The Stone that Grew a Man Ch. 02

Melanie could not believe the pleasure, the sheer electric ecstasy of her orgasm or rather orgasms. A man, naked against her bottom, a man's hard penis within her. A rippling tide of peaks with not much troughs. The shear pressing desire for sex. She did not hear her wetness pattering on the floor but she was sure she was literally dripping. What she did hear was the clattering, bouncing sound as of marbles hitting the floorboards as she felt the stone penis withdrawing. A loud sound in the stillness of the night. She had felt it coming inside her, though how a stone penis could come was quite beyond her: yet, she knew, the sound was of drops of marble semen falling from her vagina to the floor.

Melanie opened her eyes in time to see just the faintest phosphorescent image of a young man behind her reflected in the window glass. White as marble, as beautiful as a man could be, smiling and with, of all things, wings. Supernatural yes but nothing suggested evil about what she saw. Appearances can be deceptive but Melanie's impression was one of love... and of desire, the young man was beautifully, and it was the word in her mind, erect.

She turned but there was no one there at all but the stone lay upon her bed, wet and perfect. She had not placed it there. Upon the floor, around her feet, pellets of marble, so like frozen drops of liquid. Melanie wrapped the stone and hid it. She gathered the drops of marble and dropped them one by one, there were many of them, into the jar before falling into a deep sleep

It came as something of a shock. Melanie had been happy enough, the next day being so cold and rainy, to go to a museum with her aunt. A surprisingly large museum in a grand old civic building in the town with an unexpectedly large and authentic collection of Greek antiquities, bequeathed years and years before by a local collector. It was whilst she had stood before a marble statue, not one of a half clothed Greek woman but of a completely naked young man - rather strangely with wings - that it had come to her.

There was more than one statue in the museum that had been mutilated and certainly many that had been restored having lain in pieces upon or under the ground for centuries. The striking off of little manly appendages seemed to have been the hobby of some people centuries ago. Melanie had actually been less than impressed by those that remained. Remarkably small penises seemed to adorn those which were intact. They did not impress a young girl interested in virile young men.

The winged statue had clearly been damaged by the striking off of his organ but the shape of the 'wound' seemed familiar. The more she looked at it the more she thought it matched that of the stone she had so carefully wrapped and hidden at home, a stone she was so intimately familiar with and knew so well. At first the 'wound' to the stone had simply been rounded and shapeless from the sea but as the days had passed had become much more distinct as the penis itself had become so much more detailed.

Melanie returned more than once to the statue. She was as sure as could be that her stone belonged to... to... her eyes sought and read the explanation: Himeros, one of the Erotes (plural of Eros), winged Greek god of sexual desire.

The description did not exactly surprise her - sexual desire was all she had felt since finding the stone. But why had her stone metamorphosed into, seemingly, the statue's missing penis? Was it actually the statue's penis somehow lost at sea? How had it come to be in the sea?

It was a wrench. A difficult thing for Melanie to decide to do. She knew she should not keep the stone: knew she must not keep the stone. It was having too strong an effect upon her. It was dictating her actions again and again. To take it back home from her aunt's risked discovery. Her parents' house was not the rambling size of her aunt's. Perhaps she could have left it there at her aunt's for another visit, even buried it secretly in the garden but would it have let her? She might so easily arrive home and found, rather than leaving it buried, she had wrapped it carefully and placed it in her suitcase. The beautiful stone dildo... no, piece from a statue, lying there wanting to be used. She was not sure the stone dildo would let itself be left behind and buried.

It was the next night that made her decision. It was not she who sought out the stone but the stone that sought her. Bathed and in her nightdress, with just moonlight flooding through her casement window to see by, she suddenly felt she was not alone in the bedroom. In the darkness advancing upon her the clear semblance of a young man, winged and beautiful. Not the mere phosphorescent outline of before but a clearer shape. It was not simply the penis, though that was there, upstanding, white and solid, but the whole man, shining with phosphorescent light, that brought her desire to almost fever pitch. Never had her arousal come so fast. One moment at rest, the next she was dripping, her knees buckling and she was on her knees before the advancing apparition.

Was Melanie dreaming, was Melanie hallucinating or was the vision real? It was certainly real enough to Melanie. The advancing young man with his, at eye level, sexual organ. It swayed slightly as he advanced and the testes swung in their sack as if no longer marble but flesh. Closer and closer it came until the head of the penis was an inch or so from her mouth.

Melanie's lips parted and her mouth opened wide.

The young man before her so clearly the semblance of the statue but with the penis.

Her eyes closed and she leant forward feeling the knob of the penis slide between her lips. No longer did it feel like stone but flesh, warm and soft yet with a rigidity within. Melanie sucked, enjoying the feel and then began to slide her mouth back and forth just as if her mouth was her vagina engaged in coitus. It was lovely, the intimate feeling, the so close involvement with the male organ, so filling and so strong in her mouth. Was perhaps her friend, Penny, sucking upon the penis of some brown skinned holiday boyfriend, doing it for real, holding his cock and sucking it, its big rounded head in her mouth? A real cock rather than one she had found in the sea: but, to Melanie, the cock in her mouth felt anything but unreal. She did not open her eyes, did not want to spoil what might just be imagination yet, when she reached, she felt hanging balls. Not hard stone marbles but warm flesh, mobile at her fingertips.

She felt and grasped firm male buttocks, holding them as she moved the penis in her mouth to and fro, 'fucking her face' in her own words. And then it happened.

For the first time in young Melanie's life she felt the spurting of a man within her mouth. Not a simple stream but the rhythmic pulsing of men. Hot pulsing semen filling her mouth. It was that special thing men did and it made Melanie's body tingle with desire. An ejaculating cock!

The flow ended as it must and Melanie drew herself backwards to sit on her heels. Her mouth was full of semen. Should she swallow as she and Penny had talked about so naughtily together? But already she could feel the gelatinous, salty fluid hardening, she leant forward, and when she opened her eyes she watched, falling from her opening mouth into the upraised palm of her hand, tear shapes of marble dropping one by one to fill her hand.

Melanie looked up. The apparition had not faded into the night, her stone dildo was not lying on her bed waiting her, but there before her, shining with phosphorescence was the young winged man, so beautiful and so erect. Not for Himeros the drooping of a man after coitus or ejaculation: rather a god of sexual desire with his ever ready staff. His lovely ever present erection, there for her. She rose and went to her bed and lay upon the sheets with arms spread and thighs open. She offered herself to the statue and the young man moved forward with wings fluttering and penis extended.

Her offering was accepted.

Melanie sat up in bed and blinked at the strong sunlight pouring through her open casement. She had not drawn the curtains the night before. She shuddered at the memory. What ecstatic sex, what pleasure but what was happening to her? This was not at all the holiday romance she imagined Penny to be enjoying. This was something quite different. It could not go on.

She got up on her knees and spread them a little and felt drops of marble pitter pattering from her sex to the sheets. It was late already, she had overslept but the sex had gone on and on. How many times had she come? How many times had she felt the penis surge inside her? The marble drops were plentiful. The memory of the winged youth upon her - in so many ways - was sweet.

One more day before she returned home from her aunt's. One day to become free - was that how she saw it? One day to be free of the stone.