At Last 16

An earlier version was proofread by Janey, but she is not responsible for remaining errors.

(Ouuuuga)

(Ouuuuga)

(Ouuuuga)

Notwithstanding her prerogatives -- feminine and divine -- of doing exactly what she wanted when she wanted to do it, Aphrodite grudgingly forced herself awake. Why in Hades' name was the computer system blaring the emergency alert? Especially at this hour? Especially when she was so pleasantly full of her divine husband's divine cock?

And on a Sunday morning?

Her computers were programmed to respond to all but the most extreme prayers automatically. You didn't need the Goddess of Love herself to tell an over-eager man to spend a little more time getting his wife hot before trying to plunge in. If he hit a brick wall and deflated, well, it served him right. And if the woman really needed to get laid, the computer could give her a few tips on dressing more provocatively and moving her hips with a little more wiggle. No, no ordinary mortal lust should have disturbed her sleep.

(Ouuuuga)

(Ouuuuga)

(Ouuuuga)

This was to have been their perfect night. Nowadays the gods had such hectic schedules and she had planned everything to be alone with her mate. Hephaestus no longer had to help out only with forging plows and swords. Instead, he was the Ultimate Tech Support when an IT specialist was at the end or her tether. The last eighteen months had been Hades for her poor husband, as he had been roped into countless projects to fix the Y2K problem. The ignominy! The damned millennium wasn't even numbered after the Olympians, but who did the prayers come to? The Nazarene? Oh, no. "My kingdom is not of this world."

Then some Scandinavian trickster had come through and persuaded all the Olympians to change their computer systems to avoid the Y2K problem. Now the hardware -- made in Cathay or Zeus knows where -- was all going on the blink at the same time. And the only response from the 24-hour 800 number was, "Your call is very important to us..." And it would be a hot day in Ultima Thule before one of Loci's "service representatives" showed up in Hellas. So who did all the gods call? Her poor Hephaestus..

Then came problems when ASSTR had to change providers. Millions of porn fans started inundating the Celestial Server with demands to see their favorite dirty stories nicely saved and catalogued ASAP! And when, with the help of Hephaestus and readers who make contributions at

http://www.asstr.org/donations.html

the problem was solved, did anyone say, "Thanks?"

With all this work, her poor husband was so tuckered when he staggered back to their celestial palace every night that it was all he could do to plough Aphrodite to a few quick orgasms, fill her with a couple of undersize loads, and collapse into the arms of Morpheus. It had been weeks since he had eaten her properly!

Aphrodite wasn't used to such Spartan sex and wasn't going to put up with the lack of attention for long. Aphrodite needed more loving than this and she was determined to get it! Threatening to make Jove give back the magic amulet that kept Hera screwing him, at least occasionally, Aphrodite persuaded the Father of Gods and Men to put a thunderbolt into the Forge's power supply, sending Heph home at mid-afternoon.

She was waiting for him. She had chosen a square cut tank top and a waist-tied skirt in a Hydra print that nicely showcased her voluptuous body. Shaking the raven locks that fell in romantic ringlets to her alabaster shoulders, she strategically placed a foot with prettily painted toes clad in a 3 1/2 inch stiletto-heel T-strap sandal [Those Gucci Brothers might be Italian barbarians, but they knew how to make hot footwear!] on the base of a column (Corinthian or Ionian, Aphrodite could never remember the difference.).. Heph's favorite golden loops dangled from her ear lobes. The notes of Orpheus's lyre wafted in from the courtyard. (Ok, it was only a CD of "Orpheus's Greatest Hits," but it was always effective in getting Heph in the mood.) The table was laid with her husband's favorite wines and ambrosia, but Aphrodite had a bet with herself it would never be tasted.

She won the bet. Boy did she win it!

The Goddess of Love was not surprised to see Heph's reaction as soon as he saw his divinely hot wife. It almost tore a hole in his loin cloth "Oh, honey, is that the Sword of Damocles in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?" she asked coyly.

Aphrodite didn't expect a verbal reply and didn't get one. Instead Heph grunted and lunged for her in a style to become reminiscent of NFL fullbacks trying for a fourth and goal from the one. In seconds she felt herself hefted (or was that Hephted?) and slung over her divine lover's broad shoulder. Heph might be lame, but he sure as Hades was making good time toward the master alcove. He was so sweaty and smelly and macho; her pussy tingled in giddy, inverted anticipation.

(thwump)

The goddess was on her back. As her head cleared she saw Heph drop his loin cloth. Yes! Her offering to Priapus -- the come from one hundred virgins' first orgasms -- had been well rewarded; Heph's erection was as straight and hard and long and thick as she'd ever seen it. She was going to enjoy this night!

