Medusa's Folly

Medusa's Folly
Alison Paige

She'd lived for centuries without the pleasure a man could give her. For Medusa was a goddess with a heart full of vengeance. And even a man's briefest glance transformed her into a hideous, snake-haired monster who turned men to stone. But she was filled with an insatiable lust that compelled her to mount the stone erection of a lasciviously posed gargoyle atop an ancient castle. Then something remarkable happened. . . the gargoyle came to life. And even more remarkable, rather than turning back to stone at the first glimpse of her, he fell in love at first sight.Uphir was a demon who, in human form, had stolen the hearts of countless women, until Athena cursed him into his stony existence. But Medusa was not so easily vanquished. It would take all his seductive power and sexual prowess to win this wrathful goddess's heart.

Medusa’s Folly

Chapter One

Medusa lowered herself onto the stone-hard cock, slow and easy as the smooth granite split her pussy, pressed cold and solid inside her.

In all her centuries she’d never seen a gargoyle positioned quite like this one, mounted to the corner of the castle wall, leaning over the city below. Its legs bent at the knees, muscled arms back, thick, clawed fingers and toes gripping the wall, erect penis pointing straight from its body. In fact, it was rare to find them with penises at all.

And this time she hadn’t questioned her good fortune, racing from the dark Paris streets below to the barred rooftop of the ancient castle. Her pussy was already creaming her thighs as she climbed the long spiraling steps, anticipation heating though her body.

It wasn’t easy getting to the thick-muscled creature. Never mind the metal gates humans erected to keep mortals from exploring the top floors of the castle—laughable. The hard part was climbing over the edge between the battlements, and scaling down to where the gargoyle clung at the corner.

Though it leaned at an angle from the building, the gargoyle’s stone lap made a solid ledge beneath her ass, her feet wedged between its calves and the building to give her leverage. The gargoyle’s cock was a tight fit, the stone unforgiving inside her. The artist had no doubt compensated for his own shortcomings by enhancing his creation’s endowments. Men. Her sex muscles twitched and squeezed in protest.

A moment’s pause and her body adjusted, fresh juice washing through her, creaming over the stone to slick the way. She pushed, her arms holding around his hard neck, lifting herself. The thick cock slid from between her legs, rippling sensation in tiny, delicious jolts through the walls of her pussy.

The smooth, round head of its cock held her open. She stilled, teasing her needy body, her sex muscles clenching for more. Medusa flicked her gaze down her body to the hard shaft poised between her legs. The gargoyle’s rippled stomach glistened with her spilled cream; the stone was darker where her juice had stained it.

By inches she lowered herself again, driving the granite cock inside her, impaling her body. A hundred million little tingles vibrated through her nerves as it went, squeezing through her chest, tightening muscles, stretching and filling her so she could scarcely breathe.

Her ass settled on its cold lap again, its cock filling her so deeply a sweet mix of pain and pleasure tingled at the feel of it pushing against her cervix. Medusa took a heated moment to admire the artistry of its body, her sex squeezing and flexing around the stone.

Muscles ripped over the gargoyle’s arms and legs, defined its chest and thickened its neck. Its face was squarish, with a wide nose and cat-shaped eyes. Its mouth gaped open in a joker’s grin, flashing long canines and a devilishly pointed tongue. Its ears were pointed as well, but not so much as others she’d seen, and the wings molding along the wall behind it were large and batlike.

She was fucking a stone-cold monster, but she knew of little else fit for the task. It’s not easy fucking without catching your lover’s eye, and that, for a male inside Medusa, was fatal. Not that she cared.

In her experience most men deserved the punishment of her gaze. How many had she turned to stone statues over the years? They deserved it. All of them.

Medusa banished the thoughts, and with them, the anger prickling up the back of her neck. This was not the time for revenge, for hatred. This was the time for lust and sex and sweet satiation.

