By the time they reached the crest of the hill and the shadows of the forest, the sky was black, and the broad sash of the milky way had emerged over their heads like a river of stars. It was the third and most sacred night of the festival of Dionysus and the moon was at her full, the air dry yet gentle with just a hint of the autumnal excitement that always signaled His coming. Here on the crown of the hill, where the deep pine forest gave way to scattered oak trees, the leaves had not yet begun to turn, and nature was still at her richest and most generous, though the crickets and cicadas were singing in the tall grass, prophets of the fall to come.

The four youths emerged over the brow of the hill, laughing and talking. Helene and Penelope held each other up, weary from the climb, wreaths of ivy in their hair. Meneus and Telemachus danced after them, blankets and wineskins slung over their backs. The boys alternately urged the girls on and teased them, jumping at them with fearful roars, spreading their hands like claws, making them shriek with laughter. All of them were excited, giggling, a bit drunk on the wine they had drunk earlier, Dionysus' gift to man, but intoxicated even more by the wild spirit of the god and by the anticipation of what they were going to do.

"Oh, for the gods' sake! Would you two act your age!" Penelope said, trying not to laugh, "We're not children. We don't scare."

"You'll be scared enough when you see him! The body of a bull, the face of a man, and a cock as long as my arm! Coming right for you, my sweetie!"

Helene laughed and ducked away as Telemachus jumped at her, grabbing for her robe and pulling it so that one of her ripe young breasts was briefly exposed to the light of the moon. She shrieked and pulled her chiton back into place and held it tight, but tight enough so that her breast still showed clearly. Telemachus laughed, but his laughter couldn't conceal his real excitement.

Meneus spread his arms out beneath the stars and whirled about.

"Isn't this more like it?" he asked. "No parents, no chaperones, no priests or gloomy oracles!"

"And no theater and no games." Helene said. "Telemachus, I hope this is worth it. I hope we're not missing the third night of the festival just to come up here and be bitten by bugs."

"Don't worry about the bugs," Telemachus said. "You're more likely to be bitten by something else!"

He grabbed Helene's arm, reached down and pinched her firm ass through her robe, making her squeal with laughter.

"Shhh, you two!" Meneus said. He'd stopped at the very edge of the woods where the grass of the field ended and the carpet of pine needles began. "It is somewhere along here where they come. Nereon said that there were two oak trees like sentinels that guard their path through the woods. And then they come out here and dance in this field, right above the town."

"Meneus you can stop joking," Penelope said. She was the youngest of the group and therefore had to appear brave. "You've gotten us up here. You can stop the fairy tales."

"Fairy Tales nothing!" Meneus said. "Nereon doesn't lie. He said the procession comes out of the forest and runs along this hill top, and always on the third night of the Festival. He saw the torches himself three years ago during the last Dionysia."

"And he ran for his life!" Telemachus said, laughing.

"Of course he ran," Meneus said. "Otherwise the Bacchae get you, if not the God himself. That's no joke."

"And?" Helene asked suggestively

"[I]And[/I]" Telemachus mocked, "[I]And[/I] you know what. The Bacchae [I]fuck[/I] you to death and tear you to pieces if you don't satisfy their lust"

He used the word intentionally, hoping to see its effect on Penelope, but she was already too excited. It was her first time alone with boys in the darkness, and even in the moonlight it was obvious how aroused she was.

"[I]Evoe! Dionysus! Evoe! Evoe! Diomethys![/I]" she called in a whisper to the forest.

Telemachus laughed loudly. "That's it! Call him, Penelope! Let him take all of us! It's probably the only way I'm going to get laid tonight. [I]Dionysus! Evoe![/I]"

Helene elbowed him playfully. "He'd kill you in a second is he found you! He doesn't want men. Only women. Only women can be Bacchae!"

"Not true!" Telemachus snapped. "Transvestites too! Men can dress like women and dance with him too! Right Meneus?"

"I don't know. That's what I've heard, but I'm no priest." Meneus drank from the skin, holding it up and letting the wine pour into his mouth. It was unwatered, heady stuff. "But mostly his followers are women, and married women at that. Though they say that He will occasionally take a virgin and deflower her."

"Virgins, huh?" Telemachus said, "Then not even Penelope is safe! Better hurry, Meneus, if you want to be the first!"

"Hush! You!" Helene pushed him and Telemachus almost stumbled, he was laughing so hard.

