Artemis Bathing

I still remember vividly the day that it occurred. I had been hunting with my buddies Ephedes and Arimedes in the Dark Woods on the outskirt of our village of Phena. We had each performed the proper libations and prayers to Artemis for the permission to hunt her creatures and also for safety in the woods. The ceremony went quick, we were only seeking a few hares, some pheasant, and later if one could be found a boar. The hunt was to get meat for the Mounikhia festival in which we honor Artemis. I always thought it odd to need to pray to her just for permission to honor her, but I knew better than to comment on it. No hunter ever said a bad word against Artemis for fear of finding a stag at the wrong time or losing a wife during childbirth.

Anyway, I was in the woods and it was midday. Ephedes and Arimedes were checking the trails to see if any stags were passing near and had sent me to take care of small game while they stalked. It was my fate as the youngest of the hunters of the village, but I didn't mind, I was very good at small game.

In fact, early on in my hunt, I had found a warren and collected five fine male hares who looked as if they had fed a little too well of the good spring growth. It was a fine catch and good enough to take a short break before pursuing more game. Thus, I took shelter next to a tree near the Parthenos stream and enjoyed a small draught of wine and a little lamb left from our meal last night. Biting into the meat and letting my mind wander, I thought about Phoebe, the goat herder's daughter.

She had beautiful emerald eyes and a lilting laugh and most importantly a body made for the rites of Aphrodite. Curves set nicely and snugly in her working chiton, I had lusted after her many a slow day. However, I'm a realistic, she was promised to Arktos, the blacksmith's son and thus far off limits. There were times though.

I remembered back some two months when he and Arimedes had traveled down to the watering hole and had witnessed Phoebe beginning a state of undress. I had pulled him quickly into the shadows and watched from the shadows. It was a shameful thing to do, I knew, but if the Gods didn't know, it was likely to bear no ills.

The first thing I remembered about the visage that greeted me in my hiding spot was how much the chiton had lied about Phoebe's shape. As she slowly unwrapped herself from her chiton, we beheld something glorious. Oh yes, Aphrodite had blessed us that day. I still remember how painfully stiff I suddenly was when her ass first appeared beneath the fabric. It was meaty, yet taut from the long hours bending to tend the goats.

Oh yes, it had been wonderfully rounded and well kept and held on wide good child-birthing hips. I was instantly jealous of Arktos and what he would soon have as a wife once the courtship was completed. The hips had curved so nicely too, coming up to the stomach, flat and hard from helping her mother in the kitchen and her father in the pen. I knew that in twenty years she would look like her mother, large bellied and jovial, but for now she was lithe and would remain so until her mother finally got her to cook right.

The chiton had traveled further up slowly exposing her bare back to us. I had grimaced in disappointment, hoping to see the glorious breasts that I had seen revealed through the fabric when she was working especially hard.

I waited in grim agonizing patience as she slowly put down her chiton and bent before the pool, flashing us with a beautiful sight of not only her bent ass but her lovely maidenhood, still pink and tender as a flower and resting softly underneath her cleft. I heard a soft groan to my left and turned to behold Arimedes stroking his naked manhood to the sight. I was always jealous of him as his was an inch larger than mine as well as thicker, but as the second-best hunter of the village, it was expected that it would be so.

I gave him a stern whisper fearing that the slightest noise would cause her too flee like a frightened doe back to the town and thus deprive us of more visual treats. I turned back to the pool, fearing that she would be already fleeing, but Aphrodite had apparently been favoring us as not only had she heard nothing, but was turned directly towards us bathing in enjoyment.

Looking upon her breasts, slightly wet and proud, I nearly came. It was a firm and globular pair, jutting out defiantly as one would imagine Aphrodite's would. They were larger than those on Aphrodite's statue at the nearest city, filling out in ways I had not expected. It seems that the quantity of goat milk she had drunk in her life must have blessed her well. The areolas were perfect quarters of pink upon her olive skin and called attention from our spot like Zeus's lightning. I watched transfixed as they swayed and traveled slowly behind her cleansing motions. Her nipples jutted out beautifully as well, as turgid as my manhood, as they do on Aphrodite's statue. I soon found out why.

Why I hadn't noticed immediately that she had been cleaning her maidenhood for a longer period of time than seemed necessary, I don't know. However, once her first moans began to emit across the waters, I realized what actions she was partaking in. Her hands were flashing heavily around her crotch, frantically plucking and teasing and occasionally disappearing into her womb. Slowly she raised one hand to her mouth and licked of it, tasting of her womanly fluids. My cock was now painfully turgid and awkwardly I began to touch it at its tip, letting my fingers do their most important duty.

Her breasts began to heave softly as she reached down the finger she had tasted to grip one and roll it. Her hands seemed to gingerly twist her nipples, making them stand even further out than they had been. Her fingers were still maintaining their manic pace and seemed to be speeding up. I watched transfixed as she brought up one nipple to her mouth and licked it with her tongue outstretched. The action was getting to both of us and we knew we would not last long before we erupted and were then spotted. I began to grow anxious at the thought and that anxiety saved me.

