Pandora's Other Box: Anal
Author's note:
This story accompanies Pandora's Other Box: The Three Way, published in February 2024. The stories may be read in any order. All characters are over the age of eighteen.
Thank you for reading!
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"Aaaand finally, Ms. Watson. Here you are," the professor said, sliding the graded final onto his student's desk. He walked back to the front of the lecture hall. "I want to thank all of you for your time and attention this semester in Greek Mythology 101. For those of you interested in pursuing further study, I also teach the 201 course, as well as Topics In Myth. But for now, I wish you well. Enjoy a well-deserved winter holiday and travel safely."
There was a rustle of activity in the hall, but no one got up. After a moment one of the students raised his hand. "Excuse me, Professor?"
"Yes, Carlos?"
"Umm, some of the students from last semester said that you shared a newly discovered story with them."
"Is that so?" the professor said, unable to hide a smile. "Would that be a certain story about Pandora and her other box?"
"Yeah, that's the one," Carlos said sheepishly, sinking lower into his chair.
The professor chuckled softly. "I did share it. As I explained to that class, one of my graduate students is working with the British Museum to translate recently unearthed texts from Hesiod and others. Some of them suggest that Pandora opened two boxes. The first, which everyone has heard of, contained various evils. The second held certain pleasures."
"We still have twenty minutes," another student pointed out. "Enough time to read us one."
"I suppose you could talk me into it," the professor said before holding aloft a freshly printed sheath of papers. "And as you can see this request comes as a complete surprise!"
***
Akadios cursed and lowered his head as an even stronger gust of wind scoured him with dust and grit. He staggered forward, clutching desperately at his baskets. If one blew away he would never be able to chase it down.
"All the gods!" he muttered. The walk back from the village to his hut on the Aegean Sea should have been faster than the walk there loaded with fish. But since Pandora opened her box of miseries the weather had become fickle and cruel, as likely to soak the land with an unseasonal rain as lash it with this choking dust. Still, he counted his blessings. He had reached the village before the winds hit, bartered his catch for a fair price, and was almost home.
His thoughts turned to Cilla. His wife by now would have finished the wash and tidied their home. On the days that Akadios went to the market, Cilla would make fish soup with lemon, herbs, and cream. Though it might be his imagination, Akadios thought he could already catch the scent carried on the ragged wind.
An even more pleasing thought found him. More often than not market days led to lovemaking nights. Cilla would have found time to bathe and prepared a bath for Akadios. When they finally slipped beneath the covers, clean and fresh, intimacy would welcome them readily. She was a demanding lover, but their nights spent in one another's embrace were worth the toil.
But not tonight. As Akadios topped the rise that led down to his home he at last earned shelter from the wind, but on the clothesline he spotted the undergarments that Cilla only wore during her moon time. He shook off the disappointment and went to greet her.
"Akadios," Cilla said, glancing up from where she stood near the cook fire. "You're home later than I thought."
She was in a mood, Akadios realized. "The winds were strong today, and the dust was heavy. Fortunately, I was able to finish the-"
"How did the bartering go?" Cilla said, interrupting him.
"It went well!" As he put away the baskets Akadios described his success at the market, but the news did little to soften Cilla's mood. When he went to kiss her she offered only her cheek.
"The soup is getting cold," she explained.
Akadios poured wine while Cilla ladled out two bowls of soup for them, served with bread.
"This is delicious."
Cilla shrugged. "It was better half an hour ago. I had a taste of it when it was fresh but of course, I have to wait for my husband."
"It was the wind," Akadios repeated. On evenings like this, he never knew whether to placate Cilla or immerse himself in his own world. He could mend his nets or perhaps take a walk along the beach to put some distance between them.
"The wind. Sure. Not your women in the market." Cilla took a generous gulp of wine, snatched away their bowls, and gave them a desultory scrub at the wash basin.
So that was it. Cilla's irrational jealous streak had always been difficult for Akadios to understand. His wife had accompanied him to the market many times and had seen the portly matrons with whom he bartered, women more interested in rubbing two coins together than the company of a man. That Cilla, still young and shapely, could so readily feel suspicious of other women was a mystery to the fisherman. Regardless, there was nothing he could do. Akadios would tend to his nets, pass a cold night, and go out early the next day to fish.
Akadios rose, but just then the sweetest sound swept across the beach to swirl through their hut. Some would later describe it as the pleasured moans of scores of lovers reaching release, others as the sighs of a hundred maidens. Akadios heard those and the sounds of the lyre, birdsong, and the surf. Cilla must have heard it as well, turning to him with a startled expression of joy, her sneer beginning to fade.
"Dios, what in the name of..."