Penelope blushed and Meneus felt his face grow hot as well. They all knew that Penelope was a virgin; there was no need to tease her for it. And, truth be told, Helene was little better. Though she acted experienced, she was hardly old enough for her to have known more than one lover's hurried caress in her young life. But that one time had apparently been enough to leave her eager for more.

"Tell us, Meneus," she said, trying to regain some dignity, "Will we hear them when they're coming? [I]If[/I] they're coming? And what should we do if they do come?"

"Nereon said that they make a noise in the forest like hunters pursuing a wild boar, with a lot of crashing and trampling and loud cries, only they are the sounds of women's voices, not men's. The play cymbals and the aulos too, krotala and sistrum, and above all the banging and the women singing and shouting you can hear the god himself in the form of a bull, lowing and snorting. He said it was altogether a fearful sound."

"Does He always come as a bull?" Penelope asked.

"No. Sometimes as a man. A beautiful youth."

"A queer, you mean!" Telemachus said laughing. "He goes both ways, doesn't he, Meneus? Just like the Spartans!"

"And then there are the torches." Meneus went on, ignoring his friend. "Some of the Bacchae carry torches, and you can see them coming through the trees." He was aware that he had their attention now, and he lowered his voice for drama. "The women look wild, like animals, driven by their wild desires, and the god's power is like a wind that tosses them to and fro as they run and dance before their Lord. Some of them have blood in their mouth and on their hands, blood from the men they kill in their savage passion."

"Wooooo!" Telemachus wailed in a low and spooky voice, then laughed. "Sounds like just what I like in a woman: biting and scratching."

Helene slapped him playfully with a piece of ivy.

Aware that he'd lost his audience, Meneus scanned along the edge of the forest. Sure enough, there were two large oak trees standing like sentinels, a stone's throw from where the darkness of the forest began.

"There." he said, leading them over to the spot. "These must be the trees. Let's spread our blankets just outside the trees, in the shadows."

"Not us." Telemachus said. "We want some privacy. We'll go into the woods. That way we can let you know when the fun begins." He leaned over Penelope and made a face. "Don't be too scared!"

Meneus spread out their blanket in the soft grass, just within the shadow of the big oaks.

"Wait!" Telemachus said. "We should give him a libation to make sure he comes!"

He unslung the skin from his back and put it between his legs, then pulled the stopper and let some run onto the ground, holding the neck as if he were pissing.

"There you go! [I]Evoe![/I] Dionysus, master! Bromius! Come to us!"

Helene couldn't contain her laughter at his antics and Telemachus himself laughed as he raised the skin and drank, letting the wine seep down his chest. It was the first of the new wine, dark and still sweet with sugar from the grape.

He gestured for Helene to open her mouth and he held the skin above her head. But as she stood there with her mouth open Telemachus let the wine spill on her chest, wetting her chiton and making her scream with laughter. The sight of her young nipples beneath the wine-soaked cotton of her tunic made Meneus' cock begin to swell.

Helene swung at Telemachus who laughed and ran off towards the dark woods with her in pursuit. Meneus and Penelope watched until their friends' white tunics faded into the darkness beneath the trees and their laughter and playful shouts were lost in the quiet of the woods.

Penelope turned and sat down on the blanket, hugging her knees to her.

"Meneus? Do you believe it?" she asked. "The stories about the gods and all?"

He shrugged. He wasn't really that many more years older than she was and he was flattered that she should ask his opinion.

"The stories about Zeus and Hera?" he asked, sitting down. "I don't know. I'm sure many of them are just stories. But do the Gods come down and mix with us mortals? I don't know. I think so, but only by what others tell me."

"And the stories about Dionysus?"

Sitting therein the moonlight with her knees drawn up, her hair so carefully arrayed atop her head, held in place by ribbons and crowned by the wild ivy of the field, she looked so lovely and perfect that he felt his heart give a twinge in his chest. He felt a strong stirring of desire for her.

"I don't know." he said. "He's not like the other gods. He drives men mad, women too. What is the purpose of a god who does that? I think maybe he's just made up; an excuse people use to act crazy and let themselves do whatever they want. I think his followers must be deluded. They let themselves go nuts and say it is the god's work."

"Telemachus doesn't believe." she said.

He felt a sudden pang of jealousy. "Telemachus doesn't know everything."

