How often do we make seemingly random choices that profoundly alter the course of our lives? We all pride ourselves on being rational beings, making decisions after weighing all the possibilities and considering the consequences. In fact, I believe that most people are far more irrational than they admit. This was certainly true in the case of my wife and me.
It all began when we were contemplating how to celebrate my wife Daphne’s fiftieth birthday, which coincidentally was also our thirtieth wedding anniversary. My own half-century celebration a couple of years earlier had been easy. My sister’s husband was a geologist with a major oil company, and they had been posted to the company’s headquarters in New York for eighteen months. We had never traveled further than Western Europe, so this seemed like a golden opportunity to visit the United States. However, it was much harder to decide where we would both like to go, even though I suggested that the final choice should be Daphne’s.
We agreed that the best way forward was for each of us to suggest various alternatives. Ultimately, however, we decided that we would like to return to Cyprus, which by chance was the only destination that appeared on both our lists. We had vacationed in Cyprus as a family once before, twenty years earlier, when our children were young. Back then, money was a significant limitation, so we had booked a fortnight’s holiday in a basic apartment in a 1960s complex in Paphos. We enjoyed our time despite several minor disasters, such as blocked drains and a cracked washbasin in the bathroom that fell apart on our last day after someone dropped a tube of toothpaste. At that time, we could only afford to hire a car for a few days, which limited how much of the island we could explore. Now that the children had left home and Daphne had been able to return to work, money was no longer an issue, and we booked a traditional three-bedroom villa for a month in the southern foothills of the Troodos mountains, about twenty miles from the coast.
One month before our departure, Daphne received a phone call from her cousin Valerie, to whom she was very close. Valerie started by apologizing but wanted to ask us for a big favor. Her twenty-year-old daughter Ruth was going backpacking around the Greek islands with her boyfriend while we were in Cyprus, and she wondered if we would be willing to put them up for a few days. Daphne responded that she didn’t think it would be a problem, but would call back after discussing it with me that evening. After she explained the situation to me when I got home from work, I said that I could see no reason not to help. However, I wondered if they realized there were no longer any ferries from Greece to Cyprus, although there were plenty of cheap flights from Athens or Thessaloniki to Larnaca. It was ultimately agreed that Ruth would phone us on her mobile from Greece a couple of days before their arrival to let us know the flight details so we could pick them up from Larnaca airport.
~~~~~~
Our flight from Manchester to Paphos on a sunny morning in early May was uneventful. However, the queues at the car hire booths at the airport were long, and nearly 90 minutes passed after our plane had touched down before we were on our way. We took the road headed toward the village of Kouklia and the area known as Aphrodite Hills, famous for its proximity to the mythical birthplace of Aphrodite at Petra tou Romiou and the open-air sanctuary where she had been worshipped as the goddess of fertility for over 5,000 years.
We had brought tea and coffee with us, but we stopped at a small supermarket in Kouklia for essential supplies such as bread, butter, cheese, cooked meat, olives, tomatoes, and of course, wine. As we drove away from Kouklia and up into the hills, we could see the towering slopes of Mount Olympos in the distance, the summit still capped with snow. The first thing we did upon arriving at our villa—even before unpacking—was to enjoy a simple al fresco lunch in the small garden by the pool at the back of the villa. The surroundings were idyllic, and we were serenaded by the chirping of birds in the pine trees and the hum of bees in the bougainvillea that cascaded over the walls of the building.
After lunch, once we put our clothes away and stowed our suitcases, we were finally free to change into our bathing costumes and lounge in the sun by the pool. Daphne had bought a rather skimpy white bikini and a brightly colored sarong especially for the holiday, and I couldn’t help but think how lovely she looked. The sunlight was intense, so we began applying sun lotion to prevent burning. Daphne asked me to do her back, and to make it easier, she unhooked her bikini top before lying face down on her lounger.
After fulfilling this pleasant duty, I wiped my hands, reclined back, and picked up the novel I had purchased at Manchester Airport. Set in Cyprus, it was described on the back cover as a charming, passionate, and romantic tale of a woman’s voyage of rediscovery, faced with her husband’s infidelities, sudden bereavement, and unwanted advances. It seemed to be ideal reading for a romantic holiday on the island of love.
