Satyrs Don't Share
Part One

Melas ran in the meadow, its grass cut short by the sheep that grazed here frequently, kept it from being anything but a happy, pastoral moment. The spring was well on, with the flowers dancing in the sweet zephyrs that danced among them, small dust-devils cavorting among them here and there, causing the leaves and the occasional butterfly to be caught up in their frivolity. The sun rode across the azure sky in serene beauty, only a small cloud joining it now and then as the god Apollo drove his chariot of light blazing across the sky among them. Oh, what a happy day, what a glorious, beautiful day!

He caught sight of a young stag in some bushes near the edge of the sacred grove that abutted the meadow. Anybody knew you didn't trespass into the sacred grove without explicit permission of the priests who divined the god's pleasure beforehand, but shucks, he wasn't going to go far in, he just wanted to see if the stag would be tame enough to let him pet it a moment. Some stags were indeed that gentle, living their lives in the grove, they were unhunted and unmolested by men, and had no fear of the white-clothed, two-legged denizens that lived in all those odd box-shaped hives not far from their blessed, shady tree-dappled territory.

The stag saw him and moved away, not running, but going beyond his easy reach. Melas left the meadow and went under the trees, and as he did, there was sort of sighing sound from the wind and the leaves of the trees. You don't belong here, they warned him. You have come too far.

"Only for a moment!" he told it and the trees sighed again. He moved again after the stag, which moved frustratingly slow, always near by but never close enough to let him touch it, always just out of reach, he wanted only to give it one little pet....

He kept on until the light of the meadow was only a small oval in the near distance when he first heard it. The pipes.

Happy, serene, pipes being played by one who knew it and played it intimately. He felt the melody move through his veins and stir him in a way he'd never experienced before, it was like his tummy was stirred and his little prick felt stiff and jerked as if it were alive as a separate, small animal lived under his tunic.

"Hold still, by the Goddess!" he called as the stag suddenly started at no sound Melas heard, and raced away. "I wasn't going to hurt you!"

The bushes to his right stirred and he looked at it to see a large...man coming out of the bushes. Only this was no man he'd ever seen before! Larger than any man he'd ever seen, some seven and a half feet tall, he was powerfully muscles and wore only an odd helmet on his head, with two long, recurved horns that made large "S" shapes out to either side. His ears, too, were different, with sharp points instead of rounded at the top, his eyes were larger than a man's and glowed a yellowish shine that didn't seem to depend up on the sunlight to glow. The man moved and more of him was revealed, and Melas saw that the man had a lower body with legs that were not at all human, but just below the hips they became the legs of a goat, with hooves that were nothing at all like feet. Between these legs (the man wore no clothing at all) hung a large, fat penis that dangling and swung like an oblong sack strapped between those goat-legs, and he carried in one hand the pipes that Melas had heard.

"You're a satyr!" Melas breathed as he understood his visitor.

"I am, and my name is Kimos. I protect this grove for the dryads of these trees so that no woodcutter of men comes along and injures them and the nymph of the spring in the center of this grove, all of them are under my protection. You have trespassed here, young man."

"I am Melas." Melas said. "I didn't mean to trespass, I just saw the stag and thought it would be nice to pet him. I'm sorry."

Kimos looked down at the child and his face softened. "Well, if that is all you wish." He lifted the pipes to his lips and blew on it, and the stag reappeared and walked docilely over. To Melas' delight, he was able to reach out and stroke the stag's beautiful tan-toned coat and feel the soft, warm fur in his fingers.

"That is enough." Kimos said after a moment and he blew a single note, the stag shook its head and started, darted away with swift, bright hops that let it clear the underbrush as if it did not exist and was gone in a flash.

"Thank you, sir and I shall go now with thanks." Melas remembered his manners.

"Stay a moment and talk with me, young one." Kimos said. "Surely you can repay your debt of gratitude by a moment of your company, can you not, and it is lonely here at times."

Melas saw no reason not to do so, and he followed the satyr a short distance deeper into the grove and found himself in a small clearing which held a cupola with a bench and an altar on it that held a small offering of fruits and vegetables. "Here is my home." the satyr told him. "Are you hungry?"

"No, thank you." Melas said honestly.

"Some wine, then?" the satyr said.

"Thank you, no." Melas had wine now and then, it was a part of his main meal, but not by itself like it, and his father would not approve. "Some water, if you have it."

The satyr did and poured him a goblet and then wine for himself and quaffed it lustily as Melas sipped his water. "Tell me about the men of the lands about us." he said. "Yourself, who is in your family?"

