed an exhilarating feeling of fulfillment.

He then began a slow rhythmic pumping, in and out. She placed one hand against his lower abdomen as a reminder and barrier against him picking up speed. She used her other hand to start playing with her rosebud. She fingered herself with ever increasing intensity, and with varying motions. She knew reflexively which pattern of clitoral stimulation to perform in order to keep advancing to the next stage of sexual pleasure, due to the unfortunate fact that she had a lot of practice satisfying herself alone in the recent years.

And thusly, she traveled swiftly on her journey of the senses towards the ultimate destination, his steady rhythmic pumping serving as the engine and vehicle, and her fingers serving as the navigator, guiding her ever closer.

Only once in her journey did she have to stop; she broke out of her ecstatic trance to weakly place her free hand, which had begun clutching at the covers and bed sheets, back onto his abdomen to remind him to check his speed.

"Slow..." she breathlessly uttered.

He had forgotten her commandment momentarily, caught up in a whirlwind of pleasure. Watching her face and body contorting in ecstasy, her moans of satisfaction, the sight of her naked womanly body underneath him, her warm, snug sheath enveloping his manhood... all the assaults on his senses threatened to drive reason from his mind.

He obeyed her command and slowed his rhythm, but it was obvious to her what a tremendous struggle it was for him to keep from attacking her sex the way he really wanted to. She was almost ready for him to let loose his pent up sexual energy. Just a little while longer...

And then she saw it. Not far ahead. The precipice. Her destination.

She stared straight into his eyes.

"Fuck me," she quietly commanded.

His thrusting immediately picked up speed, and there was an excited relief in him, as he was finally able to join her on the last leg of the journey.

"Faster," she said, louder.

"Harder!" she demanded, louder still.

With every command she gave, his thrusting became quicker, and the penetration deeper, until every thrust was a battering ram against the gates of her womb, wielded by a bloodthirsty reproductive army demanding entrance to her fertile lands.

"Fuck me!" she screamed like a mad woman, driven insane by pleasure.

And so he did. Merciless, powerful thrusts.

She saw that they were both hurtling towards the end. It was a neck and neck race. It was impossible to tell who would finish first.

She had stopped touching herself. It was pointless; there was just too much pleasure already. Her hands were grabbing and clawing around uselessly, sometimes at the bed, sometimes digging her fingers in him. She clenched and unclenched her fingers as wave after wave of delightful, exhilarating, emotional, warm, soothing, exquisite sensations hit her.

She opened her eyes to see he had changed. No longer a boy, or even a young man, but a demon. His expression was remorseless, angry almost. He was driven by only one purpose: to do as he had been hardwired to do from birth, to ensure the survival of his genes, to invade her womb with his essence. He would not obey her now; nothing could stop him from fulfilling his instinctual mission. A sheen of sweat glistened over his taut muscles, and his athletic form now seemed elevated to the status of a Greek legend. She happily withered away under his magnificence. She was no longer in control. She belonged to him now. He grabbed and groped her in all the places he desired, without needing her permission. Fondling her breasts or squeezing them tight, pinching her nipples, gripping the side handles of her haunches as he rode her hard - whatever suited his needs. He dominated her so that she could recede into the comfort of submission, just as she had hoped in the darkest recesses of her femininity, just as it was meant to be.

And so she took it all in one last time - the supernatural beauty of his godlike body, the piston-like thrusting, the thundering of his pelvis ramming against hers, the occasional sloshing and suctioning sounds of love juices mixing and genitals playing, the grunts and growls coming from the beast on top of her, the multitude of incredible sensations, and the fantastic feeling of freedom in relinquishing control. And with that, she leapt... soaring over the precipice, and into the crevasse... Right at that instant she heard a guttural scream from him, and she immediately felt the flowing of warm liquid inside her stuffed receptacle as he jammed his manhood all the way in, delivering his seed right to the doorsteps of her womb. That was the last thing she was aware of as she fell into the crevasse... falling, falling into the void. And then, for a fraction of an eternity, there was complete nothingness...

Then, out from the dark, silent depths of space, from the very core of her being, a spark. It expanded at a velocity beyond human imagination, filling her universe with a blinding light in an iota of a second. The Big Bang had begun. The Big O. ORGASM! Not the little ones she treated herself to when feeling alone and sorry for herself, but the real deal. The type of climax only achievable by a man making genuine love to her. The type of climax she had almost forgotten existed.

And with that she returned to Earth from the cosmos, back to reality. She was slammed back into her body and instantly experienced an indescribably painful pleasure. It was searing and holy, and much too divine for a mortal. She screamed in torturous ecstasy, as wave upon wave of heavenly sensations wracked her body, and she bucked and squirmed and writhed.

He was not faring much better than her, as he continued to quiver and whimper while unloading the remainder of his seed into her. The pulsations from his penis and the warm liquid leaking from it delighted her womanhood. In turn, her receptacle began treating his manhood to a massage, squeezing it gently with rhythmic contractions, all in welcoming preparation for her womb to receive his seed. And there was a lot of it; she could feel a small amount of the warm sticky liquid leaking out already, even with him still inside of her. Her strict insistence on prolonging the pleasure benefited them both, as it not only allowed for the cosmic orgasm in herself, but also a satisfyingly powerful ejaculation in him. And so they held on to each other for dear life, each experiencing their own hellish paradise, but each needing the other there to experience it.