A Midsummer's Night's Dream

It was the full moon. The warm Greek night caressed his body. Michael loved that feeling, like the soft touch of a woman holding him in her arms. Stretched out on his bed, he could feel a cool breeze blowing across his skin, as if it were making love to him. He could feel his penis hardening into an erection. Even at his age his member was firm, proud, ready to serve. He rubbed himself gently. On the tip he could feel the sweet liquid beginning to flow.

He thought of the students who had arrived a week ago for one of his creative writing classes for adults. They were mostly first or second year undergraduates, but there were also older participants, people with more experience of working life and relationships. He taught his classes in Greece because he believed that, as the cradle of modern civilisation, it inspired young people, pushing them to feats of creativity impossible elsewhere.

Today they'd been looking at eroticism. Michael had read them stories by Anaïs Nin, his favourite author. The short stories they then produced showed that he had succeeded in unleashing their imagination.

Suddenly the door to his room burst open. Two young women, both students of his, came in, laughing. Had they been drinking? Whatever was the matter? They were in dressing-gowns, as if they were on their way to bed. Had they mistaken the room? Clearly not, for they quietly closed the door and walked towards him.

"You inspired us so much, Michael," says one of them. "We were talking about the class and Anaïs Nin and found we were a bit hot. Hot for you."

These two were Michael's most promising young writers, Gabrielle and Diane. They had each produced an erotic short story that had him hard as a horse. They were also, incidentally, the most beautiful women in the group - which was saying a lot since all of them, women and men, were creatures of extreme physical beauty. Naturally, it would never have occurred to him to make a move himself, knowing that his career and reputation would be at stake. But here were these two young women, both apparently attracted to him.

Without another word, they come and lie down each side of Michael. The bathrobes are thin, almost transparent. He feels their breasts against his chest. In turn, they haven't failed to notice his member, which hasn't lost any of its firmness, on the contrary, it's now pointing heavenwards, towards the abode of gods and goddesses, and they start to stroke it, exchanging glances and laughing gently.

Michael gives himself up to them. Gabrielle begins to kiss his penis, light pecks from bottom to top. Her lips are rather fleshy, soft like ripe peaches. It is an exquisite, delicate sensation. He feels the sap heating in him.

At the same time Diane (or, in Greek, Artemis), goddess of the moon and the hunt, nibbles his ear and the nape of his neck with her perfect teeth, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. What a feeling, these two beauties paying him such attention!

Michael's body reacts more and more strongly, twisting and arching to intensify the sensations. The two youngsters stroke his chest and the inside of his thighs, which drives him crazy. But he holds back, the better to enjoy this moment of three-way sensuality.

Eventually Michael feels he wants to take a closer look. He sits up, and delicately removes the robes. The women are now naked. He marvels at these two perfect bodies. Gabrielle has breasts round as apples and firm buttocks, also round, like small melons. That matches her writing style, he notes - mature, rounded, elegant. Her skin is a little tanned, and smooth like her written sentences, which follow one after the other without a break, like silk on the page.

Diane, taller, has the body of a goddess, fittingly enough, with pear-shaped breasts, and voluptuous, sensual buttocks and thighs. That too reflects her style -- as a writer she sculpts her sentences, and entire passages, into sensuous, glowing constructions, recalling the polished marble of Michelangelo's David.

Michael is silent before these beautiful bodies. Then he leans towards Gabrielle and takes one nipple in his mouth. At the same time he strokes Diane's thighs. The young women moan with pleasure and relief, as if they have been waiting for this for a while. Michael sucks Gabrielle's breast for a long moment. He is one of those oral people: sucking, kissing, licking, that's what he loves. Gabrielle presses his head against her chest and falls back on the bed. She gives little cries of pleasure and Michael starts moving between the two breasts, flicking each nipple lightly in turn with his tongue. Gabrielle touches herself between the legs. She's wet, she licks her fingers, then does the same again and this time offers the nectar to Michael, who first savours the intoxicating scent of woman and then sucks the proffered fingers.

Meanwhile he is massaging Diane's thighs, touching her clitoris with each movement. She is lubricating in floods. Michael loves this divine liquid, this ambrosia that the goddess offers, and he dips his fingers in it, and then brings them to his lips.

All three are now inextricably entwined on the bed, stroking, licking, kissing each other. Michael kisses both mouths in turn, he can't stand it any more, he's high on the sensations, his prick is hard as rock, he has to get relief.

He turns onto his back and puts Gabrielle's hand on his erection. She straddles him and puts it against her crack, which is still flowing with sweet-smelling juice.

Michael enters her and she moans with pleasure. He takes her two breasts in his hands, stroking the nipples, which are as stiff as his penis.

Diane wants Michael to drink more of her nectar, so she positions herself above his face, facing Gabrielle. Michael can see the engorged labia, like a flower dripping with honey, and, taking the luscious buttocks in his hands, brings the young woman down to his waiting tongue. As he seeks out her clitoris she cries out with pleasure and presses down on his hot mouth.

So Michael finds himself lapping at the well of the moon-goddess Artemis while finding much-needed relief inside the archangel Gabrielle. As for the two beauties, they find themselves face to face and begin to explore each other's mouths. Picture it: two pairs of soft lips above, with two tongues entwined; three pairs of lips below; and three voices, all resounding and moving to the archaic, classic, eternal rhythms of bodily enjoyment and pleasure.

Michael penetrates Diane more and more deeply with his tongue, Diane responds by thrusting her tongue further into Gabrielle's eager mouth, Gabrielle passes the current on by riding Michael faster and faster, each of them feels the mounting sensation, the friction of skin on skin, the body heating, the kisses hardening, one penis driving in, two vaginas swollen and wet, wet, wet, two clitorises engorged and supersensitive, Michael drinks more and more deeply of Diane's juices, the two women press their tongues down each other's throat, all at an ever more frenetic pace, until... Oooooh! Ooooh! Ooooooh! A perfect triple storm of a loving orgasm builds, they all shudder, all cry out, all moan, all tremble as it breaks over them with a pleasure so intense that it holds the three bodies in a seemingly never-ending grip of sensual, electric delight....

To be continued