Telemachus always wanted to be like his father. Odysseus, the man who won the Trojan war, fighting alongside the Greeks for ten long years. He was instilled the values of valour and bravery by his mother, Penelope. With no central male figure to look upon to, Telemachus had to rely on his mother for all the teachings. Although she did not know how to handle the sword or the shield, she oversaw his schooling. Every week, a new tutor was brought in, usually a former general of Odysseus, who would teach Telemachus the different trades of being a ruler. This included sword fighting, horse riding, formations and tactics of war along with economics and law and order of the Ithacan kingdom. Penelope was an audience for every class of Telemachus. This was her way of filling in the void left behind by her husband.
Penelope was seventeen when she got married to Odysseus, who was a decade older to her. Telemachus was born a couple of years after her marriage. For a girl in her early twenties, looking after a kingdom along with bringing up her son was too much to ask for. Yet she was strong enough to handle both. Often in the stillness of the night, she prayed. The prayers were usually to protect her husband who had crossed the Aegean sea to fight the biggest war of the time. She prayed to Zeus, to Athena, to grant his husband strength and wisdom. With time, the prayers were less about her husband and more of herself. She prayed to the gods to give her strength and wisdom to run a kingdom on her own and bring up the future heir by herself.
Penelope was beautiful in her way. She did not possess the looks of a nymph that people would die for. Yet her features were sharp with a face of the shape of an inverted triangle along with sharp eyes and nose. Her lips were not too thick and the colour of her blonde hair complemented her chestnut eyes. The way she applied kohl gave a smoky effect to her eyes, which enhanced her beauty. There wasn’t a tinge of uncertainty in her eyes. For all their beauty, they were the eyes of steely determination. Everything Penelope said was the last word in Ithaca. No one dared question her decisions. This is what had made her run the show even in the absence of her husband. And yet again, they were the most trusty eyes in Ithaca. When she said something, everyone trusted her. She would lead them all with her steely-eyed approach and everyone would follow her with eyes shut, placing complete faith in her.
It was her eyes that Odysseus fell fall when they first met, strolling in the lawns of the garden of the palace. When he first got news from Agamemnon about the impending war, he was still very much in the honeymoon phase with Penelope; making love to her twice a day. He wasn’t too keen on the war. Not that he was afraid, but he wasn’t an all brawn no brain guy. Graced by the wisdom of goddess Athena, Odysseus always thought of outwitting opponents was way better than overpowering them. He was in no rush to leave behind everything for the war, least of all his loving wife and their new-born son.
But the nature of war is such that to gain something you need to give up on something. Thus Odysseus had to give up making love to the queen if the Greeks were to reign sovereign in the Aegean.
Penelope, on her part, could have strayed upon a whim. She could have slept with dozens of men and not a single word would have reached her husband, let alone the subjects who respected her so much. But she chose not to. All the love she had for her husband was now repositioned and equally divided between her son and the people of Ithaca. Hell, she did not even know if Odysseus would ever return. Why wait for him? Because something inside her always told that he would surely come back.
Telemachus was now approaching his twenties. It had been nearly two decades since Odysseus had sailed from Ithaca. The most beautiful girl in the kingdom was now a woman, on the verge of becoming a cougar. Imagine being fucked by your husband twice a day for a couple of years and then suddenly left high and dry without any sort of physical intimacy. It was almost two decades that Penelope had had sex with anyone. The last time she had it was with Odysseus a night before he left. It felt like a lifetime ago. She had even forgotten what making love to someone felt like. She did not even know if she would ever get to make love again as the Trojan war was over ten years after the departure of Odysseus and here almost another ten years later, there was no word from him. Many claimed his ship had sunk while returning. She refused to give up on her hope though.
One such morning, Penelope was lazing around in her room which had large windows overlooking the palace. Her room was in the tallest tower of the palace which gave her an aerial view of the island. Lying in her bed, she could see Telemachus approaching her room. She gazed at him as he walked. He had the same walk like his father, the same swagger and the same hair. Although his beard was not yet fully developed, she could imagine Odysseus. She gazed at her son with affection mixed with a tinge for longing.
