I could feel my body tensing again, tightening up the way it does before my infrequent second orgasm, and his pace changed just the way it should, his pumping a little slower, just a little less frantic, but lovely, oh so lovely.

The statue sat on the sideboard, its bronze lustre almost golden in the last rays of the sun. The little fellow was well proportioned, on the whole. Polished head atop a slim but muscled torso, redolent with the patina of polish and love. Solid legs held the body up from the statue's base. Bare feet, rubbed regularly for luck, were the least of the revelations. Bare buttocks, behind the body, flowed up to a straight spine. Solid brass, ancient and warm, all upstaged by the tumescent thrusting third leg.

His cock was larger than the bronze mold should have justified. Its girth was impressive, it's length just short of disturbing. The statue was polished with care and reverence. The erection was stroked with love, and sighs of regret.

Stories handed down through the generations suggested he was able to cause dreams, and aid fertility. In reality, of course, he was an interesting ornament. A good luck charm. A showpiece. A conversation starter. And finally mine. My mother had phoned and told me he was on his way to me via courier, and I'd just taken him out of his case today, and placed him in an appropriate spot. I expected many comments from my friends in the days to come.

I named him Dion, short for Dionysus. I knew that my mother, and her mother, and many generations of women before her, all had a pet name for the little man with the big cock.

My mother's phone call had not been expected. I'd talked to her the day before, explaining how it was unlikely now that she'd ever meet my boyfriend. He'd been living with me for about six months, and I'd decided it was time, when he sat me down and told me it wasn't working. He insisted it wasn't my fault, that he wasn't ready to settle down, that he didn't feel capable of commitment. He didn't believe what he said, and neither did I.

So now that I'd installed Dion, and had something to eat, the house seemed rather empty, and TV was boring. I took my book, gave the statue a polite kiss, stroked his cock like I had when I was a little girl, and wandered off, blushing a little, to bed.

The book held my attention for ten minutes. The plot was trite, the characters thin and predictable, the mystery transparent.

I put it down, turned off the light, and lay there quietly in the dark. I wasn't sleepy though. Wasn't ready to say goodbye to the world. I realised with something of a start that I was a little horny, a bit randy, in need of a little comfort.

I'd worn some pyjamas to bed, as the evening was cool, but now I didn't need them, and pulled them off under the heavy covers, wishing for a moment that the boyfriend hadn't left, and then remembering that he wasn't exactly the best in bed anyway. I'd masturbated regularly throughout our relationship, both with and without him, but it had been a long time since I'd had both the opportunity and the inclination to treat myself to a comprehensive self-love session.

As I cast my cotton clothing aside, my body felt weirdly smooth, as though I'd been polished, and my hands slid effortlessly over my body, exploring the familiar peaks and valleys. I loved the way my hands felt on my shoulders, and around my neck, the predictable caress of my smooth fingertips on the satin-like skin. I was sure I was glowing under the embrace, and after I dampened two fingertips from my mouth, I touched them lightly to my aching nipples, swirling on the two of them in unison, trying to ignore the throb from further down my body for a little longer.

My breasts were on fire with need, and I took them both into my hands, squeezing them, and scraping the nipples with my suddenly rough skin. The points pulsed with pleasure at the attention, and I could feel a tang of remorse as I left them behind to seek new pleasures.

I had never liked the idea of my lovers touching my stomach. My navel was ticklish to an extreme, and the skin surrounding it was sensitive, and unforgiving. When I was alone, though, I could treat myself the way I needed to be, sliding and digging at the surface, pressing and squeezing, trying to tickle myself.

My fingertips returned to my nipples again and again, never gentle with them, roughly manipulating them, in stark contrast to the gentle caresses on my stomach. My breasts welcomed me back every time, loving the pinch, or the tug on the thoroughly attentive skin. The skin lower down my torso provided some kind of relief, like just the right amount of sugar with tart strawberries. I thought about that, too. About a long lost lover who ate fruit from my body, spread juice over my nipples, scraped rough fruit skin down between my breasts.

I found myself unable to completely ignore the rest of my body, and my feet had begun to caress my legs, as and when they could reach, one toe sliding poignantly up the back of the opposite leg, sending sparks flying via my brain to my open, hot wet, inviting, desperate mound.