(rip)

'One square-neck tank top, finis, thirty-seven drachma,' Aphrodite thought.

(pop) (shhhrup)

'Hydra print skirt, sixty-one drachma,' the Goddess inventoried.

(twang)

'Ouch! That smarted,' she thought. 'Why couldn't he just pull it down? I would have lifted my butt, if he'd given me the chance. Oh, well, one less black lace thong, eighteen drachma.'

So, what! Her credit at Nike's Secret was good for a lot more than one hundred sixteen drachma, plus tax. Money well spent if it meant she got...

(kersplush)

"Uuuuuu!"

... impaled on Heph's magnificent goddess-pleaser. "Oh my Zeuuuuuuuuuus!" the goddess bellowed. The first orgasm hit her before Heph was all the way in.

This was not the kind of foreplay her expert system advised for reluctant wives, but Aphrodite wasn't reluctant. Her divine snatch had been wet for hours, waiting for this moment. When Aphrodite felt Hephaestus's adamantine prick slide into her sloppy hole, she thought she had died and gone to .... Wait! She was an Immortal and she was already in heaven, but -- whatever! It felt damned good.

First fuck had been around nightfall. By midnight Aphrodite had been screwed every way known in Greater Hellas and had come so many times she couldn't think straight. Who WANTED to think straight? She vaguely remembered her Hindu friend, Shiva, bragging that Krishna knew thousands more positions, but Aphrodite didn't give a damn. She had been most satisfactorily pummeled, pounded, and orgamsed out. She was one happy goddess when at last she snuggled up to her sleeping husband, kissed him one last time and closed her eyes. Not intending to open them again until ....

(Ouuuuga)

(Ouuuuga)

(Ouuuuga)

Aphrodite tried burrowing deeper into the massive chest and muscled arm of her sexy husband. Hephaestus had been fucking her silly since the Indo-Aryans were a little tribe of nomads and it STILL drove her crazy! He had the body of a Greek god -- well, he WAS a Greek god and not a wimpy one like Apollo, either. No, her Heph was built on the Sylvester Stallone model; or rather, Rambo was built on the Hephaestus model! Heph had the equipment that Dark Wanderer wives dream about and their Dark Wanderer husbands have nightmares about. And, by Jove, did he know how to use it!

Maybe this was a bad dream. Cyrphe was supposed to be night duty, but Aphrodite had seen the horny nymph giving the eye to one of the young satyrs who kept the grounds and the Love Goddess didn't need much imagination to know where SHE was right now. No, this was no dream. Aphrodite had to take care of this herself before it woke her darling mate.

The new Answered Prayer 5.0 for Windows 2000 was supposed to be almost fully automated, she groused silently as she padded her way along the colonnade to the IT room. There was no reason for her to have to attend to all these petitions personally in this day and age. That's why she had installed the expert system. At least ninety-nine percent of all the petitions fell into just four categories:

"Please let him come on to me." "Please let her say yes when I come on to her."

"Please let me be able to get him to go down on me." "Please let me be able to get her to give me a blow job."

"Please let me be able to get him to use a condom." "Please let me be able to fuck her without a condom."

"Please don't let me be pregnant." "Please let her be pregnant."

Aphrodite had been so happy when the new software arrived, especially when she saw who delivered it, a hunky demigod driving a big orange and blue chariot from Gods Ex (not "Gods' Sex" -- get a grip, girl). The young driver went away knowing just HOW grateful the goddess was for his "service." And when Heph had installed it for her, she spent more than two nights thanking him. And now this!

(OUUUUUGA)

(OUUUUUGA)

(OUUUUUGA)

(OUUUUUGA)

The alarm seemed to increase in volume as she sat down and hit the kill switch.

(OUGA...)

Merciful silence!

Quickly Aphrodite clicked on the diagnostics icon to see what could have gone wrong. Glancing at the control screen, she saw it going crazy with wild hieroglyphics. If this was another trick by one of her Egyptian colleagues ...!

"INFINITE LOOP: CANNOT PROCESS"

'Not very helpful,' the goddess thought. Briefly contemplating asking Zeus to hurl a thunderbolt to blast that impious Microsoft from the face of the earth, she realized that the U.S. Justice Department would probably do a more thorough job, anyway. Quickly she ran a utility to uncover the problem. This was weird! No, understandable in a way. Two diametrically contradictory petitions of a maximum emotional urgency had arrived at the very same nanosecond, throwing the hapless computer into a Godelian loop. Quickly Aphrodite pulled up the two messages on a split screen.