"Only my father and myself." Melas explained. Prompted by more questions, he told of his family and his life and his neighbors, all the while, the satyr drew closer and closer to him, until soon he was sitting on the bench beside the lad and his arm had done around Melas' shoulders. He stopped talking when Kimos' other hand landed on his upper thigh and slid up under his tunic and was balked by Melas' underwrap, a long length of cloth that he had wrapped into a ward for his private parts.

"What is this?" Kimos said in some surprise. "What have you wrapped around yourself here?"

Melas had to laugh at the god's shock. "It's my underwear. Don't you wear underwear?"

"Never." Kimos said emphatically. "One's manhood must be allowed to breathe free and proud as the gods intended it should. You must take this off at once. It is unseemly to wear such in my temple."

Calling this cupola a temple was a stretch, but Melas didn't argue, he let the satyr pull the wrap away from his body and toss it to one side. It was only some old scrap of cloth, he could fetch it or replace it easy enough.

"That is better." Kimos said in some satisfaction and his hand returned and Melas gasped as his little boy-tool was gripped by the fingers. The nails were like short talons, rounded and sharp-pointed, but they avoided touching his skin and only the soft pads beneath gripped his young maleness. "You see how it's coming to life now, how it pulses and breathes, now that it is free?"

The husky breath of the satyr was in Melas' nostrils and he found the scent the same as if he had quaffed the wine offered him earlier. There was a powerful, rich smell that was like his father exuded when he labored hard in the fields and was covered in sweat, only this was both more powerful and less raunchy, it spoke of male virility and power in its purest, most indomitable form.

"That's a nice one." Kimos said as he brought Melas' young dong to full height. "It likes me petting it, doesn't it? Mine likes it when someone pets it as well. You petted the stag, would you like to pet mine?"

"I would." Melas agreed readily for that scent was getting to him, like he wanted to touch this big, powerful body all over. His eager hands reached out and ran his hands over the powerful shoulders, across the strong line of the jaw which only brought a grin from the satyr who didn't impede him at all. The boy was free to, and did, stroke his hands over every articulation of the strong muscles of the body, which rippled under his hands and more of that scent entered the boy's nostrils. As he reached down and caught hold at last of Kimos' thick, throbbing cock, Kimos caught the tunic Melas was wearing and released the ties it held at the shoulders. This turned the tunic into a tube of fabric from Melas' upper torso to knees, and Kimos could and did pull the tunic down and off the boy's body legs without the hands and arms being encumbered or restricted in any way.

Nude, he lifted the boy and put him in his lap, the thick dong poking up between the lad's legs and he giggled and caught, pulling and stroking the fat pud while the satyr kissed the boy's soft lips and mouthed along the tender flesh of the neck. His teeth were pointed as well as he nipped the boy's shoulder and the boy gasped, and shuddered for the bites weren't hard enough to pierce the flesh though the points gave them an intense nexus of pain that flowed and mixed into the boy's pleasure to turn it into the elements of newfound lust.

The satyr's tool was gushing precome and hot in the boy's hand and as the satyr stroked the lad, the passion the rutting goat-man was feeling reached its peak and he blasted his hot load upwards and all over the boy sitting in his lap, as he snorted in his need like a goat, "WHF-WHF-WHF-WHF-WHF!"

Melas gasped as he felt the heat of the jetting juices that splashed on and over his body and onto his own little manhood.

"Ooh, oh, oh!" Melas gasped as the orgasm released the panting satyr. "What is all this? It's white and it's warm and it's sticky."

"It is the essence of life itself, the glory of the goat, the nectar of the gods." Kimos told him, still breathing hard. "Taste it, young lad, and taste the flavor that is the glory of the very stars in the sky." Kimos used one broad hairy-topped finger to lift off and ferry one of the globs of his jizz towards the boy's young, soft lips.

Melas opened his mouth and the satyr pushed the come-laden fingertrip into the boy's mouth and laid the blob on the boy's tongue. "Now taste it well, lad, taste it and believe."

Melas did. "It's strong, isn't it?"

"Very strong, powerful, masculine." Kimos agreed. "Do you like it?"

"It's nice." Melas agreed.

"Have more." Kimos fed the lad the various clumps of spunk from the boy's body until he had pulled most of it off. Then he lifted the lad's body from his body and put the boy on his knees between his powerful goat-man legs. "Now, there's a good load of it resting on my tip, why don't you take that off yourself?"

"All right." Melas reached his face down and Kimos hissed as the boy's lips touched his glans and the warm mouth closed on his cockhead, and the tongue laved it as the lad licked the knob clean of the thick spooge it bore. "Do you like that?" he panted as the boy's warm lips stirred his body to renewed sexual vigor.

