It was pathetic, I know.
I was standing in the “Erotica” aisle at my local bookstore, and nestled in between titles like Captive Lust and Couples Cumming Together was the novel I had just written and published. The title of the novel was Circe’s Island.
The pathetic part wasn’t that I was browsing through smut, but that I was there to see if my book had been relegated to the bargain rack yet.
“Not quite yet,” I sighed with relief.
My vanity temporarily satisfied, I let my gaze drift over the bookshelf, which came up to about chest level. Then I forgot all about my book.
In the next aisle over stood a fair-skinned woman with long raven-black hair that flowed freely about her shoulders. Her almond-shaped green eyes shone from underneath long, dark eyelashes that fluttered as she paged through a book. Her small mouth boasted full, dare I say, utterly kissable lips.
She had what I could only describe as a dark beauty about her.
Sensing she was being watched, she glanced up from her book and met my gaze.
The loveliness of her eyes hit me with an almost tangible impact. I couldn’t look away, so I smiled at her instead.
After a moment, she smiled back.
“Have you found it?” she asked, her sultry voice a feminine song to my ears.
“Found it?” I replied.
“Your next smutty read,” she said.
“Oh.” I must have blushed because she snickered.
“I’m in that aisle a lot.” She winked.
I relaxed. What a lovely woman.
“To answer your question,” I replied, “not yet. Have you found your next fantasy read? I’m in that aisle a lot, too,” I said with a smirk.
“I think so,” she said, holding up the paperback fantasy that looked to be based on Norse mythology. “And since I am all finished up here, why don’t I come help you?”
“I’d welcome your help,” I replied. I was in no rush at all to end this encounter.
I watched her head float to the end of her aisle and round the corner into mine. But even as lovely as her face was, I was not ready for the rest of her.
She wore a gorgeous red velvet dress that hung from her shoulders and revealed the top of her ample cleavage. It clung tightly to her curves, showing off her feminine hips and the bosom of a fertility goddess. The dress stopped about mid-way down her thighs, which were slender and strong. The muscles in her thighs and calves tensed with each step she took in her white strapped heels.
I felt under-dressed in my jeans and T-shirt.
She must have registered the hearty approval that showed on my face. She slowed and her hips swayed just a bit more than they had previously. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to maneuver my rising cock to keep the front of my pants from tenting.
She stopped in front of me and glanced over to the shelf. I couldn’t stop staring at her, especially now that her sweet scent filled my nostrils and added yet another dimension of desire.
She picked through a few books. Then I swelled with pride as she exclaimed, “Oh, what about this one?” and picked up Circe’s Island.
I chuckled. “I’ve actually already read that one.”
“Is it good?” she asked as she flipped through it.
“I hope so,” I said with some embarrassment. “I wrote it.”
She looked at the book cover, then at me. “You’re Rhys?”
“I am,” I confirmed. Somewhat sheepishly, I pulled out my driver’s license to show her both the first and last names matched. As I put it away, I said, “Although, maybe I should’ve waited until after you read it to tell you. Just in case you think it sucks,” I chuckled only half-jokingly.
She smiled. “I doubt it sucks,” she reassured me. “But, why don’t I read it I’ll give you my review after?”
“I’d love that,” I said honestly. “At least let me buy it for you though. Just in case it is awful, I wouldn’t want you spending your own money.”
She shook her head. “Nope,” she said with finality. “I make it a rule to support local artists. But, I do want you to sign it for me.”
“I can do that,” I said through a grin. “What’s your name? Since you already have mine.”
“Misa.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Misa.”
I glanced once more at the shelf. Not seeing anything that caught my eye, and being much too distracted to give it any thought anyway, I walked her to the checkout desk and asked the cashier for a pen.
Opening the book to the title page, I wrote, “To Misa – Circe in the flesh,” and signed my name.
Then, not quite realizing what I was doing until it was done, I wrote down my address.
I glanced over at her. Her eyebrow was raised in knowing amusement, but the smile hadn’t left her face.
I fumbled for an excuse. “In case, uh, you want to check out my fantasy and mythology collection.”
She giggled. “I might do that sometime,” she said noncommittally.
I handed the book to her and paused, once again struck by the loveliness of her green eyes.
What the hell? I thought and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. She didn’t move away. It was probably just my wishful imagination, I could’ve sworn she leaned into it.
“Good night, Circe,” I said and headed for the exit.
__________
I had fully accepted that I had blown it with the gorgeous goddess at the bookstore as I settled in that evening to pick up where I had left off in The Odyssey. Circe’s Island was an erotic retelling of the wayward traveler Odysseus’ stay on the goddess’ magical island. In my retelling he was ensnared by his lust for her. Writing it had made me want to dive into Homer again.
But just as I had opened the book I heard a knock at the door. Not expecting anyone this late, I thought about pretending I wasn’t home. Then I remembered my spur-of-the-moment decision to give Misa my address.
Still doubting it was her, I didn’t bother to change out of my sweats and raggedy T-shirt before I opened the door.
I immediately wished I had.
It was her, only now she wore her hair up, and instead of the red velvet dress she had on a tight, thin purplish grey dress that left little to the imagination. Those same white heels accented the muscles of her legs. She was obviously not wearing a bra. The fabric outlined her heavy bare tits and her hard nipples protruded tantalizingly.
I beamed with delight in spite of my unpreparedness.
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” she said.
“Impossible,” I assured her. “I’m thrilled to see you.” I motioned for her to come in and shut the door behind us.
She glanced around my living room, her eyes falling to my copy of The Odyssey that lay on the table. Then she turned to face me.
