In ancient times at the Temple of Apollo, the pederastic priests roamed about, receiving and serving the naughty sun god.
At Delphi, I, too, heard and heeded the call of the ancient god. I followed the forbidden path of Icarus, right up until I met my Maker, a masked, massive, masterpiece of callipygous proportions.
Apollo, bright and shiny, while seated in his solarium, greeted me at the door of his palace. He prepared me further for the sacred rite by giving me a hot bath and by anointing me with heated oil. He kneaded and parted my fleshy buttocks, grooming me with his well-placed tongue.
Finally, his engorged phallus entered and initiated me, and thoroughly mined my soul. It was a rousing, glorious chariot ride, during which he explored the excited interior regions of my dark star and traveled with me to my inner-sanctum of no return.
Yet, I, Pythia, was reborn to speak the truth to those who want to listen to the Oracle of Delphi!
