Washing the Goddesses Hair

"It seems Priestess that you spend your life washing the hair and the cares away from others, but who washes your own hair?"

She stopped, stunned and transfixed, and then she began to laugh and then to my surprise she slowly knelt before me with her head slightly bowed. Somehow, in seconds I was undressed and was standing before her slowly pouring a pitcher of water over her head and then I gently applied a little of her herbal lotion from the other jug. Slowly I began to shampoo the Priestesses hair, and it seemed as if all time was now standing still for us. Still kneeling when I was done, she first kissed the head of my cock (which I admit was now as rock hard and engorged as it had ever been in its life), then the sides of my shaft and then both of my testicles. As she started to arise she kissed and gave each part of me a little blessing to each part of my body, and then holding hands we stepped together into the waterfall and began a lip kiss that I will never forget until the end of my days.

It was nothing like any kiss I had ever felt before, it tingled from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It was absolutely electric. Gasping for breath with water streaming everywhere all over us, I began to kiss the Priestess nipples, take each one in turn into my mouth and suckling them, my hands searching for and finding her clit and entryway into her cunt. We kissed again, and I felt myself pushing her back against the wet stone and in a sudden motion she threw her arms around my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist, she mounted me standing, impaling my cock into her unbelievably tight and wet cunt. Standing in place, under the waterfall seemly endlessly locked in bliss, at last I released my sperm into her questing womb, and still mounted tightly together we slid into the warm waters to join Beth, who now seemed much revived.

My cock still seeming locked in place inside the Priestesses cunt, we shared a happy three-way kiss that seeming lasted for hours, but was probably only a just a few minutes. We wordlessly moved to the shallow end of the pond where the water came to about the women's mid thighs, and we stood and had another group kiss and caress, leaving no lips, breasts, cunts or my cock neglected for longer than a moment. The Priestess smiled at Beth, and gave her an especially deep probing kiss and then parted her vaginal lips with her fingers to reveal my leaking semen load. Beth sunk to her knees before her, and after first kissing each nipple and the Priestesses full bushy pubic mound, sunk her tongue deep into her the cum filled cunt and licked and sucked out every drop.

The women then began an especially long and erotic kissing and caressing session that I was loathe to interrupt, and watched as they emerged from the pond and fell into a passionate 69 embrace that I'm certain did last for at least an hour. At length the Priestess left the clutches of our shared lover, and she beckoned for me to come close. I was still rock hard but the Priestess took me deeply into her mouth for a few minutes until my rock felt like it was at least 10 inches long, and every bit of coated with her saliva and the cunt juices from my beloved. When I felt that I was about to burst, she withdrew my cock from the happiest home it had ever known, and holding it gently in her hand, placed me inside Beth's parted and soaking wet vaginal lips. As the Priestess held our hands and kissed both of our bodies, Beth and I became enjoined true lovers at long last. Her emotional pain was all gone and we cried tears of happiness and love. I never seemed to become flaccid and we copulated repeatedly, the three of us, over and over again, with each of the women's orifices receiving my seemingly endless cum loads. At some point, still mounted inside Beth, the two of us fell into a near exhausted doze, snug within the love of each others soft arms. When we recovered enough to stand up and look around at about sunrise, to thank the Priestess one last time, we found she had already left us. We were alone. She had never spoken a single word to either of us, but we would have liked to have at least known her name.

Neither of us still felt much like talking, and we breakfasted on picnic leftovers in silence in the growing light and the loud morning calls of the songbirds. We then slowly dressed and packed up our picnic supplies and left. The Priestess had taken the two pitchers with her when she left.

After carefully relocking the gate, we drove back to the hotel and got there still in time for a second breakfast (we were both still hungry) and we went up our room and took a nap together until after lunch, and enjoyed a gentle leisurely first lovemaking in our own bed. The Goddess had indeed washed Elizabeth's hair and her fears, doubts and inner demons were exorcised forever, and we vowed that afternoon in bed together that we would never be willing apart ever again!