“I finished it,” she announced.
“Already? What did you think?” I asked, nervous to hear her response.
She stepped close and put her mouth near my ear, her large, soft chest pressing against mine.
“I’ve been soaking through my panties ever since,” she whispered.
I turned my head slightly, pressing my cheek against hers, and whispered back, “Then I’ve done my job.”
“Hm,” she giggled softly. “Not yet…”
She spun around and went to the coffee table. Picking up The Odyssey, she didn’t look back as she walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. The jiggle of her juicy ass through the tight, thin fabric left me almost drooling.
I took a deep breath, a permanent smile fixed on my face. If she was Circe, then I was thrilled to be her Odysseus. The difference was that I would never dream of trying to escape from her island.
I followed her slowly, soaking in the anticipation. The bedroom door was partly open, the soft glow of my solitary lamp gleaming from inside. I pushed inside.
She was on all fours on the bed, legs spread and perfectly plump ass presented. The hem of her dress was up around her hips and her pretty asshole peeked from beneath her purple thong. Her feet were bare and her pretty toes wiggled freely. She rested on her elbows with her back arched.
“Thence we sailed sadly on, glad to have escaped death,” she said softly as she read from the book that lay open on the mattress in front of her, “though we had lost our comrades, and came to the Aeaean island, where Circe lives a great and cunning goddess.”
I tore off my shirt and sweatpants, dropped them to the floor, and walked slowly toward her inviting figure.
“Climbing to the top of a high look-out I espied the smoke of Circe’s house rising upwards amid a dense forest of trees.”
I knelt behind her, running my fingertips along her strong thighs and taking in the smell of her arousal. My fingers traced the cleavage of her hips and ran along the muscles of her lower back. Finding the waistband of her thong, I pulled it over her hips and down her thighs. She brought her legs together, letting me pull them down and off. She widened her stance again as I tossed the undergarment to the side.
“As I stood there I could hear Circe within, singing most beautifully as she worked at her loom, making a web so fine, so soft, and of such dazzling colors as no one but a goddess could weave.”
I licked my lips as Misa’s bare pussy lips glistened with arousal. She was freshly shaved. I guessed that, at that moment, I had never been hungrier in my life.
I traced her labia with my tongue as my nose bounced gently against her asshole. She was soaked. Her tangy wetness only further inflamed my lust and I lapped at her flesh hungrily.
Misa’s voice became shakier as she read, “I fared onward to the house of Circe. When I got to the gates I stood there and called the goddess, and as soon as she heard me she came down, opened the door, and asked me to come in…”
She gasped as my tongue found her engorged clit and played against it, then she moaned as my lips suctioned around it.
My fingers dug into the meat of her hips as I feasted and she haltingly continued.
“When the sun went down and it came on dark,” she paused, a deep moan emanating from her chest, “I had got into bed with Circe…”
Unable to resist any longer, I stood, my rigid cock bouncing against her wet pussy as I did. I ran the head of my cock through her slick lips and lined up with her hole. As I slowly advanced she wrapped around me, tight but warm and inviting. Slowly and deliberately, soaking in every sensation, I advanced.
She couldn’t help but back her ass into me, wordlessly demanding that I fill her. The smack of her ass against my hips was like a starting gun firing at the beginning of a race. My fingers sank into her hips as I resisted the urge to thrust mindlessly.
Misa had given up on the book. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted as she licked her lips. “Oh,” she moaned. “Fuck me, Odysseus. Fuck me…”
My strokes were long and slow. My attention was fixed on the sensation of our wet skin gliding effortlessly together, on the perfect arch of her back, on the view of her pretty asshole winking with excitement.
“Odysseus,” she begged again, “Fuck me.”
Still, I resisted, slowly advancing again until I was completely buried inside her, her asscheeks pressing against me and pussy tightening around my cock.
“Fuck me,” she begged. Again, slightly louder, she demanded, “Fuck me.”
Finally, she rose to her hands, stared over her shoulder, and, with a witchy green fire in her eyes that I’ll remember to the day I die, she screamed, “FUCK ME!”
I dropped every inhibition, giving myself completely to my lust for this voluptuous goddess. I let loose a torrent of thrusts that shook the bed violently. Our fucking was primal, shrieks and growls filling the room as the slurps and smacks of our bodies filled the space.
I leaned over her as I pushed the hem of her dress up to her armpits, her heavy tits bouncing freely beneath her. I fondled them roughly, pinching her nipples, entranced by the soft fullness of her chest.
I stood back up as she cooed approvingly, focusing on fucking her with the vigor that a goddess deserves from her hero. Her asscheeks, slamming against my hips, turned red from the repeated impact.
“Cum for me, Circe,” I pleaded breathlessly. “Cum for your captive hero.”
I smacked her ass with an open hand and she collapsed onto her chest, “Uhhh, fuuuck” being the only sound she managed to make. I spanked her again. Her toes curled as she squealed.
She was cumming for me.
Determined to join her, I thrust once, twice, three more times. On the fourth, my testicles tightened and I erupted. I gasped and moaned as I stared down at her perfect ass and thighs, my cock pulsating time and time again. I slowed my thrusting, milking my cock with her twitching pussy as gobs of our conjoined fluid dripped onto the mattress below.
I glanced up to where her face lay smashed against the page of my book that had Odysseus climbing into bed with Circe, a small blot of drool soaking into the page. As I let my exhausted cock bathe in the warm wetness of her womanhood, I smiled with a sigh.
I was now captive on Circe’s island. And I never planned on leaving.