He would have said more but words seemed suddenly out of place. He turned to look at her. From where they sat they could see the town far below them, lit by torches and oil lamps. The theater must have let out by now and the citizens were thronging the street for the crowning of the playwright and the dancing to follow. Still, the town seemed no more than a reflection of the wild river of stars that ran over their heads. Surely this was a sacred spot, somehow set apart.

There was a sweet wind blowing across the hilltop and it tossed Penelope's curls and the ivy leaves that crowned her head. It lifted the hem of her chiton, showing her smooth legs in the moonlight. There was something wild about this place, something exciting. This was where the wildwood began, where the reach of the town ended, and they felt as though they sat at the border of some great mystery.

"Wine?" he asked.

"No wine, Meneus," she said leaning against him. He felt the warm softness of her young breasts against his shoulder as she whispered in his ear, "I want you now."

He turned to her, surprised by her forwardness, and saw the look of excited expectation in her eyes, even through the moon shadows cast across her face by the leaves of the trees. She had been waiting for so long to be alone with him, and now she was tired of waiting.

He found her lips and he forgot the forest, forgot Dionysus as he sunk into her sweet, expectant kiss. She was so innocent she didn't even know what to do and she waited for him to show her, her lips pressed to his. Meneus dropped the wineskin and took her shoulders in his hands. He opened his mouth against hers and reached for her with his tongue, teaching her.

With a whimper of urgency Penelope fell back on the blanket and Meneus covered her body with his own, feeling her warmth. Now that she knew what to do with her mouth, she was all over him with all the eagerness of her youth and with a boldness that surprised both of them. He felt her tremble as his hands found her body beneath her chiton and took her breasts in his hands, small and perfect, her nipples already stiff with excitement.

"Penelope�" he sighed as she kissed him.

In her excitement she rolled him over on his back and he let her, amused at her audacity. He hadn't expected her to be such an eager lover, but perhaps there truly was some excitement in the air from the Dionysia. Perhaps even Penelope felt its effects.

He felt her hands hurriedly parting his cloak, searching for him, and he lie uncomplaining on his back beneath the stars, waiting to see what she would do. She grasped the hem of his tunic and threw it back, suddenly exposing his cock, erect and proud like a column of ivory in the silvery moonlight, his foreskin back, the head glistening. She gasped with excitement.

"Oh Meneus!" she said, taking his cock in her small hand. "It's magnificent!"

He laughed. "It's the first one you've ever seen." he said.

Penelope objected. "Not so. I've seen the boys in the gymnasium."

"But not erect."

"No," she said, "Not like this!" She slid down his body for a closer look.

"Let me kiss it, Meneus! May I kiss it? Oh, I must!"

He watched astonished as she lowered her face to his cock and planted a soft, wet kiss on it, then opened her mouth and took him inside. Never had a girl done this to him before, and he certainly hadn't expected it of little Penelope. It filled him with sudden hot lust for her, not just from the sensation but from the appearance of her subservience as she closed her eyes in bliss, holding him in her hot wet mouth, exploring him with her tongue. He wondered briefly where she had learned such a thing, but then as her pink lips slid up the length of his aching rod he stopped thinking of anything.

The entire world seemed to go silent and watch as Penelope slaved over his loins, sucking on him with her soft, virginal mouth.

There was a sharp, sudden sound from within the forest and Penelope froze. Meneus sat up in alarm, pulled her quickly off his cock and stared intently into the shadows.

But then they heard Helene's rich laugh come from the darkness and they both relaxed.

Meneus took Penelope's shoulders and pushed her down on the blanket. he stood up and stripped off his tunic, but before he could sink down on the blanket again Penelope had taken off her own and lie there on the blanket, as perfect as a pearl in the moonlight, waiting for her lover.

Helene had been waiting to get Telemachus alone since they'd snuck away from the town and met Meneus and Penelope outside the walls. She knew what the third night of the Dionysia meant, a night of sex and license, and she was eager to feel the embrace of this boy she was so intoxicated with. From the time they'd begun the climb she'd been in a state of high arousal, knowing what they would do when they got beyond the reach of the town, and now her need was almost unbearable.

No sooner had they reached the shadows of some than Helene began teasing Telemachus, rubbing against him and urging him on. Groping and grabbing each other they made their way into the darkness of the woods until they found a spot where the moonlight showed an old oak standing alone in a small clearing. Telemachus pulled Helene to him and pushed her back against the thick trunk. He held her pinned by her shoulders as he ducked his head and sucked the wine from her wet tunic, lingering over her breasts and sucking her nipples into his mouth.