The hands that had been so happy near my navel slipped irreversibly down my torso, over that expanse of firm clear skin to a small forest of dark curly hair. Fingertips made their way through the forest, my mind remembering with another blush the way that I'd combed the hairs when I was younger. From when they'd first appeared, I'd tidied them, the bristles of the hairbrush lovely and sharp, painful at first, but in my control. I remembered the wonder, the guilt, and the glorious pleasure that spread through my body when I realised how much more I could do with the handle of the brush. I blushed again, despite my arousal, at the memory of that first time, when I'd gone beyond caressing, beyond rubbing my little clit with the handle, and had turned the brush around, and slowly, gently, but with great determination, slid it up, and inside myself. It had taken a few tries before I got there, and it wasn't entirely without pain, but it felt absolutely wonderful inside me, spread, full, and so alive.

It was like that now, too. My fingers had paused at my clitoris, to assure it I'd be back, but then slid down between my thighs, between my lips, deep down inside myself. I loved this feeling best of all, such control over my body, intimate and personal, private and secret, a part of me no one else really understood.

As my now slippery fingers slid in and out, they slipped over and around my clit, in no hurry at all, enjoying the journey as much as the inevitable destination.

My mind wandered further then. No more detailed memories of former lovers. Hell, there had been a fair number, I knew that. Not a lot, but enough. I'd loved them too, all of them. No rampant one-nighters for me. Even the one woman had been a well thought through plan, though I had no desire to repeat that experience. Somehow, despite not thinking any of these former partners were an appropriate fantasy for now, a gallery of them scrolled in front of my eyes, their eyes watching intently. I always did like to show an appreciative audience what I liked, and I smiled at that memory.

Then it came to me. I knew what I really wanted right then. I wanted a cock. Not some tender new-age equal rights cock. Not a pompous educated penis. Not even a stern uniformed phallus, though that idea featured wonderfully on other occasions. No, what I wanted was a proper, solid, large, hard cock. A prick, with attitude. Something good, and dependable. A workman, if you will. A cock I could rely on. An erection with the will, and the goods. A hard hard-on. Like the one Dion had, out in the living room. An insatiable devourer of arousal.

The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. I closed my eyes, despite the darkness in the room, and assembled a scenario, while my fingers continued to caress my sensitive skin. In a way which had never happened before, I imagined I could feel that cock, a skinned version of Dion, a Greek God-like fucker, pumping above me.

I could feel him between my legs, waiting. I moved my hands out of the way, returning them to my needy nipples while the phantom cock found its way inside me, spreading me every bit as much as the first time with the hairbrush. I could feel his weight on me as well, somehow, his Greek breath heavy in my ear. His body pressed my hands down hard on my breasts, and I made the most of it, kneading and rubbing the globes as my imaginary lover started to move inside me.

It was a strange feeling. This huge slippery phallus inside me, slowly sliding in and out, sending messages to my nerves as his skin slid next to mine, his body pounding into me with reckless pleasure.

Losing myself in the thoughts, I removed my hands from my breasts and allowed his body to press hard on mine, his hard heaviness sliding against me with every thrust. He didn't say anything, but his breathing was becoming obviously laboured, his large body lifting and falling.

It was all I could take, and the next time the rigid shaft slid out, he tickled my clitoris one time to many, and I came, shuddering beneath my phantom lover, as he continued his relentless lovely pounding. Even though my body was on fire, and my muscles were no longer under my control, I knew I wasn't finished, and I willed myself to get back into rhythm with his movements, my hips thrusting against him, loving the feeling of him pulling out and thrusting deep inside me, playing my post-orgasmic body like an instrument. I knew I was going to come again, before the first one had even finished.

Taking the chance that I might destroy the image, I reached my hands down my body, and lifted them, before dropping them carefully where his butt would have been. I must have been delirious, because they fell on two solid, firm, sweaty buttocks, and moved with him as he pounded me. I pulled with my hands to encourage him further on his inwards strokes, and moaned desperately on his withdrawal.

I could feel my body tensing again, tightening up the way it does before my infrequent second orgasm, and his pace changed just the way it should, his pumping a little slower, just a little less frantic, but lovely, oh so lovely.