But a wind interrupted Cilla before she could finish. The air in their cottage was still and heavy with the day's heat, but with a sudden gust, it was replaced by an exotic but calming breeze that seemed to enter as much through the walls as through the open door or windows. Like with the earlier sound, few would later agree on its composition, but all said it was as refreshing as it was sweet. Akadios caught the scent of freshly cut fruit, wildflowers, and herbs.
"I smell cinnamon!" Cilla gasped. "And honey. Grapes from my childhood!"
The pair stood transfixed as the elusive scent swirled around them. It seemed to Akadios to seep into his body and mind, soaking into his very soul. His skin tingled, and when he drew in and released a breath he felt more alive than ever.
"That was much like," Akadios said, struggling to find the words, "when Pandora opened her box, and yet the opposite. That was a sound of torment and despair, not joy and pleasure."
"And that first breeze brought a foul stench," Cilla recalled, "not sweetness and promise like this."
As a child, Akadios's father had taken him on a strenuous hike to a shrine on the mountaintop behind their village. As father and son had caught their breath, Akadios had seen the Aegean from a distance for the first time and had begun to appreciate its sprawl and reach. Before, he had known the sea only as the waves crashing ashore and the relentless lullaby of the surf. On that day he saw ships plying the waters and storms on the horizon. He noticed for the first time the different blues of deeper water versus shallow, and how the wind kicked up chop around the points but left the bays placid.
It was like that now with Cilla. With the evening's magic soaking into him, it was as if Akadios saw his wife's body for the first time, finding in every inch of her a temptation. Not just her lips, but her neck and ear demanded kisses. If he were to press his face into her hair, he knew, the reward would include the scented oils she used and also those of her skin and the sea. And when he noticed her slender arm, Akadios's imagination filled him with certainty of just how he would hold her, how achingly soft her skin would feel against his rough fisherman's hands, and how she would yield to him.
Cilla continued cleaning. Though some of her earlier anger was still visible, she had softened a touch, even turning her gaze to Akadios more than once, her eyes brazen. The evening's magic had affected her, too.
Akadios couldn't contain his desire. "We should make love."
Cilla looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes sharp and alive. For a moment Akadios thought she was ready but his wife shook her head. "You know it's my moon time."
"Then I hate the moon," Akadios muttered.
"Hmmm," Cilla replied before returning to her duties.
Still aroused, but with no outlet likely, Akadios decided to bathe. Cilla had heated a pot of water earlier that though it had begun to cool, remained warm enough for a bath. He ladled it over his scalp, rinsing first his wavy hair, then sighing as rivulets reached his shoulders and chest. Fishing didn't favor a bulky physique but rather a limber and taut one. As he washed himself, glimpses of his body were almost as distracting as Cilla's. Calluses didn't diminish the strength of his hands, and veins popped along his arms. Hard abs and muscled thighs provided a suitable background for his heavy cock. Akadios was a man in his prime, alive and surging with desire.
An impulse seized him. Akadios finished bathing but didn't dress. As Cilla tidied the kitchen he tugged the sleeping pallet from the corner to in front of the door. A curtain offered privacy but Akadios pulled it back, opening their hut to the night and the sea air.
"Dios!" Cilla said, looking over her shoulder to take in his naked body and the open doorway. "Anyone walking along the beach could see you!"
"Let them see me," Akadios said, approaching his wife from behind. His hands reached for the belt of her tunic. "Let them see you."
"I'm not done cleaning!" Cilla complained. Her earlier fire had returned, but more as a challenge than an outright refusal.
"You are," Akadios said. He blew out the oil lamp, throwing the hut into darkness except for the fire's dancing light.
"They could still see us," Cilla grumbled, but didn't fight as Akadios continued undressing her.
"They should be so lucky." Once he had loosened her tunic Akadios took a moment to run his hands over his wife's silky skin.
"Your touch is rough."
"You didn't marry a coin counter."
"Perhaps if I did we'd have more than a few coins of our own."
"A soft man who wouldn't know how to love you at the end of the day."
"Well, I, mmm." Cilla seemed about to voice an objection but as Akadios's hands grew bolder she only sighed, "You know this can't go anywhere tonight."
"No?" Akadios lifted the tunic from his wife's body. Even the fading fire provided enough light to showcase Cilla's curves. They had made love less than one week earlier but touching and embracing her now he wanted her again, and urgently.
"You know that," Cilla repeated, but let him lead her to the pallet. The tide was coming in, bringing the sound of the sea close, a relentless backdrop.
"I do." Akadios guided his wife to lie down, but before joining her he brought a bottle from the kitchen.
Cilla was facing away and couldn't see. "What was that?"