Though not much older than Penelope, Helene was more developed with a full, womanly tits that drove him wild. It was her breasts that attracted him again, and he let go of her shoulders so that he could hold them both up to his mouth and squeeze them as he sucked and licked her nipples through the wine-soaked fabric, making her moan and twist with pleasure.

Helene felt a flood of lust upon her, and forgetting all inhibition reached boldly down his body for Telemachus' hard column of meat. The touch of it thrilled her and instinctively she began milking his cock like it was a cow's teat, anxious to have him inside her, making him growl as he feasted on her soft tits.

"Oh Telemachus!" she gasped, "I need you now! Fuck me now! Don't wait!"

She raised one long leg and wrapped it around his thighs, pulling him to her as her fingers fumbled at the clasp at his shoulder. She managed to release it at last, and the thin garment slid from his body, leaving him naked, his strong body dappled with shadows from the oak leaves above. To her eyes and her hands he was like a god, muscular and powerful, and she ached for him to enter her so she could feel his strength and desire.

Telemachus' fingers were clumsy with need and she helped him with her own chiton, freeing the clasps and stripping the garments off, revealing her in all her naked beauty. Telemachus stared. He was more experienced than Helene, but still most of that experience had been hurried and taken in secret, and he had rarely been given the opportunity to enjoy a woman's nakedness as he was now.

He ran his hand down her stomach and into the sparse, willowy hair over her mound, then hooked his fingers beneath her and entered her where she was most sensitive, making her cling to him and bite his shoulder to stifle her cry of hot need.

"Bend your knees," he hissed, "I want to take you just like this."

"Yes!" she gasped, putting her hands around his neck and staring into his eyes. "And then?"

"And then I'll bend you over and take you from behind, like a master takes his slave, fucking you like the hot bitch you are!"

His words inflamed her and she tilted her hips up at him as he struggled to fit the head of his cock between her legs. It was clumsy, awkward, but their desire was so intense that they managed, gasping and panting, and she finally felt the broad head of his prick pushing between her lips.

"Oh Telemachus I'm so hot for you!" she panted as she felt him enter her. "I want to be your whore, Telemachus. I want to be your slave for tonight. Make me do anything you wish, just fuck me, fuck me! Ahhhh!"

She groaned, her back arching as he slid into her, his fat cock forging a passage through her tight sheath, opening her up without mercy. She bit her lip and wailed in wild pleasure as he took her, shoving her tits forward into his open mouth where he began to suck and lick on them.

"Oh fuck me! Fuck me!" Helene's voice rose in a hot crescendo. In her short experience she had never felt anything like what she was feeling now. His prick was hard and brutal inside her, and his hot lust fired her own with each delicious, bruising thrust.

"On the ground!" he hissed urgently, pulling out of her, and at once Helene lay down on the soft bed of fir and oak leaves, not even bothering with the blanket.

She felt the soft earth still warm from the sun under her back as she spread her thighs for her lover, and Telemachus quickly got on his knees and entered her again, taking her breasts in his hands and smothering her cries with his mouth.

Helene gave herself over to his desire. His hard cock filled her; his fat balls slapped against her ass as he fucked her hard and deep, holding nothing back. She moaned hotly and wrapped her arms around his strong back, crushing her breasts against him.

And then she felt it: that hot, absolute pleasure she knew only from playing with herself alone in her own bed. It was now riding down upon her now with the force of Telemachus' hard fucking, the wet sluicing of his thick cock in and out of her, the way he drove her ass into the soft earth on every other stroke. She was going to come on his hard cock, and the thought made her wild with a delirium of lust.

Then Telemachus stopped, freezing on top of her. "Huh? What was that?"

"What? What? Don't stop! Not now!" Helene cried, her hips still moving against him, so close.

Telemachus scrambled off her and crouched between her legs looking off into the dark woods, all his senses alert.

"Listen!" he said.

All Helene could hear was the pounding of her own heart in her ears. In her desperation she reached down and began to rub her pussy with her own hand, seeking that orgasm that was dangling just out of reach.

"Quiet!" Telemachus hissed, grabbing her wrist. "Listen! They're coming."

Helene felt a sudden chill when she saw his eyes, bright in the darkness, wild with lust and fear. She made herself hold her breath and listen.

There was a sound, a din in the forest, and it was getting closer. She heard voices, women's voices, rising and falling, keening like the ocean wind around high rocks, occasionally punctuated by a scream that raised the hairs on the back of her neck: the cry of a woman either in pain or at the peak of her sexual pleasure.