"Tastes good." Melas said. "I like how it tastes, a whole lot!"

"You should try sucking a load out of it fresh from my tool." Kimos suggested lustily, his breath husky in his throat. "Do you know how to suck a man's rod?"

"Nu-uh." Melas said. "I've never done this with anybody. Though my friend Pelanion has done it with men a few times, so I know what you mean. But I don't know how to do it."

"Then let me demonstrate on you first." Kimos said. He laid the boy on the bench and stood over the boy's head, his dong dangling down where the boy could take it when he felt ready. He bent over and his thick male mouth closed upon the boy's young dong. He began by licking the boy's shaft clean of the remnants of his own spooge that had dripped there and this was enough to give the lad a throbbing erection. His arms then lifted the young legs upwards to expose the small anus and he sent his tongue to probe that small sphincter, teasing the soft flesh and taunting it to open up to his probing tonguetip and as it did, he slid it inwards to force the opening to widen for him. When it was relaxed enough, he replaced the tongue with his finger, probing into the boy's bowels, while his mouth moved to the lad's joy-tool. When Kimos began to move his lips up and down over the small shaft, Melas crooned in his joy. Kimos used his thick fingers to stretch the boy's anus even further. In all this, Kimos moved with quick efficiency, knowing that youth is impudent and abrupt in their pleasures and sure enough, less than a minute's ministrations of his lips upon the lad's love-rod and fingering of the sensitive tissues of the anus were enough to cause the young Melas to shudder and shake in his boyish climax while his tool jerked as if it would have rocketed enough ejaculate to blanket the cupola had it been in its ability to do so.

"And that's how you do it." Kimos said in satisfaction as he rose erect and his straightened body placed his dong right over the boy's mouth, the head dangling only an inch or so away from those tender young lips. "Now if you are ready, perhaps you would be so kind as to delight me in the same way?"

They moved so that Melas was kneeling before the horny satyr who was sitting on the bench with his goat-legs splayed wide, his cloven hooves beside the boy's own feet. The boy pushed himself between the thick muscled thighs and rested his arms on the tops of the upper legs and with one hand holding the thick dong in place, he took the massive glans into his mouth and moved upon the satyr's manhood with a youthful exuberation that age can only match with hard-won experience in terms of how it powers and guides the body in how to please another. Melas may have lacked some of the niceties of sucking a dong, but his mouth was moist and his lips were agile and his tongue was active and Kimos snorted in his goatish lust as his knob was plied by the hungry lad kneeling before him.

It was as if all of nature was joining in that glory. The birds were chirping delightedly all around, the winds were causing the leaves to sing their soft murmuring song of spring's vitality, the skies and sun glowed upon the muscled Kimos who groaned in his ecstasy as his dong was milked by the young Melas, soft pink inside the russet brown of the goat-man's body, soft pliant lines of youth between the powerful mounds of hard male muscle adorning Kimos' body.

"Hoof! Hoof! Hoof!" huffed Kimos as his pleasure mounted. "Good young Melas, the cream of Greek boyhood, the epitome of young blessings, take my seed and use it to grow into powerful manhood, know that with this seed you and I will become one and I will keep you safe and with me all the days of your life!"

Melas was too busy to hear his words for as Kimos completed this, he gave out a loud keening sound of raw animal rut and the powerful hands held the boy firmly in place as he keened anew, even louder and his cock burst forth with a heavy explosion of hot spunk that shot directly into the boy's young mouth. Melas was filled with the spooge and he swallowed to have more gush in, and he drank deeply and felt again with the smell and the taste of this creamy essence of satyr lust that he was drinking something very like, but more powerful than, the wine his father poured carefully for him (a dram or two only) every evening, for a man must learn to drink and become its master, not let it master him.

Done with his climax, his energy expended, Kimos held the boy still with his cock impaling the lad's mouth and upper throat, while he snorted in his post-orgasmic lust and his breaths forced his body to gasp hard, then as they eased, he let the boy go and sank back onto his hands on the bench as Melas sank back to rest his buttocks on his heels still kneeling before the lust-wracked goat-man.

But the lust of a satyr cannot be abated by a single ejaculation such as this, he was soon restored to full rut and he groaned and reached down for the boy who watched him with wide eyes as he was again placed on the bench with the satyr standing over him, then time between his splayed-out legs, and Kimos' cock, still slick with the boy's saliva from the oral sex, was hard and jerking as he aimed it for the boy's young sphincter.