It might have just been the book—or perhaps something in the air—but I began to feel like a lusty young man again. When a gentle breeze sprang up seemingly from nowhere and ruffled the folds of Daphne’s sarong, I felt the stirrings of my libido. A sudden desire to undo the two little bows that were the only things holding her bikini bottoms in place surged within me. A moment later, an even bolder idea entered my mind: our villa was in an isolated spot, and we were unlikely to be disturbed by visitors, so why shouldn’t we dare to sunbathe naked? As I watched her, Daphne stirred, sat up briefly, not bothering to conceal her breasts. “Darling husband, isn’t this wonderful?” she mouthed, before blowing me a kiss and lying down again to luxuriate in the sunshine. Just as I was about to suggest sunbathing nude, I chickened out at the last moment, and the words died on my lips.
Soon, I too was overtaken by the languor of the afternoon and fell into a light doze, my mind filled with vaguely erotic dreams of beautiful girls in diaphanous gowns dancing around my bed in the sunshine, beckoning me to get up and follow them. As they danced, it suddenly felt as though fingers were gently stroking my penis through my trunks. With a start, I woke up and looked around, but Daphne was still lying face down as she had been when I dozed off.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. In the evening, we took the car and drove to a nearby taverna where we enjoyed our first Greek mezedes, followed by baklava and dark, sweet Greek coffee. The deep-fried baby squid were particularly delicious—so different from the rather rubbery fare in restaurants back home—and the whole meal was washed down with a bottle of local wine. Daphne did not particularly like the resinous flavor, and I must admit that I drank more than two-thirds of the bottle, so it was fortunate that I had listed her as a named driver when I hired the car.
For the next few days, we simply lazed around the pool. I finished my novel within a couple of days and passed it on to Daphne, hoping she would find it as erotic as I had. She readily agreed with my suggestion that we had no need to wear bathing costumes, and after several days in the blazing sun, we both developed an all-over tan for the first time in our lives. Until then, our lives had been very conservative, and our sex life had grown rather stale. However, the combination of wine, sun, and what was for us unaccustomed daring had a liberating effect on our libidos, and we made love several times a day, often in the open air.
A week after our arrival on the island, I received a call on my mobile phone. When I answered, it was a rather tearful Ruth on the other end. I must admit that I had forgotten all about her, and at first, I felt a bit irritated that the isolation of our deliciously sybaritic lifestyle was going to be interrupted by two strangers. But politeness took over, and I asked what the problem was. Ruth replied that she and her boyfriend had a massive argument over a girl they had met on Lesbos and had broken up. She continued by saying that she would be on a flight arriving at Larnaca at noon the following day, and if we didn’t mind, could she spend a couple of weeks with us before flying home? Of course, I agreed, expressing how nice it would be to see her, but privately I was rather irritated—a few days would have been manageable, but two weeks? The things we do for relatives!
The morning after Ruth’s arrival, we decided to explore the area around the villa. Our first stop was at Aphrodite’s sanctuary, which we explored for an hour, and then we made our way down to the coast to her reputed birthplace at Petra tou Romiou. Daphne and I sat by the car while Ruth wandered off on her own to explore the beach. We were chatting about what a wonderful idea it had been to return to Cyprus when she rushed up, bringing another young woman with her.
Ruth breathlessly blurted out, “Hey Ralph and Daphne, meet Anastasia. She was born in England, where her parents had moved from Cyprus to open a Greek restaurant, but when they died in a fire, she had to come here to live with her only living relative. She thinks he is a great uncle or something, and he is definitely ancient. Although she learned Greek from her mom and dad, she can hardly understand a word he says and is so bored with no other young people to hang around with.”
She paused to catch her breath and then went on excitedly, “Can she come and stay with us? There is a spare bed in my room, please say yes! She won’t be any trouble, and it will give me someone my age to talk to.”
“Well, that will depend on her uncle,” Daphne replied. “I have no objections as long as Will agrees, but we must ask him first before making any decision.”
“Oh, thank you, Daphne,” trilled Ruth, “Can we go ask him now? They live just a few miles away in the hills above the villa.”