But in her need Helene didn't care about the Bacchae anymore. Let them come, let them watch. This was what they wanted anyhow, wasn't it? The sexual coupling of a man and a woman. This was their holy sacrament, their form of worship, obeisance to the will of the god.

Now she heard a crashing, the sound of tambourines, another scream. She could see the light of the torches glisten behind the dark tree trunks. The sound filled her veins suddenly with molten lust. She sat up and grabbed Telemachus by the hair, saw his startled eyes as she dragged him down to the ground. She scrambled around on top of him, holding his shoulders to the earth..

His cock was still hard, glistening with her wetness. Holding him still with one hand on his shoulder, Helene straddled his hips, planted one foot on the ground and raised her pussy up. She let go of his hair and opened herself up with her other hand, then fit the big head of his stalk to her hole and sank down on him with a groan of deep relief.

"Helene! Get off me! We have to get out of here!"

"Fuck me!" she snarled down at him. "Fuck me hard, you prick! Fuck me and make me come!"

She gave him no time to obey. She got both feet under her and held his shoulders down as she bounced up and down on his aching hardness, gasping and moaning in pleasure. Her dark hair fell from her head, the ivy hung in her face and he could see her expression, wild and feral, a woman in the full flush of female heat, desperate for cock.

"Oh gods of Heaven!" she wailed. "I'm going to come on your fucking cock! Oh! Oh!"

Her cry of hysterical release rose and then choked off in her throat, and in the brief, unearthly silence Telemachus could hear the cries and moans of the Bacchae coming closer, the clash of symbols, and the deep lowing of a great bull.

Helene arched her back on top of him, offering her tits up to heaven as her stomach knotted and clenched with the fury of her orgasm. He felt her squeeze him inside. he felt his own release gather in his balls, his ass, hot pleasure lance down his legs. The drumming was louder, the cymbals clashing. There were lights all around them.

"[I]Evoe! Dionysus! Evoe! Io![/I]"

He heard the voices of the women around him now, loud, impassioned, but it was as if a great black wind had caught him up and the earth fell away from his back as he was lifted up and twisted about. Helene's spasming cunt was pulled from his tool and with it his semen began to spurt into the air in hot, fulsome gouts, jetting into the dark night. There were faces around him, women's faces, contorted into expressions of lust and orgasm; something hot and wet upon his spurting cock, a mouth, sucking, fingers massaging his balls, pushing into his anus. Breasts pushed into his mouth. He couldn't stop coming.

Helene, still quaking with orgasm felt herself grabbed under the arms and pulled up and off him. She felt something beneath her, the body of an animal, huge and powerful. she could feel the hard muscles rolling slowly beneath the skin, the animal heat and stink. She was looking up into the sky through the trees, seeing the great swath of stars above her, and then there were hands and mouths all over her, holding her ankles apart, holding her wrists down against the beast's great roiling flanks. She was being kissed along her thighs and the soft mouth of a woman sucked at her pussy, sucked the juice from her body as more lips fastened on her nipples.

Her legs bucked and shook as another orgasm tore through her body. She knew that she was atop the god now, that she was spread open upon the terrible body of holy Dionysus, and that it was his pleasure that was filling her and driving her mad. She looked at the stars as they blazed with color and she knew that she was up there too, riding the sky with the wonderful Bull of the Mountains. The hollow moon too had no secrets from her and she knew all things as she came and she felt the divinity plunge into her soul like an enormous turgid cock, burning hot and swollen with the semen of stars, the virility of all creation. Impossible pleasure gushed from her as the god's cock thrust at her from the far end of the earth, splitting her open and obliterating her in a cascade of ecstasy.

She heard Telemachus screaming but there was already such a din of cymbals and sistra, tambourines and shouting that it meant nothing to her. She could not focus her eyes and she could not stop coming, writhing in ecstasy, her eyes filled with the images of the woman's breasts and legs, white teeth and flashing nails as they bent over something and tore at it with their hands and mouths

Then she was on the ground and women were pulling her to her feet, garlanding her with ivy and smearing her face with something warm: semen or blood, she didn't know which and it hardly mattered. The crash of cymbals was loud in her ears, and the spell of the god was upon her. Joy and fevered desire ran over her and through her like a tempest as the women sucked at her and kissed her, and Helene kissed them back, opening her legs, her mouth; all she had she opened to this divine presence.

