A Greek Goddess's Descent into Bliss

Sofronia the statuesque Greek goddess my brother married is totally wasted on the dumb drops I cooked up. Look at her sprawled out across that huge king sized bed. Her deep black eyes glazed over in bliss. While one slender-fingered hand runs through her huge, untrimmed bush of pubic hair. Her other hand is teasing her large nipples back to a stiff aroused state. We both knew she really needed the dumb drops to get rid of that bug stuck up her nicely rounded ass.

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My brother and I were fairly close. While we were kids, when we were at college, and into adulthood we looked out for each other. He's five years older than me, a professor of ancient history. It was on one of his digs in Greece that he dug up Sofronia, and her daughter. He told me the story of their courting in Greece, she was warm, compassionate, engaging, a real ‘down to earth’ woman. She was a sensuous and adventurous lover. After they married, she and her daughter were safely established here in America. That’s when ‘the goddess’ emerged. She became aristocratic, distant, and aloof. The love life went completely cold. Things with his wife were so bad that he’s chosen to spend most of his time back in Greece digging away. The last time I saw him, and them, was Christmas last year.

I miss my brother and would really like him to feel comfortable in his nice stately home and having him around more often. So it’s up to me to lend a helping hand to make him home life more satisfying. And I know just the thing to help.

There’s an old Greek proverb that say that; ‘Gifts can persuade even the gods,’ or in this case goddesses I thought. So, giving that matter some serious thought, and collecting a few items from some specialty shops, I started wrapping presents. Among the items that wouldn’t need wrapping where a couple of decorative gift boxes of candy. A fresh batch of dumb drops, irresistibly packed, the gift was ready for the goddess.

She was half in and half out of a slimming white silk dress which contracted nicely with her olive oil skin tone. The top part only came halfway up her generous silicon breasts, and while the bottom reached to the floor the slit up the side made sure I knew that the black hose she was wearing were thigh-high control tops, what lay above them, covering her private grotto was only a matter if time, and dumb drops. I knew she had a bit of a sweet tooth, so this was going to be easy. My sister in-law would be pretty loose and easy very soon.

“Sofronia, how good of you to receive me,” I said arriving at the large door at

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