Telemachus waved aside the curtains of the door and entered his mother’s room. He was the only person in the kingdom who did not need permission to enter Penelope’s room. He stood at the entrance and stared for a few seconds at his mother. She was wearing a white chiton, the dress for both sexes in ancient Greece. Underneath she did not put on a stophian or bra and perizoma or underwear. As she did not intend to go to the court anytime soon or meet anybody else, she chose these comfortable set of clothes. Telemachus gazed at her from head to toe, spending a few seconds more on her eyes, chestnut in colour with last night’s kohl spread all over her eyelids, which gave more fire to the smoky effect. She was now a lady, almost in her forties. She did not possess the same figure she had when she first came to Ithaca. The slim waist and petite figure had now blossomed. As she gave herself and her body as little time as possible, spending most of it on her son and administrating the kingdom, she now possessed a voluptuous figure with fuller breasts and bottom and a slightly increased girth, with a flat tummy nevertheless.
“Good morning, mother,” Telemachus said standing at the door.
Penelope gave him a warm smile and spread both her arms, asking her son to hug her.
Telemachus returned the smile with equal affection. For him, Penelope was the world. She had successfully filled in the duties of both mother and father. Telemachus had never known what it was to have a father. For him, everything started and ended with his mother.
He walked towards his mother, his pace a little hurried so as not to keep her waiting with her arms stretched or they may start paining hanging in mid-air. Such was his concern for his mother.
He sat on his knees by the bed and embraced his mother tightly, he was a strong man now. Penelope did the same, although her tight hug was no match for her son.
“Good morning, sweet love!” Penelope said in a tender voice and gave a peck on Telemachus’ cheeks.
Telemachus returned the same, his kiss lingering slightly longer. Despite being a man, Telemachus was yet to get married. He decided it wasn’t the right time until the return of his father. And yet, he was unabashed when it came to showing his affection for his mother. He had had his series of affairs in his teenage with the courtesans, both male and female. After exploring his sexuality, he settled for a long term affair with a girl from the village in the kingdom. This took up too much of his time and energy and Penelope expressed her displeasure for the relationship. Telemachus, without a second thought, stopped seeing the girl. Since then, his only focus was on helping her mother handle the affairs of the kingdom.
The two broke the embrace yet held each other in their arms. Penelope rubbed Telemachus’ cheeks with her soft hands slowly, “What is my young man up to so early in the morning?”
“I had gone hunting mother,” Telemachus held a braid of her hair hanging in front of her kohled eyes and moving it lightly to the back of her ears.
“Ohh, my prince must have had a tough time then?” She now rested her hands on the strong shoulders of her son.
“Not really mother, I shot down two deers today. I have asked one of them to be cooked for you.”
“Ohh, that is so thoughtful of you my love.” Penelope now sat straight on the bed with Telemachus kneeling between her legs. She held his face and kissed him on the forehead. She then moved his face to her bosom and held it tightly. Her lips turned into a pout, her cheeks red. She held the back of his hair with one hand and rubbed the other hand on his back. Telemachus meanwhile held his mother by the back.
“Have you done your breakfast already or will you be having it with me?” she asked.
“I haven’t had it yet mother, I’ll have it with you.” Telemachus’ voice was low as his mouth was smothered in his mother’s chest.
Penelope pulled her son’s hair and with that, his face came off her breasts. She tilted it slightly at the back and said in a hushed voice, “I love you so much. You are the only one who cares for me.”
She then let go off his hair and her hug and looked away at the window, staring into nothingness.
Telemachus knew what she meant. It was his turn now.
He flicked a few of his mother’s hair behind the ears and rubbed her cheeks. He then gently held her jaws and moved her head back in his direction.
“Look at me, mother. Look into my eyes.” Telemachus’ eyes were dark brown, having inherited the chestnut from his mother and the jet black of his father. “I don’t like it when you are sad. Everything that I do is to make you happy. It’s been twenty years and a woman like you does not deserve this loneliness. You must know, whatever happens, I am always there by your side.”
