Moonlit Goddess

Stan is not the brightest man but when an opportunity opens up, even he can't pass on it.

TW: Sexual content

Stan wasn’t a smart man, but by no means, was he a dumb man either. He just was him.

And, somehow, he’d claimed the perfect gig. Every Saturday night, Madame Louis left him the key to her immense manor with instructions to clean it. Expensive items filled the elegant house but he never felt inspired to steal from her. She paid well and he didn’t need to do much. He found the home always immaculate so he’d dust and get the cash.

He’d only met Madame Louis twice, when she interviewed him and when she hired him. She was older, perhaps in her fifties, but still a knockout. He would have liked to see more of her but she was never home during his visits.

On one of his weekend trips, he arrived a few minutes early and witnessed her slipping into her through the hedges into her garden. She told him she left the property but she didn’t do so. Confusion tore at him. Did she not trust him? He was an honest man. He’d never abuse her confidence, and he didn’t like the idea that maybe, she didn’t have faith in him.

So, he did what any honest man would do in his position. He arrived earlier the following weekend to find out what she was doing.

Not realizing he watched her, she stepped into the greenery in a pale blue, flowing gown. It fluttered in the wind, sculpting her body, dripping into the crevices of her femininity. It left very little to the imagination.

He imagined the wind ripping it away, exposing her breasts and shaved mound to the world. Getting on his knees before her, worshipping her with his tongue. His hands grabbed his head. What was he even thinking? Madame Louis would never sleep with the help, her beauty and money could give her anyone she wanted.

Dismissing his fantasies, he slunk after her, curious about what she did in the depths of her gardens. Her sweet perfume left a breadcrumb trail, guiding him down the path she’d taken. Around corners and twists, deeper into the maze of leaves and flowers.

The hedge opened into a clearing and he jumped back, praying she didn’t see him. He peeked around the edge to absorb the scene.

A solid stone table claimed the center of the small space. Madame Louis lay sprawled nude on the surface, the silver moonlight bathing her skin in iridescent worship. Her nipples, pink and pert, jutted at the sky. Her blue gown lay rumpled on the ground, tossed away so she could bare herself to the heavens.

Trying not to breathe too heavily, his eyes slid down her arm to her hand between her pale thighs, probing in and out of the shining lips. His train of thought completely derailed as he watched her long limbs slide into her slick, pink pussy.

His pants tightened and he had to release himself. He unzipped, doing it as slowly as possible to hide the sound. He didn’t want her to stop. Dizzy with lust, he gripped his dick and squeezed it. His tongue licked his lips as he watched her glistening fingers work magic.

Only a few strokes in, she turned her head and looked directly at him. He froze, praying she didn’t see him.

Her unoccupied hand stretched out to him and she folded her fingers in a “come hither” gesture. Shame burned in his cheeks when he stepped from behind the hedge. With his penis in hand, he felt like the little boy who’d got busted in the girls’ locker room.

She didn’t say a word in reprimand. Her legs folded even further open and her fingers trailed to her erect clit. A moan rolled from her, tugging at strings in his groin area. Gesturing to him still, she moved her other hand back to her folds and stretched herself open, inviting him in.

In reverent awe, he crept to her side. He started to remove his clothing, but she shook her head no. He climbed up on the stone table. Her light green eyes, sparkling with the moonlight, held his while he positioned himself.

His head rubbed at her moist opening, finding no resistance. When he pushed into her, she closed her eyes and arched her hips against him. Her fingers rose to his back, nails digging through his shirt, urging him on.

Wet heat enveloped him, dragging him deeper into bliss. She felt like a hot, velvet glove, clutching him into her depths. Her breasts bounced beneath him, rubbing his chest through the fabric. Silver blond hair spread around her head like a halo. She was his goddess and he would give her everything.

Her eyes popped open, the moon reflecting so bright it was as if he fucked the moon herself. He thrust and grunted, everything centered on the sensation of her wrapped around his cock.

And then he realized something didn’t feel quite right. Exhaustion ate away at his momentum. His arms shook with his weight and he fought collapsing on her. His thrusts devolved into weak wiggles. He needed to take a break.

But, she wouldn’t let go. Her arms pinned him in the air above her, her legs wrapping around his butt. She pulled him in deeper with breathy gasps.

When he tried to pull away, she dug her nails painfully into his back and shook her head. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth smoothed out and he noticed her skin seemed more supple, younger. She looked like she was in her thirties, max, not her fifties.

“Please, I need to take a moment,” he said.

She shook her head again. Her head tilted back, her legs jamming him into her. He couldn’t keep up the pace. He was going to keel over.

His gaze dropped to his hands and he froze. His hands! Age spots dotted the wrinkled backs, the skin was translucent and paper thin. They looked like his grandpapa’s hands, not his. Panic made him buck but she was so strong. She didn’t let him move away from her.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered. “Love me. Fuck me.”

What choice did he have? His dick, made harder still with the adrenaline pounding through his system, pumped into her with a ferocity not of his own. She drove him in and out with her feet and hands, her body driving him in until he felt like exploding.

Before he could come though, a fist tightened around his chest, squeezing his heart like a vice. He couldn’t breathe or cry out, only open his mouth like a dying fish. His body fell on top of hers right as she threw her head back and cried out to the night.

Sweat glistened on her skin, each tiny drop a shining pool of moonbeams. She smiled and caressed the husk of her one-time lover. Then she shoved him off her and the stone altar. His mummified remains shattered into dust when he hit the ground, leaving no sign of his existence.

She drank in the silver light with her nudity, absorbing it as one does the sun. Her hands wandered over her teenage fresh face, down her smooth neck, until she cupped her perky breasts. Her lips parted in an excited smile.

“Thank you, Stan, for your sacrifice.” She held the gaze of the moon and sighed with contentment. Her beauty had been fed by men like him for centuries and would continue to do so for centuries more. But, for the moment, everything was perfect in her world.