Jake takes the Muse home

Calliope did not remain passive forever; when she decided that her legs had received enough love she said in the sweet, warm voice:

“Stand up, Jake.”

The writer was slightly **** to abandon her fabulous legs, but the voice promised even greater rewards, so he stood up.

“Let’s go to a more comfortable place,” it was a suggestion, but for Jake it was a direct order.

“I live nearby!” he volunteered eagerly.

Her gaze said “I know,” but her words were different.

“Sounds wonderful.”

They did not magically teleport to the writer’s house, but simply walked there. Though some kind of magic must have been involved, because other pedestrians kept avoiding collision without noticing the pair. Again Calliope walked at a leisurely pace but, because of their height difference, Jake had to march; naturally this also was not a reason to complain. He thought that, if not for the heavily erotic context, the size disparity would have made him look like a kid on a walk with his mother. To get through each door of his house the muse had to bow her head; they went straight to the bedroom.

“You can take off my dress now,” Calliope said sweetly.

The writer had stripped his share of girls in his life, but never had to reach so high to pull down the straps of a dress, or a toga in this case. He slid the thin fabric down, exposing the rest of the muse’s magnificent body, most importantly her gigantic breasts. He let the toga fall onto the floor, as he stared at the marvellous globes right in front of his face.

“Unstrap my shoes,” Calliope asked, but to Jake it was a command which broke him out of the semi-hypnosis. He returned onto his knees and, after a short deliberation, managed to open the straps. The muse stepped out of her heels and the writer stood back up. The subtracted fifteen centimetres reduced their height difference, but she was still significantly taller than him.

“Let me help you with that,” Calliope said, as she reached for the top button on Jake’s shirt. While she dealt with that, he swiftly unbuckled his belt and pulled his trousers down. He might have been wearing more clothes than the muse, but got naked almost as quickly.

Calliope took two steps back and gracefully fell onto the bed, her huge breasts bounced invitingly when she landed; the sturdy piece of furniture accepted her mass without a single creak. Jake followed her without any additional prompts. The muse had not told him what kind of service she expected from him now, but he knew which part of her body HE craved to touch. The writer sat on top of Calliope, straddling over her hips, and reached down to grab her breasts’; now the height difference was no longer relevant. The muse rested her arms above her head which lifted her, already fully firm, breasts even higher. Jake acted almost as if he was seeing boobs for the first time in his life. He kneaded each with one palm with a broad, lustful smile on his face. He switched between gentle fondling and more possessive groping; sometimes he would hold one hand on each breast, other times he would grab one with both. The writer even bounced the boobs playfully, as if testing their firmness; Calliope accepted it all with an encouraging smile on her gorgeous face. Jake’s penis was fully erect, even though no-one had touched it yet; it stood proudly and eagerly above the muse’s belly.

Eventually the writer decided that mere touching was not enough; he got down on all fours and began to kiss Calliope’s left breast; he maintained the enthusiasm. His hand continued to grope the boobs, while his lips and tongue roamed over the huge, creamy globes. Occasionally he would suck on one of the nipples, but never stayed there for too long, quickly returning to the eager, chaotic exploration.