Nymphs and Satyrs

By Willie Cici published March 12, 2018
Dawson finds himself in a tragic situation -- doomed to repeat the same mistake, time and time again . . .

“Nymphs and Satyr”, William-Adolphe Bouguereau, c.1873, oil, canvas, 260 x 179.8 cm. Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, MA, US. (To see the painting, click here). According to the Clark Institute, “a group of nymphs have been surprised, while bathing in a secluded pond, by a lascivious satyr. Some of the nymphs have retreated into the shadows on the right; others, braver than their friends, are trying to dampen the satyr’s ardor by pulling him into the cold water. Even though one of his hooves is already wet, he doesn’t want to go any further. Satyrs cannot swim.

Dawson opened his eyes. The morning sun crept through the closed blinds and sheers that covered the bedroom window. For a moment, he surveyed his environment. As he turned his head slightly to the left, Dawson smiled. Lying next to him, last night’s conquest, a curvy brunette, continued to sleep. Dawson closed his eyes. He replayed in his mind last night’s revelry. Minutes later, Dawson felt a velvet touch upon his sleeping member. Dawson opened his eyes and found the brunette fondling his cock, slowly inching her way to Dawson’s groin. In an instant, she licked his balls, his shaft, his mushroom head. Dawson smiled as he gazed into the brunette’s dark brown eyes. As she swallowed his cock, Dawson closed his eyes and let the masterful wench perform her duties. When Dawson signaled his impending orgasm, the brunette pulled his cock out of her mouth and stroked Dawson to climax. With cum drizzling down his wilting cock, Dawson smiled and kissed his host.

“You are … incredible.”, Dawson said.

“You, too, Dawson.”, the vixen replied. As Dawson fumbled to find his clothes, the vixen lay astride on the bed, watching Dawson. “You don’t know my name.”

“Sure, I do. La . . eh . . ry.”, Dawson mumbled.

“Asshole! You don’t know my name.”

“I’m bad with names. Always have been.”, Dawson apologized. “Don’t take it personal.”

“It’s Stephanie. In case you call, which I’m sure you won’t.”

Dawson adjusted his junk in his jeans and fixed his t-shirt. As he put on his socks and shoes, he said, “Do you want me to call? I’m not into games. I told you last night. I’m into having a good time.”

“Nah. Don’t bother.”, Stephanie said, tossing Dawson aside.

“What! Two orgasms not enough? And don’t give me that faking bullshit. I felt your body tremble when I went down on you. The second time you squirt. Nasty.”, Dawson replied, as he rose and strode out of Stephanie’s bedroom.

The vixen followed Dawson into the living room and to the door. “You’re an asshole!”

Dawson turned around and stared at his curvy host. He grabbed his crotch and said, “And this asshole’s cock fucked the shit out of you. You’re welcome.”

“Get out, you fucking pig!”, Stephanie shouted.

Dawson laughed as he climbed down the stairs of Stephanie’s apartment building. “Dumb bitch!”, he muttered to himself as he made his way out of the apartment building and towards the parking lot of the suburban apartment building.

As Dawson ignited his car engine and drove away, he shook his head. “These fucking whores. Honesty is not what they want. I could not have been more honest. I told her upfront: no strings, just fucking. If she agrees, how can she get mad afterwards?” Dawson shook his head. This was not the first time he encountered a fickle, two-faced date. In January alone, Dawson bedded a dozen women, all of them complaining that there was no cuddling after mind-blowing, howling, squirting orgasms. “Selfish bitches.”, Dawson muttered as he drove to his apartment to catch some sleep before his 4pm shift on the highway construction crew.

When Dawson arrived at work, his foreman walked over to him and said, “We have two new guys who are joining us tonight. Show them the ropes.”

Dawson shook his head. “Sure. Whatever.” He knew better than complain to his foreman. Dawson had no respect for his foreman, let alone his employment. When the foreman returned with the two newbies, the foreman introduced the two men to Dawson and advised them what their duties would entail that evening. “Okay, boss. Whatever you say.” The foreman left the two men in Dawson’s charge. “I didn’t catch your names.”

“I’m Mel and this is Des.”, Mel said. “Dawson, right?”

“Yeah.”, Dawson answered. “You guys do this work long?”

“About two years. We just moved here from Vegas.”

“Why would move from Vegas to this hell hole?”, Dawson asked.

