Gay Erotic Stories

Long, long ago there dwelt, in the city of Athens, a sculptor named Pygmalion. He it was who, at an early age, came of the opinion that women were the cause of men's ills, and so early he came to despise them. Yet, although he scorned their presence, still he admired their physical forms and set about to create a statue more lovely, more desirous, more lifelike than any of the women he had seen. Many quarries he did scour, searching for the perfect marble slab from which to carve his heart's desire. At last he laid his eyes upon one that seemed to be the size he needed, and in his studio, he set about to carve from it, the statue he saw in his mind's eye. Long he laboured, long he toiled, his cutting tools chipping here and here, his scraping tools slicing through the marble, his burnishing tools rubbing till the statue gradually took form. At length, after many months of careful and delicate work, the deed was done, Pygmalion so designing the statue that, if he desired, it could sit on a chair at the table with him while he ate and he could slip tiny morsels of food between its parted lips and hollow mouth. So finely detailed was this statue crafted that Pygmalion could lay it upon his bed, place himself between its legs and thrust his hard member deep into the hollow sexual cavity he had so fashioned. Alternatively, if he so desired, the statue could be placed on its hands and knees so that Pygmalion, by lifting his hips, could penetrate the statue's mouth with his own member whilst licking upon the marble creature's own intricately-carved vulva whilst he stroked the smooth stone breasts with their delicately pointed nipples. Day after day, he lavished his attentions upon the woman of his dreams, laying baubles and fruits and flowers at her feet, garbing her naked form with decorative fabrics from all over the known world, placing rings upon her fingers, necklaces about her neck, earrings upon her ears, and in time, he called her his wife. But alas! after a year of such dallying, Pygmalion became bored and frustrated, wishing the statue could embrace him for real. Thus it came about during the festival of Aphrodite, that Pygmalion kissed his "wife" good-bye---feeling the coldness of her stone lips upon his own---and went to the temple to sacrifice to the goddess. And there he prayed, "I know that the gods can do all things, and I ask that you would---" He stopped, not really desiring to say that he wanted his marble virgin to be his wife. Instead, he murmured, "---give me one like unto my marble virgin to be my wife." After he came away from Aphrodite's temple, he felt that he had made a foolish request and slowly walked the short distance to his home. He opened the door, kissed his statue, and turned to remove his cloak and undergarments, preparing himself for his bath. He stopped. Looked back at the statue. Was it possible...? For he had not felt cold stone upon his lips, but the warmth of another's flesh. He kissed the statue again. His heart leapt within him with shock as, indeed, he touched naked lips once again. Pygmalion staggered back a few steps, gazed upon his marble creation as, slowly, its stone surface flushed and softened, it sighed and its breasts began to rise and fall as it took its first breath. Tears welled up from the sculptor's eyes as Life entered the woman of his dreams. Sightless eyes colored and gazed upon him with love and adoration. Pygmalion moved forward, took the new-formed woman into his arms and held her close, his lips pressing against her own, his heart hammering against that of his love. She responded, her arms encircling him, embracing him, feeling the hardness of his member insinuating itself between her thighs. Down to the floor Pygmalion lowered himself, his wife upon him, impaling herself upon his shaft, and he felt his engorged shaft at last fill the emptiness of her bowels. He thrust into her, she riding him long, her hips rolling upon his own, cries of new-found ecstasy rising from both their lips, crying out to Aphrodite with thanks and praise for the union of their bodies, the meeting of their souls, the joining of their spirits, the melding of their lives forever. More from HotScribe at http://adult14.100free.com/users/hotscribe and http://www.cadvision.com/woodheam