An Orgy at Ismenia

My licentious lover—

I regret that you will receive this story weeks after it has taken place, at best, and I further lament your absence at one of the most spectacular examples of debauchery yet.

Upon reaching a tavern on the outskirts of Thebes, colloquially called Ismenia, I committed to my duty of searching for salacious stories for my employer. The tavern owner and the resident coterie of drinkers were only too generous with their local legends. Of which I am eternally thankful and currently so over-sexed, that I am uncertain whether I could even contribute to proffering future heirs.

The tale began with a cuckold from Sparta, Kadmos, a man of great strength and talent. Long ago, he slew a dragon at the Ismenian spring and incurred the wrath of Aries. As a result, he and his wife were changed into serpents for seven years. During their time in cursed form, they produced offspring who were neither fully dragon nor human and live in the hills today.

These creatures shift form. While usually serpentine, they become human once a month, at Hekate’s Deipnon, the end of the lunar month. And they are often eager to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. It is not uncommon for these cursed noblemen and women to lure travelers and the most ruttish residents to their hillside abode for a night of unending ecstasy. In fact, there have been cases of prior to the night, with these dragons making off with maidens and young men throughout the month and keeping them until the bacchanalia is complete.

You can imagine my arousal.

To my luck, I had arrived just a day before the big event. And so, on the eve of Hekate’s Deipnon, while the more prudish villagers prayed and set eggs at the crossroads, I left with a partner from the tavern — a burly, experienced trader who frequents the festivities regularly — and quickly made it to the hillside.

Nestled in a shallow valley stood a spring littered with dilapidated columns. A ruined temple, perhaps, from when Kadmos killed the original dragon. The slabs of marble, still painted in bright reds, yellows, and blues, albeit more subdued from the relentless sun, were littered with trembling bodies, some draped with bright linen and silk. Small bonfires and oil lamps complemented the waning light from the sinking sun, the orange flames reflecting off the scales of dragons not yet transformed.

There were three of them. These Ismenian dragons, wingless and serpent-like, coiled around the revelers' bodies, constricting lightly as the participants clung to each other, hands grasping at the snake scales, and moans vibrating in the air.

I was breathless. But the trader with me, Aeson, seemed unfazed.

“You’ll see,” he said. “We should have arrived earlier. But when darkness falls, they will become almost human.”

I asked him what he meant by almost—but I soon discovered it myself. Before my vary eyes, the sinuous, slithering beasts disentangled from the crowd to reveal three figures, all of them still deific in stature. There were two men and one woman among them, statuesque and robots among us mortals, and their skin glinted in the firelight as if still covered with scales. They sported tails, which I later found were used quite delightfully to arouse, provoke, and seize their willing partners.

I could not stand to simply watch. It is a poor observer who does not partake, as you would understand.

Therefore, with Aeson ventured forth, I followed. But, I admit, I lost him quickly in the web of limbs.

I found myself the captive of two women of married age, their thick curls already matted from sweat. I played with one’s hair, still partially braided, but her honey-brown eyes were focused entirely on my form, her nimble fingers removing my light, linen tunic and pushing me towards a slab of stone. The other placed her hand upon my cheek and tilted my face towards hers, her mouth on mine in mere moments. Her reddened lips tasted of sweet wine, and I allowed her access to whatever she wished, her tongue sweeping across my lower lip.

The other woman had shifted towards my hardening shaft. She took me into her soft palm, licking the tip lightly, teasingly. I groaned.

The two worked my body with their hands and mouths. It took everything not to spread my seed there, as I had been pent up for the last week without a consort.

At the same time, I kept my eyes open as they took turns sucking my cock (of which they were unreasonably skilled), so as not to miss the other exciting acts around me.

I could see one of the male dragon-shifters looming in the distance. He had a young maiden, naked and pale in the faint firelight, bent over a snapped thin log, her breasts bouncing off the wood as he slammed into her from behind. His tail was curled around her stomach before bending back towards her plump ass, and I could see, just barely, the tip disappearing between them—perhaps generating her ass as he filled her quivering cunt. I’m sure the woman would be screaming had not another man, fully human and certainly no youngster, kept her mouth occupied with his own member. An older woman than the first kept a firm grip on the enraptured girl’s hair, ensuring she kept pace with the older man’s thrust.

My jaw went slack at a particularly sensuous suck, the tip of my cock almost gagging the girl before me. And I realized, at that point, two had become three—with a blond joining the duo and a balding man behind her.

This would not do, for I like some control initially. And so, I motioned to one of the brunettes, one with a slight mole on her refined nose and voluptuous breasts, and had her sit on my cock. I gave a brief glance to the bald fellow, who seemed to have no problem understanding my intent, and he positioned himself behind this young brunette, but not before licking her asshole and having the blond lubricate her for good measure.

My new partner slid into the little minx slowly, causing her to squirm and moan. I held her still as the other girls attended to their friend, kissing her full lips and nipping at her breasts. The other brunette leaned down to spit and lick at her pussy as I thrust forward.

The poor thing jostled between the four of us, completely overwhelmed, cumming ceaselessly over my cock.

The night went on this way, partners vanishing only to reappear again later. It was a marvelous, pliable parade of delights. Each unknown lover, young or old, supple, and skin slick with sudor and saliva and savory juices. It was one of those rare instances, in which I could not even count how many times I released my seed—something you know to be unusual.

Even that sultry, serpent-woman trembled sweetly below me, her moans muffled from another man’s cock ramming down her throat, as her tail wisped from person to person—myself, the other gentleman, and a young maiden suckling and pinching at her red nipples. I spilled in her like I did many a maiden there (and a few handsome men, I must say).

At the first sign of dawn, those magnificent, seemingly sex-starved creatures shivered and shuddered until they were once again dragons. They slithered through the grass and abandoned temple towards a dark cavern and disappeared, a few of the participants following them. Otherwise, one by one, individuals bathed in the spring, dressed, and dispersed, with most gone by blazing hot noon.

But I sat there, by the spring, with Aeson, my original companion. The two of us lazed there for a while, regaining our strength, before heading back to the tavern at dusk, the drunks there curious for my take on the extravaganza.

And, as you know me, I told them in lavish detail. I noticed, during the story, a pale face peering in from the kitchen, no doubt the owner’s daughter. A sweet little brunette thing with a mole on her nose. When she caught my gaze, her cheeks reddened, and she looked away.

Of course, lucky for her, I was still spent for the evening. But if we ever visit the little rural settlement outside of Thebes, you and I have no doubt numerous willing partners for our own little bacchanalia.

Thinking of you,
Your lover,
Priapos