There was zero jealousy over our three-way love making of the night before. Absolutely none. I would not begrudge her an occasional female bed partner, especially if we could share (wink). We somehow knew without any doubt that any temporary lovers the other might take merely involved just "sex", and not true love. Our LOVE was abiding and eternal within our hearts. May it remain so forever..

The next day we hurried back to the home of the couple who owned the land and the hill the Temple was on and returned the key. Daughter? She lived on another island with her husband and their Grand-Daughter was a child of 14. When told of the "Priestess" she closed her mouth shut and would tell us no more, but kissed each of us a hearty goodbye.

We made our final goodbye to our "Family" and friends and caught the boat together to Rhodes. That summer, Beth took a long vacation from work and joined me for my cruise duties, and once again (this time for forever) I was married to the woman I loved by the Ship's Captain. She joined me every night in the piano lounge and together we wrote what must have been at least 8 more songs by the end of that season alone. Traveling to her home in London, she made arrangements to work part-time as an assistant editor a few months of the year with both the London office and the US West Coast office, thus able to spend about 7 months of the year with me in the Aegean either on the our cruises or vacationing on the island.

While Beth caught up on her work in London and was getting familiarized with her new duties, I rented some insanely expensive recording studio time at Abbey Road and started to record my first solo album ever. It was hard work and I called in every IOU I could recall from the rich and famous and not so rich and famous folks I had worked for so often in the 60's and 70's. Several volunteered to play backup on each track for me, with my piano being the main instrument and someone luckily found the perfect young Jazz vocalist whose voice reminded me more than a little of Edna's, and as we started to record in earnest, it became obvious that we had captured lightning in a bottle, and the word started to get out. We started to get daily visits from "A" list artists that one normally prefixed by adding either "the Legendary" or "Sir" before their names. Sometimes both. By the end of the sessions everyone knew I had created something "unique and special" and I accepted a worldwide distribution contract for my recording that offered slightly less of an advance than some other record companies had offered, but promised a much higher royalty and allowed me to retain all my rights. Allegedly, one of the "Sirs" had ordered the label to "get this record at all costs and at any expense, and that "it would be worth every penny of it."

Steep praise indeed, but I now had other thoughts on my mind; Beth had discovered a month into our summer cruise that she was pregnant. This was not great surprise to us as she had never been on birth control, and nine months to the day after "The Goddess Washed Her Hair", our first daughter Millicent Adelphe (after her mother and Auntie) entered our lives. When my CD "Washed by the Waters" was released two days later it was anticlimactic, and more of a relief to us than anything else. It was now time to head back to Greece, and rest nude on the beach at Uncle's; with our newborn daughter at her breast (definitely a size larger than they once were) we missed entirely the splash the record made on the charts.

With a decent advertising campaign and viral like word of mouth recommendations from every corner, a very un-pop music piano recording from a almost completely unheard of artist moved slowly up steadily up the Album Sales charts each week, peaking at #6 before leveling for it's eventual decline. But it declined slowly, seemingly losing only a position or two each week until resting finally near the bottom next to "Dark Side of the Moon" where we remained near constant companions mostly ever since, rarely ever dropping from the top 100, and even then only briefly. Music critics began calling the last song of the CD "The Goddess Washes Her Hair" as one of the single most important songs of the 20th century, many calling it the single greatest song of "Hope and Redemption" that they had ever heard. I can only take half of the credit, and the night that I got called up onto the stage to accept the first of the three Grammy's our recording would earn, I dragged Beth up on stage with me protesting, and wobbling from being 6 months pregnant with our next child, a son, Albert Hilarion (after my father and Uncle).

