Hail, Hail, The Gang's All Here - [BJ]

Applause and whistles greeted Petty Officer Dawson when he returned to the center of the Temple. Smiling sheepishly, he exclaimed, "Guys! Y'all ain't gonna believe what goes on here."

"Yes, we will," Commander Smith chuckled, "That's why I sent you out here alone."

Besides the Captain, there was also the Second Officer, and the Boatswain. The First Officer was on watch whereas the Midshipman was nowhere to be seen. And instead of three Priestesses, there were now only two (including Ashley). One did not have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out where the Midshipman was.

"I take it that your first visit to the Temple of Demeter was satisfying?" the Doctor/High Priestess asked.

"And then some!" Dawson nodded happily. "Uh . . . When can I come back?"

"Whenever you like and as often as you like," the High Priestess answered. "Anytime a ship is in port, we keep the temple opened and staffed with Priestesses to accept offerings around the clock."

"Speaking of clock," Dawson remarked, "I'd better get back to the ship and get dinner started. But I'll be back afterwards."

"May the Goddess Demeter protect you until then," she replied.

Once Dawson had departed, Chief Petty Officer Wallace asked Priestess Ashley if she would receive his offering. The long-haired brunette lowered her eyes and nodded, and the two left for one of the private sanctuaries.

"Well, Captain," the High Priestess said to Commander Smith. "That only leaves Xiorra ," she gestured to the full-figured redhead sitting on a floor cushion at the table in front of Smith and Lieutenant Moonwatcher. Xiorra smiled up at the two men, her blue-eyes alert and twinkling as the High Priestess continued, "I am afraid one of you will have to wait until Anastasia returns."

"Not necessarily," Lieutenant Moonwatcher replied. "Do you . . . personally . . . still accept offerings?"

"I?" the High Priestess laughed, touching her chest with the tips of her fingers. She had the hands of an older woman. The aging process causes a person's skin to become thinner, so her veins were more visible. More protruding. "Young man, I am probably twice your age!"

"That's not what I asked you," Moonwatcher countered, his eyes boring into hers as he sat in almost a reclining position, one foot up on the cushion of the bench, his arms stretched out along the back of it.

Both Commander Smith and Priestess Xiorra looked from Moonwatcher to the High Priestess, back to Moonwatcher, and finally resting their gaze on the High Priestess. Wondering what her response would be. The tallish woman (she was about five-seven) stood in front of the circular pit with the fire burning brightly. The long, flowing white himation and ankle-length chiton making her look like a marble statue. She tilted her head to the side, her wide blue eyes with the thick false eyelashes narrowing, the crows-feet at the corners deepening, as she studied the younger man. The much younger man. Moonwatcher was twenty-eight and the High Priestess was sixty-five.

Gradually a smile spread across her face, her full lips curling upwards to reveal her perfect teeth. With her high cheek-bones, she looked almost like a chipmunk when she smiled like that. "Yes," she said at last. "I still accept offerings."

Moonwatcher left the bench and the High Priestess, without a glance at the other two people in the naos (main room of the temple), turned and strode to one of the doors to a private sanctuary. Before entering, she turned the brass emblem of shafts of wheat upside down to indicate the room was in use.

Once inside, the High Priestess took out a petri dish-like container with screw-on lid from the drawer of the end table, placing it there near the red and green buttons, and sat down on the couch. Moonwatcher started unbuttoning his tunic while looking at the painting over the couch. "A Greek Island on Earth?" he asked.

Looking up over her shoulder, she replied. "Yes. The Isle of Lesbos to be precise. You know, it is ironic how 'Lesbian' refers to love between two women, but originally λεσβιαζειν - "to imitate the Lesbians", that is, the women of that island - referred to fellatio."

"And that is the reason for the white lipstick?" Moonwatcher said, stepping out of his pants. "Last time I was here, the Priestess who accepted my offerings explained that prostitutes on Lesbos advertised their speciality that way. That the white lipstick was supposed to represent semen."

"That is precisely correct," the High Priestess replied while nodding her head, as if a student had given the right answer in class. She casually watched the young man undressing, studying his body in a clinical manner. There was no sexual arousal on her part, but this . . . specimen . . . was of superior stock. As he peeled off his last few items of clothing, she remarked, "I see that you like tattoos." Her eyes slowly ran up and down his form. "I guess that is a tradition with you shipboard types. Although you seem to have more than most."

"Oh, these," Moonwatcher replied, looking down at his ink-stained body. "It has more with being from Mars than being a Spacer. It is a tradition that goes back to when my home world was still a colony of Earth. Sort of a mark," he chuckled and corrected himself, "Or marks . . . of defiance."

The Martian went in to take a shower, the so-called 'purification', while the Lesbian sat on the couch listening to the sound of running water. Waiting patiently. Doctors have to have patience. (It's an old joke).

When Moonwatcher emerged a few minutes later, vigorously rubbing his head with a fluffy towel to dry his hair, the High Priestess was idly toying with the container. She placed it back on the top of the end-table and patted the cushion next to her, flashing the Worshipper a wide, toothy smile. "Come sit next to me," she told him, "And let's see if I still remember how to accept an offering."

It was only after he had taken a seat that she suddenly realized she was overdressed for the ritual. Her voluminous himation would be in the way and hinder her movements. Standing up, she removed the long, rectangular mantle, tossing back the rear fold to uncover her head and then undraping the cape from over her left shoulder. She placed the cloak that was a symbol of her position on top of Moonwatcher's neatly hanging uniform on the clothes valet. Somewhat mirroring Moonwatcher's earlier actions, she rubbed her head, fluffing up her straw-like, shoulder-length blonde hair.