Daphne looked at me, but I said I could see no harm in Ruth having a female companion of comparable age. Anastasia was beautiful, with long honey-blonde hair, which contrasted with Ruth’s raven locks. She wore a very brief pair of shorts that showcased her shapely legs and a T-shirt. Not wearing a bra, her T-shirt clung to her deliciously full breasts, with her nipples prominently outlined in the thin cotton fabric. My private thoughts were a bit naughtier, and the prospect of having three beautiful women around me throughout my holiday was extremely appealing.
Without further ado, we all piled into the car and made the short journey to the small house where Anastasia’s great-uncle lived. I say “house,” but what we found at the end of a rough track looked more like a shepherd’s simple hut—definitely not an appropriate home for a young woman raised in suburban England. The impression was heightened when we stepped out of the car and saw a man amid a small flock of what I assumed were sheep, although they looked more like goats than the familiar animals we see in England. Anastasia shouted a welcome in Greek, and the man turned and strode vigorously down the hillside toward us.
As he approached, we could see he was indeed very elderly, but despite his small stature—only about five feet tall—he was striking. Wearing only goatskin trousers and naked from the waist up, his wiry torso conveyed great physical strength, and his skin was burnt the color of walnuts. He was totally bald except for a small goatee beard, and a hint of a smile hinted at an enduring amusement at the world, but most striking of all were his dark twinkling eyes above a long hooked nose.
Speaking in Greek, Anastasia introduced us and explained our purpose. After a few minutes of heated discussion with Anastasia, they agreed that she should come back with us. While she went indoors to pack a small suitcase, he shook my hand and muttered something deep in a voice that sounded like Pankratios, which I assumed was his name. He then tried to press some notes into my hand to cover her food costs, but I returned them, thanking him for his kindness with some of the few Greek words I had picked up. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that drachmas were no longer legal currency.
On our way back to the villa, we stopped at a local taverna for a simple lunch of bread and fish, accompanied by a few glasses of a sweet white wine that the girls preferred. It was then generally agreed that we had done enough sightseeing for the day and that it would be a shame to waste the glorious sunshine.
Upon arriving at the villa, Ruth took Anastasia to their bedroom to unpack her few belongings. Daphne also went upstairs to our room to freshen up, while I settled by the pool. I stripped off my shirt but kept my shorts on for decency, disappointed that my days of nude sunbathing must come to an end. However, when the three women came outside, they were all completely naked. After thirty years of married life, I was accustomed to seeing my wife nude, but now I was surrounded by three beautiful naked women. I was captivated by the contrast between Daphne’s voluptuous middle-aged curves and the slim bodies of the two girls with their pert little breasts. I am no more or less of a voyeur than any other red-blooded male, but I struggled to hide my arousal at the wondrous sight of the three very different sets of intimate charms on display just a few feet away. Daphne had a full bush of hair that concealed her more intimate areas, while Ruth had a neatly trimmed bush, similar in color to her dark hair. Anastasia, however, was completely shaved, and her prominent inner lips and clitoris were enticingly visible.
As the women looked at me and laughed, Anastasia teased that I was a spoilsport for hiding my manhood while they were all naked, and the two girls seized my shorts and pulled them off. To my embarrassment, I could no longer hide my penis, which quickly sprang from semi-erect to fully aroused.
The girls then dived, giggling, into the pool, but Daphne just smiled and said, “Mmm, you are a naughty boy; I will have to do something about that later.”
~~~~~~
It was very late when we got home that night after another pleasant meal, and we almost immediately retired to our separate bedrooms. The events of the afternoon had left me in a state of erotic anticipation all evening. Daphne obviously felt similarly, for as soon as we were in the privacy of our room, she stripped off her clothes and lay back on the bed with her legs parted in an almost lascivious pose. Our lovemaking had taken on a new dimension in the last few days, and I knelt between her legs to worship her most intimate beauty. The heady scent of her arousal as I buried my nose in her hair acted like a drug to my already heightened senses, and my erection throbbed with lust and desire. But before I succumbed to the urge to bury myself in her silky depths, I focused entirely on her pleasure. Soon, my licking and sucking of her distended labia and hard clitoris sent her into ecstasies. Eventually, I could restrain myself no longer, stood up, and pulled her onto my proud staff until I had reached deep inside her. The intensity of my arousal surpassed anything I had felt in years, and after a few moments of exquisite thrusting into her hot depths, I exploded with streams of hot cum that sent her into a fresh paroxysm of delight. Later, as we lay kissing and cuddling in naked intimacy, we became aware of the unmistakable sounds of pleasure coming from the girls’ bedroom. Initially, I was a bit shocked, but Daphne merely smiled and whispered, “Why shouldn’t they have some fun? You’re only young once, after all,” before turning over and falling asleep in my arms.