"What are you doing?" Melas gasped and then the thick glans touched his anus and he could not be mistaken as to what was to come. "No, please, I'm not ready for this, I haven't... Oh, oh, oh-oh-ohhhh!"

Kimos drove his cock into the boy's flesh lasciviously, viciously even, his need the only consideration he gave. The boy moaned as his tender anal flesh was stretched and ripped in places by the huge prong that was slammed into his young body too fast to let him adjust. In no time, the huge length was fully imbedded within him, and he moaned, sobbed in his pain.

"Stop, please, it hurts, stop!"

"Impudent boy, it always hurts the first time." snorted Kimos. "Hold steady and it will cease to both you further, in fact, you will find you enjoy it tremendously! Now keep quiet and let me fuck your sweet boyish ass!"

"That is not what men do with a boy!" sobbed Melas.

"What do you mean?"

"A man will put his tool between a boy's legs at times for his pleasure." Melas informed the satyr. "But to put it inside the boy's body like this, no, never, it is never done!"

"It is done by me, for you belong to me now and will forever more." Kimos said. "Now I shall enjoy my new acquisition."

He began to thrust at the boy's ass, not roughly but sending his tool deep and moving too fast for the boy's comfort. Small amounts of blood dappled the hard rod as he pumped it in and out of the boy's buttocks, and more dripped onto the bench beneath him, but the boy's sobs ceased and became only a sort of anguished sighing noise.

Kimos persevered, though this third climax of his took him quite some time. He changed his positions, lifting the boy up into the air and holding him in his arms with the boy's legs around his waist while he bounced the lad up and down on his cock, he turned the boy so he could kneel on the bench while he stood behind and pumped the tender ass with his hands holding the lad in place.

Melas did indeed adjust to the impacts, and his body found the pleasure as his young prostate was stroked by the satyr's lusty thrusts and he began to moan along with the grunting, snorting satyr as each plunge into the boy's body sent both boy and satyr into throes of pleasure.

Kimos was back to face-to-face with the boy lying on the bench as his orgasm crept through his body on soft cat-feet. "Coming again, lad, going to pump this one straight up your ass, boy, or would you like me to cream it all over you instead?"

"I don't...I don't know." Melas gasped. "As you wish."

"I wish to decorate you with my seed." Kimos grunted. "And I shall! AHHH-HAHH-HAHH, SNUH-SNUH-SNUH-SNUH! SNUH-HUH-UHHH-HUFFFF!"

The lust-ridden satyr pulled his hard cock in mid-climax out of the boy's ass and aimed it with one shaking hand at the prostrate body beneath him and he keened as he ejaculated, his hot seed pumping out to splatter the boy from his neck to his upper thighs in generous measure. As the hot goo splashed the boy, he gasped, closed his eyes and his own boyish climax shook his young body so that he shivered as he was indeed decorated from neck to knees with huge droplets of white quivering, creamy sperm.

"There we go, the beautiful boyish sacrifice to my lust has been accepted and enjoyed." Kimos intoned. "He shall dwell with me all the days of his life and I shall relish him and enjoy his body five or six times a day, so that the entire grove will shake with our cries of joy."

"What did you say?" Melas asked him in some concern, he had understood the satyr this time!

"I said that you are staying here from now on, I have chosen you and you are mine." Kimos said. "Why else would I bring you to this my temple, and love you here. It is the right place for a god to accept sacrifice."

"I'm not...I can't stay here! I have to get back to my daddy!" Melas cried out.

He slid upwards to get off the bench and the satyr stumbled in his turn to get unstraddle of the lower bench, which put his dong in an exposed position, one the Fates took unwitting advantage of to change young Melas' destiny. One swift kick of the boy's right leg as he rose from the bench and the foot slammed the tender testicles of the huge man-beast; Kimos gasped and groaned in his pain and staggered to sit on the bench, clutching his bruised jewels of manhood.

As the satyr groaned in his pain, the boy snatched up his tunic and raced from the grove. He had the further luck to remember the way he had come, and before the satyr could recover from the kick to his genitalia, Melas was away from the sacred grove and in search of his father for the day was nearly done, the sun about to land in the hills beyond the meadows.

Kimos followed him as far as the edge of the sacred grove. He could not see the running boy, but he found and knew the boy's scent and his animal nose could follow that scent anywhere it took him.

"I said that I had chosen you, and I have." he said in a malevolent tone. "And by all the gods and demons that rule this land, I swear that I shall have young Melas for my own and nothing the gods can do will stop me from my quest!"

And the winds, hearing these words, shook and the leaves of the trees shivered in fear at what the night would bring for the young child of Greece.

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