"Oh, shit!" she screamed. "I should have fucking know! Those two again! I'm going to KILL them!" She roared. She ground her teeth. Her nostrils flared and her eyes grew red with rage. Aphrodite was tired -- tired wasn't the word -- she had had it up to her aura with this pair. Actually, if she could have arranged it, the troublesome Wonder Woman and Major Steve Trevor would have been fried decades ago. Since the '40s of the Twentieth Century Col. Trevor (well, he was only a Lieutenant, then) had been trying to get into the star-spangled pants of the Amazon Princess, who had been fending him off for exactly as long.

Zeus steadfastly refused to thunderbolt Col. Trevor, pointing out that he was doing only what every red-blooded mortal and blue-ichored god wanted to do. Likewise refused to let Aphrodite do anything to interfere with Wonder Woman's superheroine career; she took care of dozens of chores that would otherwise have taken Zeus away from having fun with half the maidens and all the nymphs in Hellas. Bottom line: she could do nothing to this dysfunctional couple -- and zillions of their fans -- who generated a disproportional amount of the traffic on both her 800 number and the website.

"Steve Trevor and that dammed amazon bitch again!" she almost screamed. She guessed what had happened even before she read the simultaneous pleas.

Steve had rescued this "Wonder Woman" -- again -- and he had hoped to take advantage of it to get into her pants -- again.

"Please let me score this time."/"Please make him leave me alone."

Aphrodite had been getting these conflicting prayers every month or so for years and had long since ignored them. Couldn't Steve figure it out for himself? The amazon in the funny red pants, although she certainly had a body built for fucking, was under a curse that kept her from doing anything about it. As an Amazon, if she gave herself to a man, she lost all her super powers. As an official of the United State Government, Col. Trevor certainly shouldn't want to deprive his nation of the services of the sexiest superheroine in the universe. Unfortunately, as a man, Col. Steve Trevor wanted nothing more that to fuck her silly and to Hades with the superpowers. Because of the curse, Wonder Woman couldn't fuck Steve, but she'd surely fucked up Aphrodite's computer. It was the last straw.

With blazing fingers she punched in the numbers on her cell phone. "Cybernetica! Come here this instant!" the goddess barked at her IT support nymph.

"Yes, Oh yessss. YESSSSS. I'm coming, ... I'm COMING ... Aieeeeeeeeeee!"

"I mean NOW, Zeusdammit, not when you finish with whoever you have in there fucking your eyeballs out, you demi-slut! If you don't get me Eros here in five minutes, you're going to find out just how it feels to have Cebrerus fuck you and Phil Phantom write about it!" the goddess fumed. There was no justice in Olympus. Athena got the seven cultivated, well-behaved Muses to do her bidding; Aphrodite got the seven wanton, misbehaving Fuses to do -- exactly what they wanted, which was to get laid morning, noon, and night!

It was closer to ten minutes when a drowsy, slightly spacey little god flitted into the computer center. Aphrodite was glowering as she sipped a new beverage brought to her recently by the AEthiopians, a black, bitter concoction, but one that energized her more than the ambrosia that Hebe prepared.

"I won't bother asking what took you so long. Didn't I teach you to wash the pussy juice off face after you eat a goddess?"

"I was in the middle of making love to my wife," her son huffed. "Besides, if we go to your alcove, I'll bet we'll find Hepheastus's face needs washing, too. Why the summons at this ungodly hour, Mom? Aurora doesn't get up for hours yet?"

"What's it to you? Psyche has you in bed day and night, anyway."

"I don't want to go into this with you, Mom," Eros replied wearily.

"Yeah, I know what you want to go into and with whom," was his Aphrodite's sour reply.

After several more rounds of this sort of sniping Aphrodite got down to business. "I'm sick of this Col. Trevor and Wonder Woman screwing up my communications system. I want a final solution to this. And since I can't touch Wonder Woman, I've got and idea for how you can fix Col. Trevor."

"But what can *I* do. Zeus refuses to blast him."

"You are going to get one Col. Steven Trevor, U. S Military Intelligence -- what a contradiction -- and one off-the-reservation amazon, a.k.a. "Wonder Woman" out of my hair once and for all!"

"You want me to make them fall in love for good?"

"No, you dolt, the amazon bitch must remain a virgin to deal with alien life forms, supervillains, and natural disasters. She doesn't deserve it, anyway. No, you are going to find someone else to fall in love -- really in love -- with Col. Trevor. A sexy tennis star, a CNNfn correspondent babe, an MTV hostess, whom, I don't really care. Just make sure the woman gets the hots for Trevor. He's kind of handsome for a mortal and deserves a frisky woman to make up for the frustration he's gone through all these years panting for the amazon. If you have any trouble finding a woman who really likes to fuck, ask Janey or Lucinda or Bronwen; they claim to know plenty. Once some hot sexy woman is in love with Col. Trevor, he'll forget about the Amazon bitch and, voila, everybody's happy."