When we eventually got tired of all of the nagging phone calls from new friends and old (and numerous record company exec's) asking "when's the next record coming out?" we got off our now rich, lazy butts and spent the next summer cruise tour after Albert's birth polishing up the best dozen songs we had written into something even vaguely recordable. I was definitely "A-list" now, and my longtime Cruise Line employers worked out a new contract where I now could work much, much less often, but made much, much more than ever before, eventually doing only 8 one-week cruises a year at an outrageous talent fee, they willingly paid and we cheerfully accepted. We both wanted to spend more time with our growing toddlers, and with a fresh one now being in the oven, and likely to be our last (Beth was nearing 40), we made our final decision concerning our new "permanent home". We were moving back to the island for good, it was now in a great many ways our only "real home".

We took a last trip to my Bay Area residence, gave away or sold as much of its accumulated junk as I could bear to part with, and loving packed my 78 and vintage hand-crank phonograph collections for a long trip. We put the house on the market for an outrageous starting sum and we received multiple offers within days, and I eventually ended up finally getting over 35% more than my original asking price. I borrowed the Dead's recording studio in San Rafael (close to my beach home) and gathered a few old- time "Dinosaurs" and we hammered out my second record the best we could. It was not quite lightning in a bottle, but there were a couple of songs (particularly the title song "Warmed by the Light of the Sun") that I was especially pleased with. We experimented with different takes and different lead singers on it but it wasn't ever quite "right", until after one late-night take where we had been tried some synth arrangements with Beth huskily half-singing half whispering the words, it all came together for us. It wasn't quite "perfect", but it would do and we never had any regrets. It sold well anyway, but didn't have the legs of "Washed" and did eventually drop into the 2nd 100 to stay, but never going out of "availability".

Where "Washed by the Waters" was about pain, despair, hope and redemption, "Warmed by the Light of the Sun" was purely about unbridled and unapologetic joy and the happiness of life. Critics didn't quite swoon over it, but said many kind things about it anyway. We didn't win Best Album or Best Song for "Warmed" but we enjoyed our last trip to any awards show having all the fun we could stand, and spent a very memorable evening afterwards with a very famous, beautiful and bisexual female singer-songwriter that nearly everyone would know.

Returning to London, Beth packed up her even sparser flat (giving most of her stuff away to friends and old co-workers) and due to the insaneness of Chelsea real estate, sold it nearly overnight also. Our last bridges to our pasts were now dismantled. I held on to my song rights catalog, we didn't need the money, nor would be probably ever, but the timing just didn't seem "right". We packed our suitcases one last time and flew "home".

In our absence, Uncle had tendered our purchase offer for the Temple hill, and surrounding vineyards and olive groves (all in all about 15% of the islands land). He received a written counter-offer asking for only half as much cash. "They were old", Uncle said to us later handing us the gate key to the property - the only lock on any building anywhere on the property, and wanted the "Hill" to go to someone who would cherish it and protect it forever. An envelope a long letter addressed to Beth and filled with old 19th and early 20th century photographs was found on top of a table next to the front door, and to this very day I have never been permitted so much as glimpse of either the letter or the photos. Even now, all I know is that the property had been in that woman's family along the maternal line for a very long time, and that it had been the historical duty of the women of her family to long tend to the Temple. Quite apparently the torch so to speak had been passed on to Beth.

We were all agreed on the Temples urgent need for preservation and restoration, and we started an ambitious plan for the sites restoration, which would be a slow and painstaking process; even with the extremely large amount of money we were willing to invest into the project. We started by building a large two story villa on the grounds of the mostly flat meadow area at the base of the hill near the roadway, and considered it the best money we ever spent in our lives. It was open, roomy and spacious, well suited for entertaining, with a room allotted for each child and several guest bedrooms and an office area for each of us in addition. The house was completed just in time for Beth to give natural birth (with a midwife) to our last daughter Aphrodisia Efrosyni (more or less "Aphrodite's Joy") and from nearly her first words she was an unusual and "fey" child and while we loved all of our children equally, "Joy" seemed to occupy a special place in our hearts as she grew up into a delightful child who was seemingly never very naughty and rarely ever cried, even with a minor hurt.