Penelope’s lips now turned into a smile, yet the sadness in her eyes was not gone. She held his cheek with one hand and rested the other on his shoulder, all the while listening intently.
Telemachus went on, “You have done so much all your life… for me… for the people of Ithaca. Now I am man enough to handle the affairs of the kingdom. I want you to rest and spare some time for yourself.”
Penelope looked into his eyes, took a deep breath and said, “I will… once he is back.”
Telemachus instantly shoved away from the embrace of his mother and stood up in his place. Penelope, scared by the sudden movement, flicked her eyes rapidly and moved back.
Telemachus then walked towards the window, stared outside at the hills and said in an enraged tone, “He is not going to come back! Don’t you understand that? It’s been twenty fucking years now! It’s been a decade since the war was over. Everyone is either home or dead. And if he’s not home, you know where he is!”
Penelope replied in an equally infuriating pitch, “Don’t you ever say that again!” She pointed her finger at Telemachus who had now turned to face his mother. “Don’t you fucking say that your father is no more. I would have known if he would have departed this world. He has not! Do you fucking get it?”
Telemachus opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He then walked slowly towards his mother, held her finger which was still pointing at him, closed it into a fist and kissed her hand. He then sat down on the bed beside Penelope.
“I am sorry, mother. I don’t mean to hurt you. I am just concerned about you. You say that father is alive. If he’s still in this world, why hasn’t he returned? What is stopping him?”
Penelope took away her hand from her son and rested both of them in her lap. She looked away from his son and said in a hesitant tone, “I don’t know. I think he must be in some trouble on his way back.”
“You telling me he’s in trouble for ten years. He defeated the Trojans in the greatest war of all time. There’s nothing in this world that could be troublesome for him for ten long years.”
Penelope did not say anything as Telemachus went on in a flat tone, “I know this is hard to accept but I guess you must consider the possibility that he must have started a new family somewhere.”
Penelope screamed in desperation, “No! It can’t be! No fucking way!”
Telemachus’ tone was however low, “Yes mother. This is a possibility that he must have left both of us and started a new world for himself.”
Penelope’s eyes could now no longer hold themselves back. The tears rolled rapidly through her cheeks, coloured black due to the kohl.
Telemachus, however, chose to go on, “It is time that you start considering the possibility of a new family as well. The whole kingdom is talking about it. Antinous, Eurymachus, Amphinomus and other suitors come to our court every day. You know they are here for you. I feel it is time you chose one of them as your husband.”
Penelope was shaking her head in disbelief. She had considered all these possibilities in her mind and yet had refused to accept any of them. However, her son now lay before her all the bare truths. It was very much possible that Odysseus had been unfaithful. Imagine being loyal to a war borne husband for two decades and then finding out he had started a new family somewhere. She could never imagine doing the same to Odysseus, least of all with any of the suitors who frequented the court and drank every day in hope to woo Penelope.
“I can never betray your father, my son. Never! How can you even ask me to do that? Or are you just eager to sit on the throne of Ithaca!” she buried her head in her palms and wept, struggling to breathe, struggling to speak, struggling to process things.
Telemachus now shifted closer to her and held her by the back of her shoulders, “I don’t want the throne. I’ll kiss your feet and serve you as long as you are alive. You know that mother. I just care about your happiness. You aren’t betraying him by seeing someone else. I am a grown man and I know a human has needs… needs of love. I just want your needs of love to be fulfilled, mother.”
Penelope immediately lifted he head from her palms and looked his son in the eye, “You already fulfil my needs of love, my son. You love me so much and I love you wholeheartedly.” She then rested her head in his son’s chest.
Telemachus moved his hand on her head and patted it gently, “You know that is not what I mean. I am talking about the love between a man and a woman. You look at the suitors, some of them are good-looking, some are strong, some are wealthy, why don’t you consider one of them?”