"Nothing, my love." Akadios lay behind his wife, spooning her. Shortly, as their eyes adjusted to the night, the couple could make out the sand, the sea, and the stars that illuminated them. The sliver of the moon was just rising.
"I remember," Cilla said dreamily, "the first time we made love."
Akadios nuzzled his face into her fragrant hair. "Yes?"
"You took me out on your boat. Farther than I wanted to go until our village was just a dot. I wanted you to take me back but then I saw in your eyes how much you loved the sea, what it meant to you. Its power."
"Ever since I was a boy," Akadios admitted.
"That night," Cilla continued, "I let you ply me with wine. You thought you were being so subtle, but I knew what you wanted."
"And you gave it to me."
"Yes. You brought a blanket down to the beach and claimed me there."
"Mmm." Akadios's erection was pressing urgently against Cilla. She, out of necessity, pretended to ignore it. But after a moment of cuddling Akadios pulled back, fiddled with the bottle, then pressed his cock between his wife's thighs.
"Dios, what?" Cilla asked, startled at the slippery ease with which Akadios's organ slid between her legs. "What did you..."
"Olive oil," Akadios chuckled before pulling back and forward.
"Oh... it's like... like you're..."
"It is, isn't it?" Akadios dribbled a few more drops of oil on his shaft. "Touch it," he urged, "then touch yourself."
Hesitantly, as if unsure such a thing was even possible, much less permitted, Cilla brushed her fingers against the head of Akadios's slippery cock. "Oh..."
"Now," Akadios suggested, "touch yourself."
"All the gods," Cilla whispered as she obediently stroked her most sensitive parts with oil-slick fingers. "It's slick, almost like you're inside me."
Akadios pumped Cilla's thighs several times. "Didn't you hear the sound, feel the wind? Didn't you sense the possibilities?"
"I did."
Outside, the shore birds squawked and strode along the surf, jabbing slender beaks into the sand. The night air blew into their home, swirling unpredictably.
"The wind told me about this," Akadios said, before sliding his cock to the very top of Cilla's thighs. When he pumped her now, the head brushed against Cilla's slit.
"You know we can't," Cilla gasped. "My moon time!"
"I know." Akadios pumped a few more times before pulling back. Cilla relaxed, but when she felt cock pressing against her backside she tensed again.
"What are you..."
"You feel it, don't you? Felt it earlier?"
"What?" Cilla asked as Akadios's oil-slick cock pressed forward.
"The possibilities." Akadios was spooning Cilla, and he closed in with an intimate embrace, his lips against her ear. "We can do anything. Nothing is forbidden, nothing unknown."
When Cilla hesitated before replying, Akadios knew he and his wife had heard the same message whispered in the wind, hidden in the exotic scent. "Yes," she said at last.
"Then you know we can do this." Akadios urged his cock forward, sliding between Cilla's cheeks to tickle her sphincter.
She tensed again. "I, I don't know."
"We can." With his hands gripping Cilla from behind, Akadios held her in place while he probed her. When his cock began to open her, she tried to wriggle free.
"Akadios..."
"If the gods," he replied, "so easily gave us pestilence shouldn't we also accept their gifts?"
Cilla whimpered but let Akadios push. His cock was as ready as he was, a demanding spear of hard flesh, glistening with oil. "You saw my organ earlier. While I bathed."
"Y, yes."
"What did you feel when you saw it?"
"I felt that... I..."
"Say it," Akadios urged. The head was almost in.
"That you could do whatever you wanted to me," she whispered. "Use me."
"Yesss." Akadios had always found Cilla to be a demanding partner in bed. She insisted on specific positions and rituals, chiding him bluntly if he failed to perform as she desired. But with the evening's magic still suffusing them, and with Akadios's cock opening Cilla's ass, she had become more compliant. When he pushed deeper she tensed but voiced no objection.
"You can..." she said.
"I know." Akadios dribbled more oil on his aching rod before thrusting deeper yet.
"Oh, Eros," Cilla cried out.
"He is with us, as is Aphrodite, as are gods and goddesses unknown."
"They rule us," Cilla sighed, "but only you own me."
Cilla was like a goddess herself. She lay submissively before him, her skin turned ivory by the moonlight. The angle highlighted the slenderness of her waist, the ripeness of her hips, and the curve of her ass as Akadios claimed it. He teased the hair back from her neck, exposing more pale skin.
"You've never given yourself to me more sweetly."
"Yes," she sighed.
Akadios took Cilla in a hundred small steps. He urged his cock in, pulled back, then pushed again just deeper than before, carefully watching his wife's expression for signs of pain. When her brow tightened he slowed. When she winced he applied more olive oil. And when a tear slid down her cheek he kissed it away. Almost without realizing it, Akadios had buried his shaft fully.