Re-seating herself next to the Worshipper, she started to touch and examine his penis. The organ reacted immediately, swelling and rising as the High Priestess/Doctor's skillful fingers deftly manipulated it. "Hmmm," she muttered to herself, "Nice response to tactile stimulation. Symmetrical configuration. Suitable angle of inclination."

Then she giggled and looked up at him, the deep lines around her thick white lips framing her smile. "I'm sorry. I am sounding more like a Medical Doctor than a Priestess of Demeter." She curled the fingers of one hand around the nearly erect shaft, stroking it and coaxing it into a full-blown hard-on, while cupping his testicles with her other hand. "I was just saying that you have a nice, young cock. Very handsome," she tilted her head to the side, studying the boner she was handling. As she stroked it, she gave his scrotum a gentle squeeze. "You have a very handsome cock and I just bet your balls are loaded with sperm." She winked at him, "There, does that sound better?"

He laughed and returned her smile. Under normal circumstances, he would have kissed her, but he knew that despite the way she was so pleasurably hand-jobbing him, she was a dedicated Sapphist. She was doing this only to obtain his sperm. "It sounds perfect . . . Mmm? . . ." his brow furrowed, "What should I call you?"

"Cum-dumpster or cocksucker would be accurate," she replied, continuing to stroke him. She knew that some men, perhaps most or even all, were aroused by salacious talk. "But I guess in here you call me Erica. That's my name. But outside, I would ask that you refer to me more formally."

He replied, "That's a deal, Erica."

She released his cock, extended her arm behind him, shifted her body towards the edge of the couch, and leaned forward. Her hand that was cupping his balls slid up to grasp his shaft, pumping up and down on it. Opening her mouth wide, she lowered her head and engulfed just the glans of his penis. Sucking on it. Sucking hard. Her arm supported her weight as she hovered over his lap, her cheeks caved-in and her fist working his shaft.

Moonwatcher leaned his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes and moaning as Erica sucked him off. It was almost as if she was trying to use his dick like a straw and draw the sperm directly from his balls. The old expression 'suck a golf ball through a garden hose' crossed his mind.

From time to time she would lift her head to utter some words of encouragement to him. Words such as, "Mmmm, you are so nice and hard" or "I bet you have a full load to give me, don't you?" or "Mmmm, I know you want to cum in my mouth, right? Cum in my cocksucking mouth."

Each time she would do that, her fist would move up to concentrate on just the head of his dick, squeezing and rolling her clenched hand around the ball-like glans. Then she would lower her head once more, taking him back into her mouth and creating a vacuum around the tip of it while her hand slid and stroked, jerking the shaft, rubbing the balls.

Soon she felt his hands cradling the sides of her head, the men always do, so she ignored his balls to keep a grip around his shaft. The last thing she needed was for him to **** her head all the way down and drive his cock deep into her throat. It was not the gagging and inability to breathe that concerned her. Although there was that, too. But she feared having him ejaculate down her gullet. To shoot his seed directly into her stomach, thereby wasting it.

By now Moonwatcher was squirming around in his seat, grinding into the cushion and rotating his hips. "Oh, Erica," he gasped, "I'm about ready to unload, Baby."

She was thirty-seven years older than him, and he was calling her 'Baby'. Oh, well, never underestimate the power of a well-executed knobber.

Erica shifted her own position somewhat, moving in closer to him, bowing her back more as she worked her fist faster and faster up and down his cock. "Hmmm, mmm," she mumbled around the cock in her mouth while nodding her head. "Hmmm, mmm . . . Hmmm, mmm."

"awwwWWW FUCK!" he screamed, clasping her blonde head tightly and thrusting his hips upwards. She immediately moved her fist up against her lips, limiting how far down he could penetrate her mouth as she felt the hot jets of man-cream splashing against her palate and the insides of her cheeks. She gave his throbbing, pulsating shaft quick, short jerks, helping him empty his balls as her cheeks swelled outwards. Getting fuller and rounder as the young man filled her mouth with cum.

When he had finally stopped ejaculating and had collapsed back into the cushions, Erica quickly lifted her head, spun around to face the end table, and grabbed the waiting plastic container. She spat out that watery mixture of her saliva and his spunk into it. Looking at the thick, whitish part of the mix that was semen, she spat again. And again.

"Wow," she cooed while pressing the green button. "That was a healthy offering. The Goddess Demeter will be pleased." Daintily touching the tip of her middle finger to her tongue, she remarked, "Hmph! I had about forgotten what the male seed tastes like." She smacked her lips a couple of times. "Saltier than I remembered."

A young woman, dressed in a light-brown chitoniskos and carrying a silver tray, came in through the door opposite the one Erica and Moonwatcher had entered. The new arrival suddenly stopped, blinked her eyes several times, then proceeded to the High Priestess.

Erica placed the closed offering container onto the tray and once the acolyte had left, the High Priestess burst out into laughter. "I don't think poor Isliza was expecting to see me in here."

Leaving the couch for the clothes-valet, Erica wrapped the himation around her form, re-donning the symbol of her position. She looked over at Moonwatcher sitting limply on the couch, both his cock and entire body limp, and said, "I hope I was not too disappointing for you."

"Oh, no, Your Eminence," he protested, "If thou deems me worthy, I would love to make future offerings to The Goddess of the Seed and Fertility through thee."

Flipping the back fold of her himation over her head, fully completing her transformation to High Priestess, she closed her heavily made-up eyes and slowly nodded her head. Re-opening her eyes, she also opened her mouth. Wide. And stared at Moonwatcher for a couple of seconds before answering, "I will be happy to receive."