Penelope, still crying, let out a chuckle and put her arms around the back of Telemachus, “None of them is as handsome as you son, nor is anybody smarter or stronger than you. You are the best in all of Ithaca. And before you, it was your father.”
She was right. She always had the best of all – the husband and a son, the best in the entire island. How was she to settle for any of the suitors, who did not come close to the skills and qualities that her husband and now her son possessed?
Telemachus kissed her forehead, “Well, thank you mother, you think so highly of me. But I am talking about the needs of being a woman.”
Penelope now unchained the embrace and fell with her back on the bed, her legs still resting on the ground while her arms spread out. Her face was now drawn with black rivers as the tears carried the kohl to different parts of the face. She looked beautiful nevertheless. The kind of beauty that emanates from someone who is in deep sadness.
Penelope’s words came out in the air, “Since your father, you are the only one who has given me love and care. As for the suitors, they don’t even come close to you, let alone your father. How am I supposed to settle for someone so unworthy and meagre? I am happy the way I am, son. You shower me with love, affection, care, hugs, kisses. I don’t wish anything more.”
Telemachus lay beside his mother with his head supported by his strong arms, showing off his biceps, “Of course you do mother, every woman does. I can give you everything in this world. But what about your physical needs? Who will give them?”
Penelope turned her head towards Telemachus and lifted her chin with her finger, “You satisfy me son. I don’t need anyone else. I would die rather than fall for any of the bloody suitors. You give me comfort, the way you have always done. I am happy, I’ll survive and I’ll manage. The way I have managed for twenty years.”
She then raised her head from the bed and kissed Telemachus’ cheeks. The kiss was warm and lingered on. She then rested back her head on the bed.
Telemachus could feel his cheeks were somewhat wet. “Not anymore, mother. I won’t let you manage anymore, mother. I will manage this as well as I have managed everything else for you.”
He then bent his head and gave a peck on his mother’s lips. Penelope did not move. She looked him into the eye. Her chestnut coloured eyes now carrying a sparkle. Telemachus again bent and kissed Penelope. This time it was longer. While she did not respond initially, Penelope did move her lips and felt her son’s by the end of the kiss.
Telemachus now touched Penelope’s cheeks softly. He rubbed his fingers from her forehead all the way to the chin. He continued kissing her and she responded with her lips. The kiss was now gathering pace. It wasn’t tender anymore. The tongues came into the forefront and lashed at each other like the Greeks and Trojans had attacked each other.
Penelope now copied his son’s actions and held his face with both her hands, tightly. The kiss went on wildly as no one gave each other any time to let in some air or any second thoughts that would seep in with it. Penelope’s hand moved to the back of his head, pulling his hair with all her might while the other moved down slowly, from the neck to his chest. There, she crumpled the portion of Telemachus’ chiton with the urge to destroy something that was within her for twenty years. Telemachus could feel his mother’s hands on his nipple, trying to feel them through his dress.
This sent a chill through his spine and he broke the undying kiss. He then moved on top of her with one leg on each side and began kissing her neck frantically.
Penelope took time to breathe in some air and then said aloud, “Oh my love, this feels so good!” Her hand now moved from the chest to his back, rubbing him, signalling him to go on; permitting him to make love to her. “It’s been a lifetime! I so love this feeling son!”
Telemachus muttered between kissing her neck, “I’ll love you mother. I won’t let you be alone. I’ll make you happy, mother!”
He then moved his hand to her shoulders and held the drapes of her white linen chiton. He slowly started sliding them down on her arms, baring her shoulders. He moved his hands to her neck and slowly felt it and moved down to her shoulders, repeating the action with his mouth. Penelope moaned loudly. She now spread out her legs and locked them above her son’s buttocks. There was no way of him going anywhere now. He had chained him in her thirst… a thirst which had been unquenched for two decades.
