Pleasuring herself with the rarely found stone cocks, or with less firm toys she could purchase, over the centuries had its fine points. Namely, the inexhaustible hardness. But it could also be frustratingly limiting in the way of variety.
A stone carving couldn’t hold her, couldn’t kiss her, couldn’t press its mouth to her pussy, tease and wet her ass, coax her to relax enough to drive deep into every wanting orifice of her body. A statue couldn’t speak to her, couldn’t flatter her with adoration of her beauty, of her thick auburn hair, her jade-green eyes, her ample breasts and slender waist. A man carved in stone couldn’t love her…and he couldn’t betray her either.
The last was all that mattered. Medusa refocused her thoughts, banishing once and for all the melancholy nonsense of her heart. The only good man was a man of stone, hard to find and good to find hard.
She rocked her hips, slid her pussy along the slick head of its cock, centering herself. Her toes curled as the hard shaft pressed inside her, smoothing between the tight clench of her walls, zinging sensation to every corner of her body.
The chilly hilt of its sex touched her outer lips. She pushed up, drawing the long cock back through her, a slow build of pressure welling through her groin.
A night breeze tingled over her breasts, cooled the exposed lower portion of the gargoyle’s cock. The icy feel of stone slipping inside her as she came down again only added to the breath-stealing tingle of pleasure.
She filled her pussy with the fat, hard shaft, stroked it in and out of her body. Her juice flooded through her, each thrust churning more from her body until the granite cock was greased slick. Medusa pumped her body faster, her pussy hugging tight so every carved ripple of stone skin sent a new wave of sensation shooting through her.
Her back arched, she rubbed her breasts and her tingling nipples against the stone chest. Faster, deeper, harder, she slammed her body down onto the pillar of stone until each impalement brushed her clit against the hard curl of pubic hair at its groin. The bite of sensation ripped through her, making her rock her hips to feel it again and again.
She writhed on top of the stone monster, fucking its hard cock, tossing her head, arching her back, propelling herself faster, faster. Wicked pleasure tightened every muscle in her body, zinged along her skin, coiled deep in her belly. Her pussy tightened and flexed, adrenaline building, pressing against her flesh, pushing her to give in to the need squeezing through every fiber of her body.
Not yet. She wanted more. She wanted to ride the stone monster’s cock all night.
But without warning her resolve faltered, and a gush of hot release flooded through her. Her breath caught, then shuddered from her mouth with the flutter of muscles pulsating in her sex. Her orgasm drenched the stone she pumped between her legs as she rode the last sweet spasms of her body. But just when she finally slowed to a stop, the stone cock between her legs…twitched.
Uphir’s hands latched on to the feminine hips straddling his lap on reflex. The sensation of her wet pussy muscles quivering around his cock was so mind-numbing he nearly let them both plummet to the sharp slope below.
He pumped his massive wings, set the two of them aloft again. The woman clung to him, a ghostly reflex of her old, mortal life, no doubt. Uphir knew her for what she was—a goddess. No mortal woman could undo a goddess’s curse. No mortal woman could undo him. He sent them higher, his cock still hard as stone—or nearly—inside her.
Hell’s bells, she felt good around him, tight and wet, her pussy muscles still milking his cock with quick little spasms. He rocked his hips, lifting her as he did, so his sex slipped through her walls, stroked his shaft. Her pussy clenched, hugging him so tight he nearly blew his control right there.
Uphir pumped in and out of her again, creating an odd rhythm with the flap of his wings, but no more difficult than walking and chewing gum. By the fourth stroke, her desire loosened the knot of her arms around his neck and the lock of her ankles around his waist. He drove into her again, ramming his cock as deeply as he sensed she’d taken him in stone.
The woman reeled back, nails digging into his shoulders, arms straight, angling her body to drive his sex deeper. Her long auburn curls spilled over her shoulders, and her breasts were offered up to him, their pert tips accented by rosy circles and hard, puckered nipples.
His next hard thrust ripped a gasp from her throat, set her straight again so those magnificent green eyes opened wide on him. Their gazes met, but a moment before she focused, her brows drew tight.
“Bastard.” Her eyes clouded to milky white even as the word hissed from her lips. All that beautiful hair began to twist and writhe about her head, snakes slithering, forked tongues darting in and out.
Uphir snatched her chin with one hand, wrenched her head so that lethal gaze cast out into the night. “Uh-uh, little goddess. I’ve already felt a stony gaze such as yours. We’ll finish what you’ve started before another of you curses me to granite again.”
But he couldn’t take her body as he wanted while one hand held her aloft with him, and the other kept her gaze aimed in a safe direction. He lowered them to the castle keep, pinning her back to one of the higher projections of stone circling the top of the tower like a crown.
Breath huffed out of the woman when her back hit the stone and he rammed his cock deep, hard, mercilessly. How long had it been—centuries, eons, an eternity? Uphir could hardly remember when last he’d felt the soft, feminine embrace of a woman’s body on his.
He was beyond restraint, beyond gentleness. And, as she was a goddess with a proclivity for turning men to stone, he felt little guilt in his rough abandon. He’d met her kind once before, and found nothing pleasant in the remembrance of it.
The goddess struggled against him, but only served to wiggle herself lower onto his cock. Her protests be damned, the female enjoyed his cock inside her.
Uphir tucked his head beneath her chin, his eyes safe from her angry gaze, his hand free to do as he liked. He spied her breasts, flush and full, white creamy flesh quaking with each hard thrust. He raised a hand, then remembered his thick, clawed appendages and hadn’t the concentration or strength of will to alter his form to human.
“Forgive me, m’lady,” he said, though his words were more a growl. “It’s been too long, and your immortal flesh is resilient enough to risk.”
He took her tiny, pebbled nipple between his fingers, careful not to nick her flesh with his razor claws. He twisted and rolled the hard little nub, and even in this thick-skinned form the feel of her was an erotic appeal that triggered everything male inside him. His hips thrust hard on reflex, driving his sex deep, ramming her body against the stone wall.
She gasped, though her body softened, her sex stretching, taking all of him. His enormous hand engulfed her breast, his long, pointed tongue flicking over the sensitive tip. She wiggled against him, pushing her little hips into him, coaxing his pace.
“Ah, the little minx likes when the monster fucks her back,” he said. He pumped into her again and again, churning sensation through his body.
His heart shuddered, filling his veins with the hot sear of lusty blood. His chest squeezed at the feel of his cock sliding through the tight hug of her pussy. Her cream spilled over his balls, wetting his thighs. Her wriggling and rocking quickened, grew frenzied, as though she’d pleasure herself with his body, his pleasure be damned.
Like hell. He wasn’t stone now, to be used, to be ignored. He’d fuck her better than she’d ever been fucked if not for her worrisome gaze.
“What is it you want, my little goddess?” he asked, without risking a glance at her face.
“More,” she said on a shaky breath. “More. Faster. Do it.”
His muscles snapped tight at her plea. “Close your eyes, you vengeful wench, and I’ll fuck you raw.”
“Yesss…”