Cilla gulped back a sob.
"That's it, that's it," Akadios assured her. He nuzzled his wife's neck, kissing her sweetly. "You've taken it all."
Even an hour earlier the moment would have been unimaginable. His once-quarrelsome wife lay before Akadios soft and compliant, her body bathed in moonlight, her backside dripping with oil. An hour ago neither of them had considered that intercourse could be anything other than vaginal. Now Akadios's cock was buried in Cilla's deliciously snug ass.
"How long have we been married?" Akadios asked.
Cilla was still torn with the bewildering combination of pleasure and pain but found the strength to answer. "Two years and two moons."
"And in that time have I ever owned you so completely?" he asked, pulling his cock partially free before thrusting once more.
"Nooo," Cilla gasped, "not like this."
Akadios thrust then thrust again, taking ever greater liberties with his wife's ass. "Do I own your ass?"
"Ohhh, my husband, yes."
"And do I own your pussy?"
"Yes, my lord!"
"And if I want to fuck your mouth will I?"
Cilla trembled. "You can fuck my mouth," she groaned. "Fuck it like you do my pussy, like you do my ass."
Reality melted, shifted, and re-formed around them. What had been unimaginable became possible. What was possible became a need. He pushed his cock faster, caution eroding beneath the river of unchecked desire.
But it wasn't right. Their position spooning on the pallet felt too tender, too intimate. It was how a couple made love, not how a man tamed his wife. Akadios pulled out, drawing a surprised yelp from Cilla. But before she could object he pushed her top leg forward, then rose to his knees. Straddling his wife's lower leg he reentered her, now free to go deeper than before.
"Akadiooos," Cilla sobbed.
He offered only a grunt in return. Hovering over her like some monster from the sea come to devour a sacrifice, Akadios kept Cilla pinned in place. Selfish lust consumed him utterly as he drove ever deeper and harder, watching his wife's expression of tortured bliss. Outside, the surf broke and crashed.
Cilla had offered her mouth for use but Akadios was intent on completing his claim on her ass. "Touch yourself," he said hoarsely, then watched as his wife obediently slipped fingers to her slit.
"Oh," Cilla said softly. She slid her fingers across her clit and into her pussy. "Ohhh," she repeated.
"Yeah," Akadios groaned. When had he ever been so perfectly hard? Every muscle, every sinew, labored to drive him deep. Rough fisherman's hands dug into Cilla's hips. "Cum while I take your ass."
Cilla lay limp and compliant, the only motion that of her slim fingers dancing over her clit. Akadios tested her, taking her roughly as he watched for any signs of resistance. There were none. Rather, Cilla began pushing back against him, urging Akadios ever deeper as she grew near release.
"I never knew..." Cilla panted. "Such power. Such pleasure."
"Nor I," said Akadios. The looming orgasm was surging within him, robbing him of control and judgment as he used his wife's body without mercy.
Cilla let out a long, mournful groan that tumbled forth to confront the waves. "Do it," she said, the earlier tremble turning into a shudder. "Own me."
Unable to hold back bliss any longer, Akadios succumbed. With a gasp that became a roar, he dug his hands into Cilla's yielding flesh, planted his cock deep, and unloaded a jet of hot cum. Akadios bellowed into the night, sending the remaining shorebirds into the sky.
Beneath him, Cilla called out her pleasure. Even with her face half muffled in the bedcovers, her moan of complete submission and ecstasy echoed through their home. Together their cries of delight mirrored the inner ecstasy, not just more intense but more nuanced than any Akadios could recall. The hot pressure of Cilla's virgin ass coaxed every strand of pleasure from his core, weaving them together into a shattering orgasm. Drained and exhausted he slumped forward, barely able to support himself. Beneath him Cilla had slipped into a near trance, as depleted as her husband.
The night and the sea were one.
***
The professor steered his cart past the other shoppers. Though he and his wife hadn't decided on dinner, he picked up a few essentials from the grocery store. Next to a chicken, he dropped bell peppers, onions, a jar of sun-dried tomatoes, and parsley. Cherries were an impulse purchase.
In the next aisle, he located balsamic vinegar, but as he added it to his cart his eyes caught on something else. Much like Akadios from the myth he had shared just hours before, the professor's mind swam with new possibilities. He added the bottle of olive oil to the cart and then texted his wife.
Honey, he typed, let's try Greek tonight.
The professor revealed a newly discovered story about Pandora and her second box, containing pleasures, that he shared with some of his students. This story was a result of recent translations from Hesiod and other mythological texts.
As Akadios returned home, he noticed Cilla's undergarments hanging on the clothesline, indicating she was on her moon time. Despite his disappointment, he greeted her warmly, only to find her moody and distant.