Though, she thought, it would be nice to feel the warm give of male flesh inside her, the firm press of lips against hers, the spicy sweep of a tongue inside her mouth. Medusa pulled close and teased her tongue against the frozen grin of the gargoyle. She traced around the upturned corner of its lips, then down to its teeth, feeling the sharp points of its canines. She drew back, the gritty mix of dirt flooding through her mouth.

Bitter disappointment and the sour taste of loneliness coated the back of her tongue. Medusa gulped it all down, shifted her thoughts once again. She arched her back and lifted her body, brushing her excited, hard nipples against a cold granite chest.

A luscious chill raced through her breasts, sent a shiver quaking all the way down to her pussy. Her sex muscles flexed, squeezing tight around the stone cock sliding through her body. She wiggled when she reached the end, stroking her sensitive folds along the smooth head, teasing her clit with chilly touches of stone.

Medusa rocked her hips, bringing her ass in line with the slippery tip of the gargoyle’s cock. She rocked back and then again, spreading her juice, wetting her tight opening. With one hand still hooked around its neck, she dropped the other to her sex.

She fondled her fingers over the swollen nub of her clit, making her breath catch as she pushed her fingers deep into the drenching heat of her pussy. Her muscles clenched around her. A building sensation coiled in her belly, tightening her muscles, squeezing through her chest.

The gargoyle’s cock pressed at her anus and Medusa pressed back. Her ass clenched, both wanting and resisting the cold invasion. The promise of wicked pleasure was there. She could feel it wetting the channel of her ass, slicking her pussy, tightening the muscles of her groin. But she’d never managed to push through the sharp press of pain, the instinctive resistance.

She tried, settling her body over the hard cock, leaning back, angling her body with no concern for the precarious perch she held on the side of the castle. The fat head stretched the puckered muscles of her ass, broke through the outer rim and Medusa gasped, frozen by the quick stab of pain. She couldn’t do it, not on her own, no matter how exquisite it might feel.

A shift of weight, a push of her legs and Medusa dislodged the cock from her body. Aftershocks rippled through her bottom, clenching and relaxing muscles, the pain slowly easing to nothingness.

Pleasuring herself with the rarely found stone cocks, or with less firm toys she could purchase, over the centuries had its fine points. Namely, the inexhaustible hardness. But it could also be frustratingly limiting in the way of variety.

A stone carving couldn’t hold her, couldn’t kiss her, couldn’t press its mouth to her pussy, tease and wet her ass, coax her to relax enough to drive deep into every wanting orifice of her body. A statue couldn’t speak to her, couldn’t flatter her with adoration of her beauty, of her thick auburn hair, her jade-green eyes, her ample breasts and slender waist. A man carved in stone couldn’t love her…and he couldn’t betray her either.

The last was all that mattered. Medusa refocused her thoughts, banishing once and for all the melancholy nonsense of her heart. The only good man was a man of stone, hard to find and good to find hard.

She rocked her hips, slid her pussy along the slick head of its cock, centering herself. Her toes curled as the hard shaft pressed inside her, smoothing between the tight clench of her walls, zinging sensation to every corner of her body.

The chilly hilt of its sex touched her outer lips. She pushed up, drawing the long cock back through her, a slow build of pressure welling through her groin.

A night breeze tingled over her breasts, cooled the exposed lower portion of the gargoyle’s cock. The icy feel of stone slipping inside her as she came down again only added to the breath-stealing tingle of pleasure.

She filled her pussy with the fat, hard shaft, stroked it in and out of her body. Her juice flooded through her, each thrust churning more from her body until the granite cock was greased slick. Medusa pumped her body faster, her pussy hugging tight so every carved ripple of stone skin sent a new wave of sensation shooting through her.

Her back arched, she rubbed her breasts and her tingling nipples against the stone chest. Faster, deeper, harder, she slammed her body down onto the pillar of stone until each impalement brushed her clit against the hard curl of pubic hair at its groin. The bite of sensation ripped through her, making her rock her hips to feel it again and again.