From the shoulders, Telemachus moved his hands to her mother’s breasts… breasts which had fed him in his childhood and made him the man he was now. He cupped them tenderly at first but slowly gathered desperation. He wanted to feel as much of it as he could in as little time as possible. His fingers then felt her nipples from the outside of the dress, now completely hard and erect. He ached and so did she. They both wished to get rid of the linen fabrics separating them and feel each other’s raw flesh, which had been heated up on a barbecue.
Telemachus hurriedly slid the drapes of her mother’s chiton as she assisted him by removing her hands from it. He then untied the zoster, the belt that she was wearing below her bosom that held the dress together. Before he could uncover her breasts by sliding the chiton further down, Penelope caught Telemachus’ face with her hands which moved inwards like a spanner tightening itself on to his face. She then looked him in the eye, her chestnut eyes overflowing with love and said in a hushed voice, “This feels so right. Not a thing about it feels wrong!”
“It does feel right… because it is the right thing to do!” Telemachus’ voice was equally calm.
Penelope closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly as Telemachus proceeded to take the chiton off her breasts. He then continued staring at them for a minute. They were heavy at the bottom with large nipples raised tall. After savouring them with his eyes, he cupped his hands around the flesh of the breasts, careful not to touch the nipples. The urge to be felt and sensed made the nipples rise above even further. Penelope moaned. Her son was now teasing the part of her which had fed him while growing up. It was so wicked.
Her arms now resting above her head, she screamed violently, “Ohhhh Fuck! Lick them, son! Lick them for me…” Her voice gradually subsided.
Telemachus smiled from one corner of his mouth, still cupping her breasts and looking at his mother’s desperate reaction, “If you say so…”
He bent and let his tongue out like the snake monster Echidna hissing. His licked one of the nipples lightly and then did the same with the other nipple. Steadily, he licked the nipples with increasing ferocity, all the while pinching the other nipple with his fingers.
Penelope moaned loudly, loud enough to let the noise go out of her room. Two decades since her moan travelled outside her chamber. She did masturbate in the initial years after Odysseus was gone. But after four years, the self-stimulation faded away with Penelope slowly turning into a celibate. Today her son had brought back the passion and feeling of a bygone era.
Telemachus then squeezed both the boobs from the outer sides, pressing them against each other. This brought the nipples very close to each other, turning two eyes into one of a Cyclops. He then opened his mouth wide enough to engulf both the nipples in them at once.
“Ohh, my son! You are the best! This is so fucking beautiful!” Penelope’s moans were getting louder.
Telemachus continued waging a war with his tongue against the two uptight nipples like his father often took down two soldiers at once with one slash of his sword at the war. He squeezed the breasts hard, hoping to gouge out a drop of milk that he had consumed when his father left his mother alone to look out for herself and him. He went on like this, feeling his mother breasts and sucking on to the nipples. He went on without a sense of time. He hoped to satiate her… satiate her for two decades and make up for the two that she had lost.
He did succeed to an extent as Penelope now lifted his head off her nipples and again looked at him. Her eyes had a shine… the shine of innocence. The innocence a teenage girl has when she trusts her lover by offering him her virginity. Penelope had given Telemachus her virile feelings along with her virtue. She trusted him and she trusted this act of making love… it wouldn’t unchaste her. Telemachus, on his part, had never seen such beautiful eyes. He looked for these eyes in every lover he had had, but never found them.
“I love you!” Penelope said.
“I love you too.”
Telemachus now shifted backwards, unchaining himself from the legs of his mother which had locked him. He then got down on the bed and sat on his knees. His fingers then touched her feet. He moved his fingers on her feet like pulling the strings of a kithara, the predecessor of the guitar.
Penelope let out a chuckle, feeling a little ticklish. He kissed her feet softly. This made her whimper. He kept kissing her feet while his hands felt her calves. The nerves on her calves gushed with blood as Penelope felt Zeus striking his thunderbolt all over her body.
Telemachus kept moving upwards, all the while kissing and feeling his mother’s toned legs softly. He held the ankle-length chiton of her and kept it sliding above. Penelope moved her hands from above her head to her waist. Her fingers made the charade of tickling someone from afar. They longed to get a feel of Telemachus body… any part of the body would do. They just needed to feel his cells, which were kissing her legs.