I was suddenly on the edge, ready again to come, but able to sit there, enjoying the spot, the power, the readiness, before I plunged once more into the abyss, digging my fingernails into his ass, pulling him close to me, willing him to finish, to come inside me as I was exploding around him. And he did. His body tensed up, his buttocks became rock hard, and his cock... well it seemed to grow just a little larger. Still without making a sound, his hard body shook, and both of our bodies orgasmed at once, the friction pushing us both too far. My contractions were heavenly around his, my thighs clamping hard on his solidness, as he pumped with great pressure, and released himself deep in me.

I lay back and relaxed as my body took care of itself, the pulsing between my thighs continuing on for longer than I'd ever know before, sweat pouring from my body as my nerves became ultra-sensitive, and I just wanted him to stay, to relax, and to stop fucking moving. He did. His big cock stopped thrusting, his chest stopped rubbing against mine. His breath disappeared from my ear, his weight vanished. And so did he. I was suddenly alone in my bed, exhausted, sated, and sore, in a lovely way.

I realised then that I'd completely lost track of reality, my fantasy taking over in a way that I'd never have believed possible. I was shocked, but not enough to overcome the feeling of warmth, comfort and release that was travelling through my body. I decided to accept it all at face value, and lay my sweaty head down on the pillow.

I promptly fell into a deep sleep, and the next thing I was aware of was the horrendous whine of my alarm clock. I flicked the damn thing off, foregoing the usual snooze button, and climbed from the bed. The events of the previous evening were sharp in my mind, and my body ached as though I'd had a thorough ravishing, as I stumbled to the shower.

After a dose of soap and hot water, the aches drained away, leaving me with a feeling of power and elation. I had been ravished, and I'd loved it. If I'd done that myself, then more power to me.

I dressed, choosing a sexy dress over my usual trousers, and padded out to the kitchen to get some food. I was famished. Just as I sat down at the table with a bowl of cereal, the phone rang. it was my mother.

"Hiya girl."

"Oh, hi Mum. What are you doing phoning at this hour?"

"I wanted to catch you before you went to work."

"Good timing. I'm eating."

"Am I interrupting?"

"What? Don't be daft."

"Okay. Listen, I just wanted to remind you of something."

"Oh, yeah? What's that, Mum?"

"You are chirpy today, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am, actually. So, what is it?"

"Well, this might sound a little strange, but the statue."

"Dion?"

"Oh, he'll like that. I called him Julio."

"Oh. Cute."

"Yeah. Well, ummm... well, I wanted to make sure you gave him a quick polish."

"Polish? Oh, yeah, I cleaned him after I put him on the dresser. Why?"

"No, no. Not then. This morning."

"This morning? No. What in hell for?"

"Well, just trust me. Finish your breakfast first."

"You changed your medication or something?"

"Ha ha. You'll see. Have a wonderful day. I bet you feel like a world-beater."

"I... yeah, I do, actually. How did you know?"

"Oh, gotta go. Phone me tonight, if you want to talk."

"Yeah, but..."

She hung up the phone then, and I was sitting there, the phone receiver in one hand, and my spoon in the other. I realised there was no way I could finish my cereal now, and put down both the phone and the spoon, and stood up from the table.

As I walked through to the living room, I could see Dion, his metal skin shiny in the sunshine. I walked closer, a little worried about what my mother had said. As I got close I noticed. It was his cock. The bronze erection was looking a little dull, discoloured maybe. I grabbed a few tissues, and wiped them up and down, removing the residue, and realising what the familiar smell was. It was me. My arousal. My juices. My come, all over the now gleaming cock. When I looked up at Dion's face, I could swear he was smiling at me. I gave him a couple of extra rubs in lieu of thanks, and went back to the kitchen.

There was no way in hell I was waiting until the evening to discuss this with my mother.

Apr 2006
Sexy. Nice.
      GBF: Thanks again.

Apr 2006
Hi. I just finished reading your story. I must say, that I didn't expect it to end the way it did. What a pleasant surprise. :) I think that this one is one of your better stories. It was a bit different then the "usual" sex story, but I loved it. Ke
      GBF: Different is my middle name. :-)

Mar 2006
WHat is this; the X-rated version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer? And where's Dawn, anyway; duct tape or no? And how come the rating meter doen't go up to 11?
      GBF: Nothing to do with Buffy... Good idea though.