Around mid-morning the following day, when Daphne and I were enjoying a second cup of coffee, there was a loud knock at the front door. The girls still had not appeared, although a lot of giggling came from their room. We exchanged glances, wondering who it might be since the only people we had met since our arrival were Anastasia and her peculiar relative. Daphne went to the door first, and when she returned a few minutes later, she held a small wooden box. She looked slightly flushed under her tan, and when I asked about it, all she would say was that the mystery caller was a rather gorgeous young man. I laughed and said she didn’t usually react quite that way to the postman at home, but despite my pressing, she wouldn’t say more. Upon opening the box, we found a simple handwritten card inviting us to an informal party later that afternoon at Aphrodite’s Sanctuary. When Ruth and Anastasia finally appeared, we informed them about the invitation. I mentioned that I didn’t see how we could go, but the girls were very enthusiastic, while Anastasia stated that it was considered extremely rude in Greek society to refuse an offer of hospitality.
We arrived at the Sanctuary around five o’clock, shortly before the last tourist parties were departing for their coaches. A tall young man greeted us at the entrance, introducing himself as Apollonius, expressing delight that we had come.
He kissed Daphne’s hand before turning to Anastasia and embracing her warmly. However, I was quite surprised when he said, “It’s good to see my niece after such a long time; I hope these kind people have been looking after you.”
I couldn't understand how he could be her uncle. They appeared close in age, and she had clearly stated that Pankratios was her only living relative. When she returned his kiss and referred to him as uncle, I was even more perplexed but decided it must be playful teasing. Daphne's reaction that morning was less surprising, however; Apollonius was tall and muscular, and his tight-fitting white chinos and T-shirt left little to the imagination—he was undoubtedly well-endowed. His handsome face seemed to radiate with inner light, topped with tightly curled golden hair, but most striking of all were his piercing blue eyes.
He led us through the ruins among fallen pillars toward what remained of the Temple of Aphrodite. As we walked, he shared the site's history, informing us that in ancient times, a custom compelled every woman, regardless of their status, to sit outside the temple at least once in her life and have intercourse with any stranger who tossed a few coins into her lap. Even today, he said, women would come and anoint a huge conical stone at the center of the temple with olive oil to ensure their fertility.
Small groups of people stood chatting under brightly colored umbrellas that had been arranged in the temple. When we reached them, they welcomed us warmly and invited us to help ourselves from the tables, where jugs of wine and a variety of Greek delicacies awaited. Among the guests, I was surprised to see Pankratios. He was slightly better dressed than when we met him the day before, wearing a sleeveless leather waistcoat over his bare torso and knee-high boots instead of sandals. He ignored us, including Anastasia, and continued conversing with a couple of pretty girls in thin, flower-patterned mini dresses. There was not a breath of wind, and the air shimmered in the oppressive heat of late afternoon, making us glad of a cooling drink. The wine had a distinctive and unusual—though not unpleasant—taste, as if flavored with herbs and spices, and after a couple of glasses, I felt very sleepy. Despite my efforts, it quickly became impossible to keep my eyes open. Someone offered me a chair, which I gratefully accepted, and in no time, I fell into a deep slumber.
I must have been asleep for quite some time because when I awoke, it was dark, the only light coming from lanterns hung from the olive trees. I couldn’t recall there being any trees, and when I looked around, the scene had utterly transformed as if I had been transported back to the age of Classical antiquity. I was still sitting in front of the temple, which was no longer a ruin; its pristine white marble columns loomed up into the darkness, and I could hear the sound of women’s voices chanting a wild and ecstatic song charged with erotic allure.
A beautiful young woman emerged from the temple, naked except for a nearly transparent garment. She gestured for me to remove my clothes. Once I was naked, she took my hand and led me into the temple, where I was met with a scene of wildly explicit sexuality. A dozen naked maidens danced in frenzied abandon to the sound of the chant, while a young woman resembling Ruth was being ravished by a young faun thrusting his long, curved phallus between her quivering buttocks in time with the savage rhythm of the ululating voices.