Penelope’s legs involuntarily yet slowly started spreading themselves as Telemachus moved above the knees. His mother’s thighs were heavy, full of meat. He gently bit the inner portion of her thighs. He continued kissing the thighs all around with cumulative ferocity. Penelope now bent her knees and lay her feet on the bed. The chiton now just lay around her waist, uncovered from the top as well as the bottom, making a thin ring-like structure.
Before moving further up, Telemachus stopped kissing her. He looked above. There it was. The cave which brought him into this world. The place where his father had entered and then left her mother high and dry. He looked at it with mixed feelings… of theophany and envy. Yet he longed for more. It wasn’t enough just to have a look. He wanted to feel the point of his origin. Knowing the process of creation of the universe never arose as much awe in him as staring at her mother’s vagina did. That was it, the singularity of his existence.
After much time, Telemachus leapt. He leapt with his mouth wide open and tongue lashed out like a warrior jumping mid-air with both his hands lifting the sword high for a final strike on the enemy.
His tongue felt her clitoris. There was no gentleness here. It was raw passion… ache… anguish… and longing to explore. To explore each other’s bodies and explore oneself from within.
He licked his mother’s clitoris fervently while his middle finger slid into her vagina, rubbing the top portion inside her. Twenty years of celibacy had virtually regrown Penelope’s hymen. She experienced the feeling like she did when Odysseus first penetrated her. The feeling of losing one’s virginity.
“Fuck you Pothos!” Penelope screamed. All the feelings of longing and yearning that she carried for twenty years now slowly disappeared. Pothos, the god of unrequited sex, had reigned supreme over her for so long. She was not having any of him from now on.
It was like a traveller walking for days in a desert finally getting a glimpse of the sea from afar.
Penelope had by now moved both her hands on the back of her son’s head. She tried pushing it in, trying to bury his son’s face into the same pot it emerged from. While Telemachus’ one hand was playing with her vagina, the other one moved above his head to feel his mother’s breasts. He pinched her nipples and felt the flesh of her warm mammary glands.
Telemachus now had two of his finger inside the vagina, going deep, spreading it wide and scratching the upper part of her inside. He kept doing this at a frantic pace. He went on… there was no way to figure out for how long. Was it a minute? Or for an hour? Penelope continued with her groans so loud that it brought Echo down from his abode of Mount Cithaeron.
And then she let out a final wail… a way to signal that she had come. Two decades worth of desire, hunger and come… it had come to this. Her body vibrated with a thousand thunderbolts of Zeus.
Telemachus could feel it. He realised he had finally managed it. He had made his mother come. He had made her come to accept the fact that there was life beyond his father. She won’t have to wait for him for an eternity. Not anymore. He slowly took out his fingers from her vagina and his hands from her breasts. He rose from the ground and sat on the bed.
Penelope continued laying on the bed and gasping for breath. The two looked at each other with feelings of love, affection, sexual desire and trust reeking out their eyes.
After catching some air, Penelope sprung from her position. She sat on her knees and removed the chiton, which hung near her waist. She was now completely naked. She went on to untie her son’s zoster. All this was done in complete haste. She impetuously removed his chiton from the top of his head. Both of them sat for a while and gazed at each other’s nude bodies from a distance.
Without breaking the eye-lock, Penelope’s hand slowly moved towards her son’s erect penis. She held it in her hands. She had never thought that she would have to hold someone other than her husband’s penis. Her son’s penis was thicker than her husband although the same size as him. She wasn’t sure. She did not even remember how long was Odysseus’ manhood. It was all a part of some other lifetime, not this one for sure.
Telemachus’s manhood was throbbing with blood. So much blood that a slash and the Ionian sea around Ithaca would be in red with it. She started stroking it, gently, careful not break her gaze from her son.
