Cupid and Psyche |Lesbian Version|

Chapter 12: The Desertion

Psyche was now alone with her thoughts. The solitude tossed in her grief like the waves of the sea. She lost her head and began to banish all her spouse's warnings and her own promises. After all, her sisters had made some solid stabs. It was true that she had never seen her lover's face, and she had no knowledge whatsoever of what her companion was. She merely heard the voice and was constantly warned against seeing what the owner of it looks like, and threatened with great disaster if she showed curiosity. What if her sisters' warning was genuine?

But the only way to know it was to see. And as dusk began to fill the sky, Psyche got up and poured the oil into a well-trimmed wick. Then she concealed it beneath the cover of an enclosing jar. Though her plan was formed and her determination fixed, she still faltered in the uncertainty of purpose. Her heart was torn between many impulses of her unhappy plight.

Then the grief-stricken maiden waited for her love to enter the chamber and climb as usual into the bed with her.

Night fell, and Cupid arrived with high hopes in her breasts. She had been waiting to join her passion with Psyche, and with their combined love, they would create something special and beautiful together.

The goddess found her wife lying on the bed and slipped under the cover beside her, enveloping her from behind.

"Why tonight your back is turned to me?" the goddess whispered. "Did you not have a pleasant time with your sisters?"

Psyche felt her stomach churn with nervousness. Every beat of her heart almost seemed to explode.

"We did have a lovely time, my love," she lied, but her voice quivered.

"Then why am I the only one who wishes to be held?" Cupid asked in concern. "Are you ill, Psyche dear?"

The princess finally turned around. She felt a pair of hands, possessive and strong, wound around her body. And a familiar longing entered her heart again. She did want to be filled with love, and a part of her already questioned her own doubts.

"You took too long to come home," the maiden spoke in a pretend sulky voice. "I have missed you terribly."

"O sweet maiden, I apologize for the wait," Cupid said. "My work had delayed me. It is almost spring, and there are many people to see."

"Many people to see?"

"Yes, love," the goddess said. "They need me. But I shall grant you the most of pleasure and even better our first creation together."

The mortal girl, though enfeebled in both body and mind, was aroused by the notion. Her maternal desire overcame her, and she moved to Cupid with outstretched arms, embracing her beloved. The goddess's soft mane felt silk in her hands.

"Is it true?" Psyche asked. "Then swear it by these locks of yours which flowed all over your shoulders like silken water, by your cheeks as soft and smooth as my own, by your breasts which emit hidden heat."

"I swear it," Cupid said with a kiss on her forehead. Psyche still marveled at how all this could be someone beastly.

It was all the more reason for her to find the truth. Psyche parted her legs and lured her bed companion to come closer. Cupid then crawled over her wife's perfect form and devoured her yielding breasts. As their lips left trails of fire over each other skin, the goddess sought out the most secret caverns and made Psyche gulp for air.

The maiden arched her back with rising desire. She prayed that the gentle hand would find her needs soon. It caused her wet slickness to weep through her silken folds profusely. Overpowered by the most lascivious of urges, Psyche pressed her center against her lover and pursed her lips for a thirsty kiss.