Behind the massive phallic altar stone, two thrones of marble were visible; seated on the left was the goddess herself, resembling a much older version of Anastasia. Naked, she held a large black dildo—approximately fifteen inches long and three inches in diameter—with which she gently stroked her pussy, the lips parted to reveal the pink flesh within.
The nymph who had welcomed me at the entrance knelt in front of me and began to stroke my cock with one hand while gently cupping my balls with the other. As my erection grew, she licked the tip of my penis before taking the head into her mouth, delivering a remarkably expert blow job. After several minutes of exquisite bliss, she sensed my impending climax, squeezing just behind the glans to prevent me from coming in her mouth. Gesturing toward the couch in front of the altar, where the goddess now lay with legs parted in clear invitation, she beckoned me to ravish her.
“Come and worship,” the goddess/Anastasia commanded in a loud voice, “come and make your sacrificial offering in my body. Fill me with your seed and ensure the land’s fertility in the ecstasy of our union.”
I was powerless to disobey. Standing before her, she drew me between her thighs and took hold of my aching cock. After stroking her pussy with it for a few moments, she positioned the swollen and purple head at the entrance of her cunt and pulled me deep inside until I was fully engulfed in her tight, velvety warmth. As I entered her, she moaned with pleasure and kissed me with such intensity that only intensified my passion. We began to fuck each other, slowly at first but with increasing intensity, thrusting together in harmonious motion as we ascended to a state of divine exaltation.
The chanting of the choir crescendoed as our climaxes approached, until, with a powerful bellow, I exploded in exquisite agony, pumping streams of thick white cum deep into her pulsating cunt. As I soared among the stars in the rapture of my orgasm, her body convulsed, wave after wave of indescribable sensations ripping through her. Her head was thrown back, her mouth open, and at the peak of her pleasure, she let out a piercing scream of triumph as we were both possessed by her divine power in mutual ecstasy.
The orgy continued around us, and everywhere I looked, couples were engaged in frenzied lust. Until that moment, caught up in the urgency of my own desire, I hadn’t given a thought to Daphne. But now, I began to wonder if she was also part of this savage worship. As if in answer to my thoughts, Pankratios entered the temple, followed by Daphne, who was led by the hand by two naked nymphs. She was naked except for a crown of laurel, and she meekly allowed herself to be stretched out on a marble bench. Pankratios danced and twirled in front of her, his long cock waving enticingly, and he was about to plunge it deep into her when a commanding voice rang out.
Everyone fell silent as a golden youth strode into the temple. His naked body glowed with inner light as he crossed the mosaic floor to sit on the other throne, his massive penis standing proudly erect from his loins.
“She is mine, and your father, Pan, would be disgusted that you imagined you could take what belongs to the god,” he roared, “now bring her to me and crawl back into the darkness where you belong.”
Two nymphs lifted Daphne from where she lay and carried her up to the throne. Apollonius—divine Apollo—lifted her effortlessly and, placing her above his magnificent shaft, pulled her down until every inch disappeared inside her. A new, wordless chant rose from the lips of all present in the temple as she began to ride his rampant shaft on her journey to sexual rapture. Then, I passed out, overwhelmed by the heavy scent of incense from the braziers on either side of the altar and the transcendent debauchery surrounding me.
When I eventually awoke, the scene had dissolved into night air, and I found myself back in the villa, lying in bed with Ruth and Anastasia on either side of me. Exhausted and satiated, astonishingly, my cock stirred and hardened as lascivious memories of my vision incited new desire. Anastasia left her position at my side, straddled me, and slowly sank until I was fully engulfed in her warm cunt while Ruth sucked my balls into her mouth, caressing them with her tongue. Anastasia rode me until we both came in a mutual orgasm of startling intensity, sparks flying off in my head like firecrackers.
As I descended from the heights of my pleasure, I asked about Daphne. Ruth laughed and said, “Come with me, and I will show you.”
She took me outside, and in the moonlight, I saw Daphne and Apollonius lying by the pool. Just as I had seen in my magical vision in the temple, she was riding his cock, wholly surrendered to the irresistible commands of the gods of love and pleasure. Emotionally shattered and overwhelmed with doubt and confusion, I retreated inside, my ears tortured by their cries of ecstatic union.