"Great idea, Mom. I'll put an old arrow through his heart."

"They don't call me the Goddess of 'Luv' for nothing, Jr." she smirked. "Just make sure the woman falls in lust with him, too. -- totally, passionately. I don't want Col. Trevor back here next week because SHE won't put out for him."

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll get them with my trick shot, one arrow through both hearts. It'll be a piece of cake"

"Yeah, wedding cake!" Aphrodite sighed, suddenly sentimental, Although strictly speaking, weddings were more Hera's department..

*****

Flying as fast as his chubby little wings would carry him, Eros was able to arrive in Washington early Monday afternoon. Big Mistake! Though invisible, he apparently showed up on the radar at Andrews and caused them to scramble to intercept the unidentified aircraft. Then, after dodging ATA missiles, as he approached the Pentagon he could hardly get through the constant stream of flights coming into or going out of Reagan National.

It was Thursday morning before Eros could find Col. Steve Trevor in the labyrinthine corridors of the Pentagon. Eros was growing discouraged; he hadn't even started on finding a woman for him. Then he got lucky. (Not that way, you perverts. Eros is totally faithful to his Psyche.) Thank Zeus, there was a woman in the very same office with Col. Trevor. Hmm. Not a bad looker, though she sure didn't know how to dress. "Zeus in Olympus!" Eros muttered to himself when he checked the woman's measurements. "Why look further? Stevie boy will fall out of his tree when he sees her naked." This meant Eros didn't need to find someone else, engineer a chance encounter, etc. He'd be back in Hellas and in Psyche's sweet snatch in time for TGIF. Zeus, he was horny!

Aiming carefully, Eros loosed his arrow and watched it fly, unerringly piercing first the heart of Steve Trevor and then, that of the woman, Diana Something-or-Other. The little god grinned and hovered around to admire the effects of his marksmanship.

*****

Steve looked up from his work. An amazing thought had just occurred to him. That mousy Diana Prince with a little makeover could be HOT! Why had he never thought of her that way before. The bun? Pull the clip and her hair would fall to her shoulders. Those awful glasses? He had seen a Linda Carter ad for laser surgery that would correct that. 'Totally fuckable. I could have some fun with that sexy broad,' Steve thought, totally forgetting his lifelong obsession with Wonder Woman.

'I'll get her to wear those tight, hot minis with 4" heels with an ankle tie and take her clubbing to Los Amigos del Disco. Hell, with that black hair she could pass for a Latina. When I twirl her around and everybody sees she isn't wearing panties, all the men will be soooo envious,' he smirked. 'And we can go to all the hockey games and have pizza and beer at the Calvert Grill.'

'Then in few months when she finds she's going to have a baby -- heh -heh -- I'll pop the question. Of course, being totally ape over me she'll say yes yes yes yes and I'll move us to a big house out near Dulles. Some Homeland Security contractor should be willing to pay an ex-intelligence hot-shot like yours truly enough to support Mr. and Mrs. Trevor and our six or eight kids. Oh, yeah, this is going to be perfect!' Steve mused, not aware that there was anything wrong with having rewritten his life plan in a matter of seconds.

*****

Diana Prince looked up from her work. She had been fidgeting in her chair since just after lunch. The source of her discomfort was near at hand; Col. Steve Trevor was looking at her again. But that wasn't the whole story; she felt odd, too, giggly and happy that he was looking. She had an urge to shake loose her long hair from its tight bun and let it fall fetchingly to her shoulders. "Maybe I could duck into the ladies' room to freshen my lipstick," she thought, not remembering that she wasn't wearing lipstick and did not possess a tube. She was chagrined to think how frumpy she must look to a dashing man like Col. Trevor in her loose skirt, nondescript blouse and flats. But , wait! "Of course I look frumpy. I work hard every morning to look frumpy. It isn't easy when you have a dynamite body like mine!"

Then an amazing thought occurred to her. Steve Trevor, though arrogant and full of himself, taken in hand by the right woman, like yours truly -- heh heh -- could be turned into a decent prospect! Why had she never thought of him that way before. The buzz cut? Let his hair grow and he'd look like an adult. Those awful uniforms? Well, he'd probably want to find a civilian career to impress his new girlfriend, although he would, of course, need her help choosing the right wardrobe. 'I'm going to have so much fun with that hunk,' Diana thought, totally forgetting her lifelong obsession with protecting Wonder Woman's virtue.