The two then moved close and kissed each other, wildly. Penelope had one hand stroking his penis while the other across his back. Telemachus held his mother’s hair with one hand while the other felt her breasts and nipples. The two stayed like this for sometime before Penelope broke the kiss and the embrace. She then slowly shifted her gaze to her son’s manhood. It was aching. She moved her face to his penis, opening her mouth gradually as she did.
There it was. She engulfed her lips all around the tip of his penis before taking it in. It went in deep. Was it touching her throat? She couldn’t tell but she was certainly choking herself with her son’s penis in her mouth. She now lay flat on her stomach while sucking his penis as Telemachus enjoyed a view of his mother’s behind. Her butt was perfectly round and full. As he moved his hands on the derriere, he realised it was quite firm. He kept feeling her buttocks with both his hands as she continued devouring his penis.
As his obsession with his mother’s butt continued, he grew agitated. Telemachus then bent and moved towards Penelope’s buttocks. His body was flexible enough to make sure that his penis did not slide away from her mouth.
Telemachus then kissed her butt. He kissed it like he had kissed her lips. He spanked it. It wasn’t hard but it made Penelope take out the penis from her mouth and let out a laugh. She was enjoying this. She couldn’t remember the last time she had fun. All her life was always for others. The time she was having now, was totally for herself… unadulterated, innocent and necessary.
Telemachus continued spanking and kissing his mother’s buttocks. He then went on to hold a portion of the butt between his teeth. He remained in this position while his lips sucked out the blood from his mother’s buns. After some time he let it go with a mark left on it. His love bite shaped in the figure of his mouth.
Penelope let his penis go from her mouth and turn her head towards her bottom. She could see the mark her son had left on her butt cheeks. She looked at him with adoration and smiled warmly.
Telemachus now held Penelope by her shoulders and slowly lay her down on the bed. He spread her legs wide open and stood on his knees between them. His penis now stood tall and erect while Penelope was still as wet as the Aegean.
He held Penelope’s face between his hands as she imitated him.
Telemachus said in a serene voice, “I’ll never again let you be sad and lonely mother. I am always there for you. Trust me.”
“I trust you. I love you, my child,” she said in a subdued tone.
“I love you too, mother.”
With the last word, Telemachus entered Penelope. His throbbing penis with a rising mercury level penetrated her vagina, which was wet and welcoming. Telemachus was surprised with the tightness of his mother’s vagina. He went in slowly, thrusting her. They kissed each other, waging a tongue fight.
The thrusts gathered pace gradually as Telemachus broke the kiss and kissed Penelope all over the face, from the forehead to her cheeks. She closed her eyes and he kissed her smoky eyes too. He kissed the tip of her nose, the portion between her lips and nose, her chin, her neck and then slowly moved to her ears. He hissed his tongue out in her ears all the while thrusting his penis in her vagina.
That was it. Anteros, the god requited love finally had his homecoming after twenty years. The longing, the yearning, the ache, the pain, the sorrow, the thirst, the hunger, the passion, the craving and the pining of two decades was quenched as Penelope’s son kept thrusting his penis inside her.
She wailed, she cried, her screams louder than the collective war cry of the battalion of Greeks who had fought the Trojans. As her moans echoed to the world above, Aphrodite, Priapus and Erotes tore up the roof of Penelope’s chamber to watch a mother and son make love. A love which wasn’t unchaste. A love which was pure in its emotion. The gods knew this and hence the act did not contaminate Penelope or Telemachus. She continued being a loyal and virtuous wife while he remained a doting son.
As the gods summoned above, Telemachus went berserk and thrusted his mother at a frenzied pace, faster than Hermes.
After a timeless throbbing and thrusting, Penelope again let out a final wail… a cry of her coming. With that came Telemachus, letting out all his testosterone inside and flooding the vagina of his mother like the Ogyges.
He then took his penis out and lay beside Penelope. The two looked at each other and kissed gently. Penelope then lay her head on her son’s chest and hugged him. Telemachus lay his hands on the back of her head.
“I love you, mother.”
“I love you too, son.”