We got to know all of our neighbors and our employees that worked our fields, vineyards and olive groves all on a first name basis. The previous elderly owners had paid well, rarely cutting corners and sought only a small profit from the their lands, and we happily continued all of their wise policies and soon had the complete trust of our foremen and found that while we actually had few if any real duties as the resident lord and lady of the manor, as it were, we enjoyed learning everything about the daily tasks that kept our land well cared for and nurtured, and it was a became a rare day that we didn't "get our hands dirty" and helped with at least some of the work.

We didn't neglect our old village friends one bit either, and friends were constantly in and out of our house, which being rather large, comfortable and hospitable, often now became the new central meeting place for discussions between the leading citizens of the two villages of our island. Within a few years, it seemed like we had become the real "Mayors" of the island, and men and women both would often seek our advice on matters both great and small. The most delicate matter of all, being the Temple of Aphrodite on our hill. Beth became increasing involved in meeting with most of the head women of the island in her plans concerning this. This matter was VERY definitely "women's business" and none of my (or any other man's) affair. Even Uncle could tell me nothing of what transpired on afternoons when the "church ladies", as I called them jokingly had left, or the occasional evenings that an increasing number of women climbed the hill together to the Temple Pond... returning hours later with wet bodies and hair (and dry clothes). Once when I remarked casually one evening to little Joy that I was wondering where her mother had gonen off to, she replied in her strange little way "She's serving the Goddess right now, but she'll be home soon" and scampered off of my lap to play with one of her toys.

As we became increasingly close with the islanders, our sex life, which has started to settle down a very slight bit into a comfort zone after the move, seemed to explode. Our house seemed to be constantly full of visiting young women desiring a proper Sapphic education from my darling wife, but mostly not minding at all if my now 50 year old body occasionally joined the fun. Birth control was an immediate problem and while we had condoms, we didn't seem to ever have enough (I started to buy them by the case from Athens), but things generally transpired that most of the young ladies preferred to stay off the pill and save their cunts for fucking only by their steady boyfriends, but willingly offering their mouths and tight asses for my inspection. While permissive casual sex was common and of no concern to anyone, most parents did prefer the father's of their new grandchildren to be single and marriageable.

There was a complicated "Hair Code" that I never entirely figured that had dozens of possible meanings; 18 and over wearing loose unrestrained hair = "ok" looking for fun; other codes specified "looking for a specific lover" man/woman, discrete or not, anal ok or not, oral ok but everything else not, etc. The strangest was when I saw an elaborate hairstyle that seemed to feature two upraised horns with a bun in the center. Beth giggling non-stop for the next hour, eventually taking pity on me she told me that this was the signal that her husband was infertile but they wished for a "sperm donor" to father their child! Fortunately we never had any accidents and I never fathered any additional children (that I'm aware of).

More time passed and it seemed as if the "Church Ladies" were definitely up to something. The ladies held weekly meetings now, often at the Temple site that was slowly but surely being restored. Something definitely seemed to be in the works that none of the men seemed to know anything about, and all of the women seemed to involved with up it to their eye teeth, and seemed unusually smug and secretive.

At long last, I the Lord of the Land, was deemed acceptable to be informed that we would be soon hosting a party for most of the 700 or so islanders (and probably up to another 100 or so "friends and tourists". Fuck me very much. Plans for the food were already established (more "women's work"), so I was left with the dull parts about obtaining tents and blankets and getting them setup on the meadow lawns and onto our beach front, and ordering a vast amount of various liquid refreshments for the party. I was also given the task of obtaining an improbable amount of firewood and seeing that it was delivered to the top of the hill and placed inside the great stone Neolithic circle. I muttered dark oaths, and promised vigorous spankings to my lovely wife's bottom if she didn't start to spill some beans. None of which gained me any further enlightenment as to what was to be in store, but engendered a few promises that I was delighted to fulfill - Beth always loved any and all attentions to her perfect ass.