~~~~~~
The next day was a day of reckoning. It wasn’t until lunchtime that we all sat together to discuss the repercussions of the previous night. Ruth, Anastasia, and I sat on one side of the table in the kitchen while Daphne faced us, leaning against Apollonius with a dreamy, content look in her eyes.
Ruth was the first to speak. “I’ve checked the flights to London and am going to return home tomorrow. These past few days have been wonderful and liberating, and I will never forget what you have done for me. Thank you all so very much. I will always love you, but it is time for me to move on. Since I left school, I’ve been drifting, but I have grown up at last and know exactly what I want to do with my life.”
A long pause ensued. Just as I was about to speak, Daphne quietly said, “I’m sorry, Ralph. You have been a good husband and father, but I feel as if I have come home, and I won’t be returning with you at the end of the holiday.”
I was devastated and exclaimed, “What about me? What will I say to our children, our families, and our friends?”
I began to tear my hair in anger and grief, but Anastasia placed her hand on my arm to calm me. “Dear Ralph,” she said, “I will come with you as your wife.”
“But that’s not possible!” I cried.
Anastasia stopped me in my tracks with a wave of her hand. Then, her face and body began to dissolve, and in the blink of an eye, she transformed into the exact likeness of Daphne.
“But won’t you miss your home?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Not at all,” she replied. “The days of the old gods ended long ago. We were very arrogant and proud when we commanded the worship of ordinary people, treating them like playthings. But long years in the shadows have taught us the meaning of real love and humility. I renounce my divinity here and now, and I will be content to grow old with you.”
A pregnant pause followed, and finally, Apollonius spoke. “Anastasia is right,” he said. “In my pomp, I was haughty and cruel. When I fell in love with Daphne, she fled in terror from my advances. The river god took mercy on her and transformed her into a tree, but now she has miraculously returned to me, and I will never let her go again. I, too, renounce my divinity, but I will use my magic one more time.”
He gently placed his hand on Daphne’s head and closed his eyes in concentration. Before our eyes, the years fell from Daphne until she looked like the beautiful young woman I had married.
~~~~~~
The enchantment of that afternoon lingered with us for the rest of our holiday. Together with Daphne, Anastasia, and Apollonius, I explored everything the beautiful isle had to offer, from the heights of the Troodos mountains to the baths of Aphrodite in the north, where we frolicked naked in the waves, bathed in the gentle light reflected from the turquoise water of the Mediterranean. We visited Greek temples, recited verses in Greek theatres, and toured the Tombs of the Kings and the newly uncovered mosaics in Paphos. We went to monasteries and marveled at the paintings of St. George and other early Christian saints on cave walls. Throughout this, Anastasia and Apollonius served as our guides, sharing their amazing and encyclopedic knowledge of the island, stretching back to the times of the first human settlements.
When we were alone, Anastasia and I explored everything two people could do to give each other pleasure. On the last afternoon of our holiday, she led me to a shady glade at the end of the garden, and there in the cool shade, she worked a final miracle. The air around us thickened and darkened, leaving us in a bubble of clear golden light. The sound of wordless chanting enveloped us, reminiscent of what I had heard in my dream, and as if magnetically drawn, we came together for a long kiss, our bodies pressed against one another, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths, faces, and necks. As we melted together, we were filled with a sense of incredible lightness and joy, almost as if we shared each other’s emotions.
Anastasia remained true to her word, returning with me to Manchester in the guise of Daphne. The real Daphne and Apollonius accompanied us to the airport. Daphne gave me a final goodbye kiss and wished me every happiness for the future. I reciprocated her blessing, then turned and, without a backward glance, walked through passport control to the departure lounge. That was the last time I ever saw her.
Anastasia did not entirely relinquish her magical powers, however; every night in my arms, she transformed into the young girl I had met on the magical island of love. To my delight, we were blessed with what I can only describe as a miracle when Anastasia became pregnant. Despite her appearance, she sailed through pregnancy, and as I write these words, my beautiful young son is sitting on my knee, smiling and laughing in innocent joy. He is a bonny young fellow with rosy cheeks and a mass of golden curls, and every time I look at him and remember that magical holiday, I give thanks to whatever gods there may be for their great gift to me—and to Daphne.