I delayed my release and soon her fingers began to fly at a deadly blur over the front of her maidenhood, nearly at its tip. Her breasts lightly trembled at the action and all of a sudden, she began to cry loudly in a moan. Taking the opportunity to mask our sound, Arimedes and I exploded into the brush. The feeling was impossibly taxing and I came out of it feeling like I had chased a boar halfway across the clearing.

Phoebe seemed equally taxed and only half-heartedly finished her cleaning rituals. She had sighed as she dressed again and seemed to walk like a cat after dinner back up the dirt trail to the village.

"Arktos is certainly a lucky son of a goat, isn't he," Arimedes said laughing, his dick wilting slowly to normal.

"Yes," I said as jealousy filled me slowly. That night, I had turned that feeling into a glorious fortnight of vivid self-pleasurings. It had been a good time.

#

Coming back to Earth, I heard a nearby splashing in the stream near me. A part of me wondered if the power of my dream had caused nymphs to bathe near me. It was a silly thought I know, but I was now horny. I peeked softly through the brush in the direction of the splashes and froze in horror.

My mind numb with fear I checked the signs again; silver sandals at creek side, silver bow in the grass, an eerily docile doe watching at the bend, and the overwhelming sense of deity. It had been Artemis, goddess of the hunt and instantly my mind reeled of all the legends I had been told of her. The most important one had been the legend of poor Actaeon.

Actaeon had been a hunter; the best of the city of Orchomenus and, it was rumored, of Greece. However, Tyche had not smiled upon him and he had the bad luck to wander into Artemis bathing in a stream. She had turned him into a stag and had his own dogs rip his throat out. All because no mortal is supposed to behold the sight of the virgin goddess in the nude. Yet, there I was beholding. Beholding very well.

I noticed as soon as the rational fear of living a very brief life as a stag began to fade, I noticed more about the bathing figure. She was beautiful, but in a defiant manner. As if she was angry to be beautiful. Her hair was cut short, or rather was short. The gods after all have absolute control over their appearances and did not suffer from a need to shave or groom. She was cleaning her arms and legs in the stream water, clearing off the dirt of Earth's woods that she had collected. I wondered briefly why she did not just will herself clean, but soon grew to realize that she enjoyed the dirt and feel of spring water. It was the huntress's blood in her.

She wet her short hair in the river and snapped back, exposing her chest to me fully. It was a bewilderingly erotic pair. They were smaller than Phoebe's had been, much smaller. In fact, they were like two small cherries, peaking out from her chest. They were also firm and perfectly round. Even more so than Phoebe's. They were virgin's breasts. Not just a virgin's breasts, but also the essence of what virgin breasts are supposed to look like. Tender, never used buds, waiting for true maturity, but still grown out from puberty. The nipples did not stand out like Phoebe's, but waited on the tiny areola as if they may never grow hard. Remembering the old legends, I wondered if they had even risen for Orion.

Enjoying the feast of the breasts, which made me feel young, like when I had first reached puberty, I let my tension drop. As I finally let myself enjoy the forbidden sight, my manhood began once again to rise. The very taboo nature of my actions pushing it as equally as the eroticism of the sight. I bit my lip knowing that to the ears of the goddess of the hunt, the slightest noise would condemn me to a fate worse than death. I let not a moan pass my lips and took care not to fondle my hard member lest that action be too loud.

I continued to watch, letting my gaze fall from the beauty of her breasts to sights more interesting. My eyes moved slowly as if delirious to drink in as much of the sight they could before it was denied them. I traced down her perfect belly, noticing how smooth it was. I could see ripples of flesh underneath and noticed that the softness was a lie, hiding a strength and hardness of pure athleticism.

The motion of muscles underneath the blemishless, scarless belly was bewitching. As she bent around, slowly cleaning her legs and arms, letting the forest water cleanse her inside and out, letting it permeate her, I saw the motions of every stag and doe I had ever hunted. I could see the perfection of nature, a unity of all creatures, everything. I checked myself to make sure I was not walking out towards that belly to be with it and confidant that I had not moved, let my gaze travel further down.

As my gaze began to reach her hips, I was perplexed. Her hips were narrow, so narrow in fact that birth seemed not just a painful excursion, but an impossibility. Her ass was taut behind it and lacked any semblance of fat. Furthermore her mound when she turned forward again was strange. It was not truly hairless, but the dark curls of her head, were nevertheless short and sparse. It allowed an absolute unguarded view of her maidenhood, the twin lips glistening in the creek water.

This view was the true zenith of my voyeurism. I stared at the two lips of the virgin Goddess and was filled with an emotion of lust, love, everything all at once. It was not just a forbidden fruit, but the forbidden fruit. I was beholding something even Gods and immortals do not get to see. It looked...