“Change of scenery.”, Des said. “Sometimes, you get tired and need some inspiration.”

“Whatever.”, Dawson answered. “Let’s get started.”

The boys started their work, digging up the city street to replace hundred-year-old sewer pipes. At the end of their 4 to midnight shift, the boys packed their gear and headed for their cars. Mel and Des approached Dawson and said, “Any places to get a drink nearby?”

“Yeah.”, Dawson. “’The Tap Room’, down the street.”

“You want to join us?”, Des asked.

Dawson had no where to go. “Yeah. Why not?”, he said. Dawson headed towards the foreman’s trailer and said, “Boss, you got any more of those company t-shirts.”

“There in the back.”, the foreman said.

Dawson walked in the trailer, found the company logo t-shirts, grabbed three shirts and walked out of the trailer. He walked over to Des and Mel and tossed them a clean t-shirt. “It’ll have to do. Can’t go in sweaty and smelly.”

“Good thinking.”, Mel said. The boys removed their t-shirts, tossed the soiled shirts in Dawson’s car trunk and headed for the ‘Tap Room’, down the street from the work site.

Dawson and the boys settled in for a couple of drinks. At 2am, closing time, Dawson found himself drunk and unable to get home. Mel and Des grabbed their new friend, called a cab and returned to their apartment on the outskirts of town.

When Dawson arrived at Mel and Des’ apartment, he said, “Where am I?”

“You’re at our apartment.”, Mel said.

“You two fags live together?”, Dawson said.

“Yeah.”, Mel answered. “We do.” The boys carried Dawson into the bedroom. As Dawson lay on the bed, the boys slowly removed his work boots, jeans and t-shirt, leaving Dawson in his boxers. Mel and Des smiled as they removed their clothes, revealing their taut, muscled bodies. Dawson closed his eyes and fell asleep, the alcohol overcoming his senses.

An hour later, Dawson opened his eyes. He lifted his head. “Why are you naked?”, Dawson asked.

“Because it’s time to play.”, Mel answered. Dawson stared at the muscled stud before him. His ripped core, sculpted chest and strong limbs complimented the erect beast that lay in his groin. (To see Mel, click here). He did not understand what Mel meant.

“Yes, Dawson. It’s time to play.”, Des said. Dawson turned to face Des. Practically a carbon copy of Mel, Des was also naked, tanned, ripped and hard. (To see Des, click here).

“I don’t want to play.”, Dawson said as he collapsed upon the bed, still inebriated and unsteady.

“Sure, you do.”, Mel said. He caressed Dawson’s chest and fondled his groin.

“I’m … not …”, Dawson said. Before he could finish his thought, Mel and Des hopped on the bed and nibbled and licked on Dawson’s balls and shaft.

“Doesn’t that feel good?”, Des whispered.

“Yeah, but I’m … not …”, Dawson replied. The sensation of Mel and Des’ mouth stimulating his genitals overtook any rational thought Dawson had to objecting to their machinations. Dawson’s cock grew harder and harder. His balls churned as he readied to orgasm. “I’m … so hard. I want to cum.”

“Then, cum, Dawson.”, Mel said. Dawson blew his wad, spraying his goo on Mel and Des’ chins and lips. Still feeling so warm and cuddly from his climax, Mel took Dawson by the hand and positioned him on the bed, doggie style.

“Isn’t it fun to play?”, Des said, as he now slid his rock-hard cock into Dawson’s mouth. The stunned stud did not know what to do. At first, he spit Des’ cock out of his mouth, but the muscled stud quickly shoved his cock into Dawson’s mouth, making sure that his cock remained in his mouth. “Oh, no. You have to play.”

“I … don’t …”, Dawson mumbled.

“It’s fun to play.” Mel said, as he fingered Dawson’s ass. Dawson moaned, but Mel did not relent. He slid his massive cock into Dawson’s ass.

“I … . don’t …”, Dawson mumbled.

“But Dionysus bids you to play.”, Des said.