She lost sight of Telemachus, lost sight of everything in the wild frenzy of primal sex and desire. She was on the ground, another women leaning over her, kissing her mouth as she shoved her fingers between Helene's legs and pumped and Helene's hips rose to the woman's strokes as the cries rang around her, cries of lust and carnal desire, cries of women satisfying their own needs, letting themselves be plundered and used, even as they used others. Her body shook as if with the force of thunder but thunder more sweet than anything she'd ever known. She opened her mouth to the other woman's fevered kisses as her body teetered on the edge of an abyss of ecstasy.

She wouldn't fight, she couldn't resist. He was all about her, Dionysus, her God, her Lord. It was as if he held her up to his mouth and drank pleasure from her body, and she would deny him nothing. She let it pour out of her.

Helene screamed as she came again, her body arching up like a bow, her young loins thrusting obscenely up onto the older woman's impaling hand which pumped at her even as the woman fed her breast into Helen's open mouth and groaned as the girl sucked at her in her ecstasy.

And then she was on her feet, breathless and dizzy. The woods spun around her as she staggered after the wild party of half-clothed and naked women. It was not a question of following or not: the god was in their midst, a huge black bull adorned with flowers and ivy, capering and tossing his enormous head, and all must follow, throwing themselves on his powerful back, covering him with kisses, falling to their knees in adoration of the monstrous cock that thrust up beneath him; a man's cock but impossibly big, from which oozed a stream of lubricious fluid, precum and holy semen, and those who could reached out and filled their hands with this chrism and smeared it on their faces, over their breasts and cunt, its touch brought instant rapture.

Helene was weeping with joy and excitement and the world was a smear of flesh and darkness as she adorned herself with the plants of the field and pulled boughs from the trees to wave about the god: Dionysus, the Lord of the Wild Mountain, Bromius, who drives all mad.

Penelope heard them coming just as Meneus was about to take her at last, his phallus poised to enter her and finally fulfill her desire and make her a woman.

"No, no!" she begged him, wrapping her slim legs around him. She lifted herself up, trying to impale herself on his cock as he stood over her on his hands and knees, his face frozen in fear as he heard them too. "Fuck me now! Meneus! You must!"

"They are coming!" he said, his face white. "The Bacchae! They'll kill me! Let me go, Penelope! Let me go!"

They could hear the cries now, the terrible shrieks of the women, the earth shaking lowing of the great bull.

She would not let him go even though she felt them too, felt them as a sudden rush of hunger in her virgin cunt so intense that nothing mattered but having him pierce her at once and fill her with his hard male strength. She urged her body up at him, her hips rolling obscenely as she tried to find a way to take him inside. She clung to him with one leg around his back and the strength of her arms as he tried to free himself of her embrace, tried to get to his feet and failed.

His feet found no purchase on the soft earth and he stumbled and fell on top of her, and as he fell his cock pierced her like a sword.

"Agghh!" Penelope screamed as his member tore into her, ripping the curtain of her virginity aside, spearing into her depths, farther than she had thought possible. She felt the blood begin to seep from her and looked up to see Meneus' handsome face wild with fear, not even knowing what he'd done.

He looked over his shoulder even as she clutched him reflexively inside her, and then seeing that there was no escape from the madness that rode down upon them he turned back to her and surrendered to his own lust. The spell of the god worked on him too and he grabbed her tight, pulled her to him. thrust himself into her to the very hilt and covered her open mouth with his own, smothering her cries of pain and pleasure.

Penelope's eyes rolled up into her head as she felt him stretch her virgin cunt with his wonderful hardness. She clung to him with all her strength and suddenly she felt the force of the god engulf her like a great wind and she was tossed and thrown about like foam on the ocean's tempest. All about her she saw the sharp light of the torches and her ears were filled with the chanting and moaning of the Bacchae, but she couldn't tell earth from heaven nor herself from the hands and mouths that reached for her and took her.

There were bodies all around her, above her and below her, women's bodies, writhing with need, taking her hands and making her touch them, sucking at her breasts and kissing her nipples, licking her with the tongues of animals. She felt hands on her ankles, pulling her apart, and more hands holding her wrists above her head, pressing her into the earth.

And Meneus. Where was Meneus? She was suddenly empty and aching, her virgin's blood still wetting her slit. She forced her eyes open as if against a driving wind, forced them open and found herself looking into the eyes of Dionysus, the living god.