Mar 2006
Ah, my dear Gentle... You've done it again. An excellent story. Somewhat predictable, but deliciously written nevertheless. I longed to be Dion... Thank you, for your creativity, style and keeping me on your list.
      GBF: How could I *not*? :-)

Mar 2006
This is a good story bur not nearly your best. ?? (does she have a name) is a sexually experienced woman that really needs a man to satisfy her but since none are available, she takes control herself. Not terribly exciting but predictable. And no dialog
      GBF: Strangely enough, my scores for this one are much higher than the other one you mention. Can't win 'em all! :-)

Mar 2006
Hells Bells! What about a female statue?
      GBF: hey, great idea!

Mar 2006
Very interesting story. I thought that it was quite good and enjoyed it very much. Thanks for sharing...
      GBF: Not at all. Thanks for reading!

Mar 2006
Both of them were awesome.
      GBF: Oh, great!

Mar 2006
Nicely done - very good control of imagery and fantasy. (And a hell of a good tale!)
      GBF: Thanks for that. It was fun to write, too!

Mar 2006
Very nice; makes me want to go read my old Thorne Smiths... Thanks!
      GBF: You know,not being American, I had no idea who this was, and had to look it up. Thank you VERY much!

Mar 2006
Oh Golly Gentle, you should be in the hall of fame for this story. So, so wonderful. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....:-)
      GBF: Oh, why are these ones always anonymous? :-(

Mar 2006
thx lots! i havent been on the web in a while and its nice to check my mail to see such a wonderful suprise! i realy appreciate it and thank u again! ^^ ur ultimate fan Byron *and the crowd goes wild* lol
      GBF: :-)

Mar 2006
You do pull off some real duzies. I really like both of the shorts and, of course, I'll vote for you. I just gave you a 10 on this one and all your stories are, and this is really important, consistantly wonderful. Thanks for your writing. You certa
      GBF: Well, thanks a lot!

Mar 2006
Great erotic story. I'd love to have been that statue. Looks like dreams have a wasy of coming alive, at least for this young girl. Very provocative and very interesting. Let's have some more.
      GBF: More? Not of this.

Mar 2006
A really lovely story but one question? Why did mum ever give it up 8-)
      GBF: That's what mothers DO!

Mar 2006
I had an idea where it was going and I greatly enjoyed the journey, very nice ride. Thanks for the great story. I'm off to see what others you have.
      GBF: Do that. Thanks.

Mar 2006
"The skin lower down my torso provided some kind of relief, like just the right amount of sugar with tart strawberries." OMG that is brilliant! An outstanding analogy!
      GBF: Thanks!

Mar 2006
That is *awesome!* I love it!
      GBF: Oh, good, because I added this comment to the page! :-)

Mar 2006
This was a surprise. This reader enjoyed this fun fantasy. The language and contruction was excellent and the whole idea really erotic. The ***** was a nice touch. The ***** the morning after! I chuckled. Thanks for writing - such a good story.
      GBF: Glad you liked it. Sorry to bleep your comment.

Mar 2006
A very interesting twist. I liked this story alot, it was very arrousing.
      GBF: Pleased you liked it.

Mar 2006
Definitely off-center and a solid little story! Bravo!
      GBF: Great! Thanks.

Mar 2006
Yummy.. I want one. Wonderfully arrousing and well done as always. It definately gives me some ideas. - Meow.
      GBF: it wasn't exactly intended to shock. :-)

Mar 2006
This was certainly a story in a different vein than I'm used to reading, and I found it very erotic. Excellent job! Fantasy at it's best.
      GBF: Thanks. I'll daydream at work more often!

Mar 2006
I love how this turned out - it has worked really well! I'm half tempted to go scouring the antique shops for a Julio/Dion of my very own! How do you get into a girl's head like that? I'm most envious.
      GBF: But you are already IN a girl's head. :-)

Mar 2006
And another truly arousing tale of 'Tail'! Where do you keep coming up with these story lines? Keep up the good work.
      GBF: It's my warped mind. Can't be a serial killer ALL day! :-)

Mar 2006
I enjoyed the story. I thought it was well put together and had an interesting story line. It wasn't "hot" like some stories can be but that's not required for the story to be enjoyable. Thanks for sharing.
      GBF: Thanks for reading!