Dawson stared curiously at Mel and Des. Their tanned, manly physiques became milky smooth skin of taut, lithe men, whose complexion cast an earie glow. For the rest of the night, Dawson found himself the willing, lustful plaything of Mel and Des, the nymphs of Dionysus dispatched to dispatch the libertine Dawson and rescue the female population from this modern-day misogynist. Mel and Des forcibly taught Dawson the technique of pleasing a man with his mouth and his boy pussy. At first, Dawson fought the nymphs. When Dawson swallowed the first load of cum from the cock of the nymph, Melissae, and felt the warm sticky load from the cock of the nymph, Pantiamades, Dawson could no longer resist. He had succumbed to the will of the gods.

Mel and Des swapped positions. The nymphs of Dionysus could not resist their new plaything, filling Dawson’s mouth and boy pussy with their oversized, engorged phalluses.

The sun filled Dawson’s bedroom. He opened his eyes. He recognized his environs. “I’m home.” He sat up in his bed, holding his head, suffering from a hangover. “What a horrible dream!”, he whispered. He placed his feet on the floor and slowly rose from the bed. “What is that smell?”, he said. He rushed to the bathroom, ready to vomit. He ran the cold water in his sink, cupped his hands and drank some water, rinsing the rancid taste from his mouth. He stared in the mirror. “What happened to my hair?”, he said. His long Thor-like, blonde locks had changed to a cropped, dark brunette. Dawson realized that he was naked, but did not realize the transformation of his studly physique. He was cut, ripped and beautiful. Dawson gazed upon his dangling member, already hefty, but now, thicker and slightly longer. Dawson’s cock slowly rose, coated in a crusty film. “I’ve got to shower.”, Dawson said to himself. He hopped in the shower, ran the hot water, and quickly washed away the dried cum from his chest, his cock, and his buttocks. As he coursed his hands upon his groin, Dawson’s cock thickened and demanded attention. His soapy hand stroked and pumped his cock. “What am I doing?”, he said. “Why am I so horny?” As fast as these thoughts entered his mind, Dawson soon forgot nothing but the pleasure of his hand bobbing on his rock-hard cock, showering his groin with cum.

After Dawson finished dressing, he hurried out of his apartment and rushed to Jenkins Park. It was a bright, sunny morning and the milfs would be out seeking a stud. As he jogged about in his skin-tight shorts and black athletic shirt, Dawson’s muscled frame glistened with sun-kissed perspiration. He spotted a hottie that he had tried to seduce on prior occasions. Dawson decided to pose for the hottie walking his way, and rest underneath the shade of a tree. (To see Dawson underneath the tree, click here). As he sat under the tree, Dawson’s memory replayed his time with Mel and Des. Horrified, Dawson closed his eyes. He then heard a voice. “Change your ways or else.” When Dawson opened his eyes, he hoped to find who had spoken to him, but no one was there.

Dawson rose to his feet, when he noticed the hottie milk, changing directions. As he jaunted towards his milfy target. Dawson fell faint. Again, he reclined and experienced more flashbacks of Mel and Des’ playtime. He closed his eyes again hoping to shake the feeling. “Change your ways or else.”, the voice in his head repeated. Dawson opened his eyes, rose to his feet and headed towards the hottie.

Dawson approached the hottie and said, “No questions. Just come back to my apartment.”

The hottie looked at Dawson and said, “Sure.” Dawson and his hottie jogged back to his apartment. The moment the couple entered the apartment, they tore off their clothes. The hottie reclined upon the couch in Dawson’s apartment. “Don’t keep me waiting.”, the hottie said, as he jiggled his engorging member. Dawson gazed upon the hottie in his apartment, his taut, muscled physique, accentuated by his hands posed above his head. (To see the hottie, click here). Dawson knelt near the hottie and slipped his warm, wet mouth over the hottie’s massive cock.

As he pleasured the hottie, Dawson thought he heard whispers and giggles. He stared at the hottie who reclined, closed his eyes and reveled in his good fortune. As the hottie climaxed, cum slithering down Dawson’s throat, the whispers and giggles subsided. The hottie stared at Dawson and said, “I’m not done. I want that ass.”

Dionysius watched his handiwork as Dawson pleasured the young nymph the god dispatched to the park to tempt and lure the mortal Dawson. Mel and Des had brought Dawson to the brink of destruction, but it was his unchecked lust that ended the life that Dawson knew.

Dawson was unaware of his transformation.

Dawson was no longer a satyr. He had become a nymph.

This story could use more ratings!
Please use the controls below to rate this story
Mind control
Wanking material
You've created tags exclusively for this story! Please avoid exclusive tags!