The face was that of a youth, impossibly handsome, almost girlish, with no beard and hair wild and long that was twined with ivy and bryony and flowers of the mountain; and yet at the same time it was the face of a bull, raging in the pride of his lust. He was both and neither and yet the face didn't even matter because of what she saw in his eyes: a terrible depth and the light of stars, remote and cold and knowing no end. His eyes drew her in, pulled at her and she felt herself falling upwards to meet him as his mouth came down on hers and she tasted his breath in her mouth.

It was the taste of a man, and the taste of blood and wine, and of something more, something beyond tasting that filled her with the power and joy of her sex and of a pleasure beyond imagining. Her body rang like a gong with his implacable power and virility, as if stars burned within her.

And then she was looking up at the huge figure of the Bull, the enormous cock, bigger than a man's arm and dripping with come, hard, potent, and reaching for her. She knew she could not take him. It was impossible: she would die. He would split her open like a melon and she wept, thinking of her death in such a fashion amidst the insane cries of the Bacchae, the sucking mouths and eager hands.

And yet then the fear was gone. It was as if her soul knew what to do and she opened her thighs to him

His bulk blocked out the stars in the sky and she felt the heat from his body as he closed with her. The women chanted and cried out as he put the enormous glans against her tiny cunt, and Penelope was seized by a lust so terrible that she decided she would take him; she would take him or gladly die just for this moment. Her body thrust itself up to him of its own accord and she felt the god enter her.

He stretched her, hurt her, ripped her open and she screamed, but then He was alive within her and her ecstasy was immediate. With his touch she began to climax and she never stopped as he filled her with his prick, stuffed her to bursting with his virility and potency. She didn't split, she didn't die, and through some miracle she couldn't understand she was able to take him, take him all. He was in her and yet around her at the same time, as if his shaft surrounded her, enclosed her from within, and she found herself in the embrace of bliss so intense that tears streamed from her eyes. There were hands on her, pushing her and coaxing her, no longer holding her down, and she wrapped her limbs around his mighty body, felt his hard muscle as he worked his lust upon her. She held on as he rode her.

They soared up and beyond the earth, beyond the belt of stars as he fucked her, his cock as hard and as long as the marble pillars erected in his honor in the town square. With each thrust his hips seemed to draw back to the limits of the sky, and he sent his cock rushing home into her as if he were plumbing the depths of the sea in a rush of violent sensation. Penelope had never imagined such divine male power, such force and implacable desire, and as he was male, so she was female, giving herself to him again and again, joining her human passion to his divinity.

She could not tell what she was anymore, whether she was herself or whether she was the soft and fertile body of the earth, ripe for him, aching for him to plant his seed, pulsing with life, taking his strength from her and setting forth his vine, buds and leaves and clusters of fat grapes, swelling with juice. She felt him growing stronger inside her, harder, bigger, the incessant urgency of life itself. He held her to him and squeezed her like a bunch of grapes until she flowed like wine through his fingers

And then he burst within her. With a wild scream and a final surrender she felt herself fall too as she felt the god's seed gush into her in a blaze of glory, explosions of light illuminating a paradise of killing pleasure and darkness. She was lost to the world, certain she was dead, waiting only for the darkness to extinguish her completely. And then she felt him reach down and grab her, take hold of her as she slipped away and pull her back up into the light of the world and the hysterical cries of the revelers.

She opened her eyes now to the sky above her. She was dripping with sweat and soaked with wine and gism and beside herself with an ineffable joy as she looked up into the wild and handsome face of Meneus, lost in his own ecstasy as he jetted his seed into her body, his jaw clenched, his muscles shivering with the strain of his ejaculation.

With a final gasp he fell on top of her, sobbing for breath, and she felt his heart hammering in his chest, echoing hers where he pressed against her. In the distance she heard the wild screams and fading racket of the god's procession disappearing over the brow of the hill, torches blazing, like a thundercloud being blown out to sea.

Meneus' cock twitched once more inside her, the last bit of his semen oozing into her bruised and battered pussy. She had done it; she was a woman now and no one could deny it. She knew now what other women knew, and what they talked of with each other, and she knew why it was that when the harvest was in and the grapes crushed they left their homes and became Bacchae, following the god, dancing and singing into the mountains and wild places.

The wind blew against her sweat-soaked body, chilling her, but Meneus still trembling above her still kept her wonderfully warm. She felt the soft grass beneath her naked back and looked up into a sky ablaze with stars. Next