She writhed on top of the stone monster, fucking its hard cock, tossing her head, arching her back, propelling herself faster, faster. Wicked pleasure tightened every muscle in her body, zinged along her skin, coiled deep in her belly. Her pussy tightened and flexed, adrenaline building, pressing against her flesh, pushing her to give in to the need squeezing through every fiber of her body.

Not yet. She wanted more. She wanted to ride the stone monster’s cock all night.

But without warning her resolve faltered, and a gush of hot release flooded through her. Her breath caught, then shuddered from her mouth with the flutter of muscles pulsating in her sex. Her orgasm drenched the stone she pumped between her legs as she rode the last sweet spasms of her body. But just when she finally slowed to a stop, the stone cock between her legs…twitched.

Uphir’s hands latched on to the feminine hips straddling his lap on reflex. The sensation of her wet pussy muscles quivering around his cock was so mind-numbing he nearly let them both plummet to the sharp slope below.

He pumped his massive wings, set the two of them aloft again. The woman clung to him, a ghostly reflex of her old, mortal life, no doubt. Uphir knew her for what she was—a goddess. No mortal woman could undo a goddess’s curse. No mortal woman could undo him. He sent them higher, his cock still hard as stone—or nearly—inside her.

Hell’s bells, she felt good around him, tight and wet, her pussy muscles still milking his cock with quick little spasms. He rocked his hips, lifting her as he did, so his sex slipped through her walls, stroked his shaft. Her pussy clenched, hugging him so tight he nearly blew his control right there.

Uphir pumped in and out of her again, creating an odd rhythm with the flap of his wings, but no more difficult than walking and chewing gum. By the fourth stroke, her desire loosened the knot of her arms around his neck and the lock of her ankles around his waist. He drove into her again, ramming his cock as deeply as he sensed she’d taken him in stone.

The woman reeled back, nails digging into his shoulders, arms straight, angling her body to drive his sex deeper. Her long auburn curls spilled over her shoulders, and her breasts were offered up to him, their pert tips accented by rosy circles and hard, puckered nipples.

His next hard thrust ripped a gasp from her throat, set her straight again so those magnificent green eyes opened wide on him. Their gazes met, but a moment before she focused, her brows drew tight.

“Bastard.” Her eyes clouded to milky white even as the word hissed from her lips. All that beautiful hair began to twist and writhe about her head, snakes slithering, forked tongues darting in and out.

Uphir snatched her chin with one hand, wrenched her head so that lethal gaze cast out into the night. “Uh-uh, little goddess. I’ve already felt a stony gaze such as yours. We’ll finish what you’ve started before another of you curses me to granite again.”

But he couldn’t take her body as he wanted while one hand held her aloft with him, and the other kept her gaze aimed in a safe direction. He lowered them to the castle keep, pinning her back to one of the higher projections of stone circling the top of the tower like a crown.

Breath huffed out of the woman when her back hit the stone and he rammed his cock deep, hard, mercilessly. How long had it been—centuries, eons, an eternity? Uphir could hardly remember when last he’d felt the soft, feminine embrace of a woman’s body on his.

He was beyond restraint, beyond gentleness. And, as she was a goddess with a proclivity for turning men to stone, he felt little guilt in his rough abandon. He’d met her kind once before, and found nothing pleasant in the remembrance of it.

The goddess struggled against him, but only served to wiggle herself lower onto his cock. Her protests be damned, the female enjoyed his cock inside her.

Uphir tucked his head beneath her chin, his eyes safe from her angry gaze, his hand free to do as he liked. He spied her breasts, flush and full, white creamy flesh quaking with each hard thrust. He raised a hand, then remembered his thick, clawed appendages and hadn’t the concentration or strength of will to alter his form to human.

“Forgive me, m’lady,” he said, though his words were more a growl. “It’s been too long, and your immortal flesh is resilient enough to risk.”