It looked tight. I mean that it had an appearance that said that it would be the tightest thing you could possibly imagine entering. It seemed to stand saying that if ever Tartarus upended itself and a mortal was allowed to do the honors, that it would squeeze so perfectly and utterly that you would come before getting halfway. It was perfection. It was also young or seemed to be young. It was vibrant with the power of life in all its incarnations. It was virginity.

I don't mean that it was just a virgin's maidenhood. It was much more than that. It was as if the hymen were visible through the skin and sparse hairs. It had the blush of naivety and inexperience and yet the coldness of infinite prevention. It was the perfect tease. The lips parted barely as if unaware of the need to ever clench and softly from my vantage position I could see the clit.

That is the memory that scarred deepest into my brain. It was pure and obvious and wet and oddly colored perfect silver, like the silver of moonlight or of the threads of the Fates. It shone across the water and yet didn't really shine. In fact, it seemed to both stand out and hide as if embarrassed to be apparent. It begged to be touched, nibbled, rubbed, licked. In a moment I came up with uses for that small bump that not even my brother's or hunting mate's told me of. My mind was exploding with lust and possibilities and that forbidden silver nub.

I was transfixed by it, felt my eyes fixate closer and closer until all I could see was the maidenhood and the clit. I don't know from what strange power I saw it this way, but I was thankful. It filled my vision and I could imagine the scent. It would be pure and sweet and smell slightly of the animalistic energy of the hunt. It would have, if he had been that close, kept him so docile that he would never have noticed that he was now turned into some wild beast and sent towards my friends to die.

Suddenly a hand crossed into my square of vision. It began to cleanse the forbidden spot, tenderly and awkwardly as if the goddess didn't want to admit what went on down there. Softly, her fingers spread her lips as she cleansed with water and some strange fluid. She moved methodically, letting her fingers swirl but not titillate. She didn't seem to do it for the enjoyment like Phoebe, but I noticed that her hand dwelled down there for a bit more time than should be necessary.

The fingers swirled faster and began to travel upwards toward the silver nub and began to rub and shine that. They circled and covered and rubbed and briefly twisted it and slowly the whole mound began to open and glisten. My breath stuck in the back of my throat. I was witnessing a goddess pleasure herself. More importantly, I was watching the VIRGIN goddess play with herself. This was a sight no one, nothing got to see. I suspected that if I could have looked up, the doe would have its head turned away.

The actions grew faster and more intense and the mound began to move back and forth, swinging the petals of her labia gently. The motion was like a gentle wave like might be made by the wind on the taller trees or on the waters of the lake up in the mountains. Everything pulsed around her fingers moving faster and faster around her silver nub pausing seldom to dip a finger or two into the opening maidenhood. It was a perfect motion. It exuded lust across the clearing and below me my manhood was growing painfully turgid and was beginning to twitch in time to her waves.

The waves built up, growing slowly faster as her hands sped to a blur on the edge of my mortal sight. After a minute or an hour or some manner of time between, her hands disappearing into the speed of her motion, her hips rocking faster and faster, she came. It came as the sound of a flock of birds rising in the air, a stag roaring, a rustle of birdcalls and hundreds of natural noises. It was deafening and yet hidden. I remember being unable to hear anything but it and yet I can't even remember it very well. All I know is that it occurred and in the explosion of orgasm, I came to. I didn't even notice it, but my manhood began to spill my white sperm on the ground before me. I let out spurt after spurt until finally I passed out.

I woke up later. The sun was pointing towards mid-afternoon and I knew it was time to head back to the village. The sight of the silver nub of Artemis burned upon my memory as I stumbled carrying my hares over my shoulder. It seemed in some ways a dream, but I knew it hadn't been. When I came to the village carrying only five rabbits, Arimedes moved to chastise me but fell short when he looked into my eyes. I don't know what he saw there but he changed his tune immediately and at the next Mounikhia, allowed me to join him on the stag hunt.

As the years went by, I received great respect from both my family and friends and it wasn't long before I was wed to Ortheia, Phoebe's younger sister. She was considered not as beautiful as Phoebe because her hips were not as wide and her breasts were not as large and round, but I found myself loving it much more than the body of her sister.

Over the years I pleasured her well in the act of lovemaking, enjoying nothing more than to taste and pluck at her maidenhood before and after intercourse. She enjoyed this immensely and for much of my life, many of the other wives look at me with respect and at my wife with jealousy. Her sister especially, whose husband, Arktos has turned into a drunken bum over the years.

My wife has often told me how transfixed she is by me and how when I am aroused my eyes seem to have tiny silver lights in them. I doubt this is true, but I can't help wondering. And in that wondering, I remember the sight that even my wife can't live up to:

The perfection of the goddess and how strongly her silver nub shone when she came.