It was odd, damned odd, and very wrong, Sara thought. She could lose everything if she were caught, and she couldn’t even say why she was doing it. She’d found a small statuette near the dig site in Turkey, and she had slipped it into her pocket and not reported the find. If she had, it would have been researched, identified, and likely placed on display in a museum. It was a lovely piece, appeared undamaged by weathering or time or any of the hundreds of other reasons that had cracked, shattered or damaged most of everything else they’d unearthed. She knew she was breaking laws, committing ethics violations, and just plain doing the wrong thing. It wasn’t like she wanted or needed it, or could do anything with it other than hide it. If it ever came to light, she would be charged and jailed, her reputation destroyed, her name blacklisted, and the piece itself would be returned to the Turkish Cultural Ministry. Even two or three generations or more down the line, it would be seized and returned to the Turkish government, even if she were dead and could no longer be prosecuted. Why the hell was she doing this?

She came up to the customs officer, who demanded she open her bags for a search. Standard procedure. They’d find it, of course. She wished she had a defense for stealing an archaeological artwork, probably priceless, other than “I don’t know.” The customs officer touched the statuette of the as-yet unidentified mother goddess, with her exaggerated sexual attributes and beneficent stare. He shuffled through the rest of her things, ignoring it like it had been a Barbie doll or box of tampons. What the hell... ? He replaced her belongings and closed her carry-on, asking “Anything to declare?” in heavily accented English.

“Uh, no?” Sara replied.

“Very well. Next please,” he said, as if he hadn’t just caught a red-handed theft of a priceless cultural artifact.

Sara took her case and moved to one of the international flight gates, expecting police to appear and arrest her at any moment. She felt that way until the plane was in the air, heading for Paris, then Atlanta, Georgia, where another customs officer would be waiting.

At the international hub of the Atlanta Hartsfield Airport, they didn’t even check her bags, although they did ask if she had anything to declare. “No ... but, we all come from the Mother,” declared Sara. The customs officer looked at her and smiled. “Blessed be,” she responded quietly, and Sara noticed a small pentagram necklace around the officer’s neck. Why did I say that... ? Why did she say that? Oh. She thinks I’m a New Agey Pagan or something like she is. Thank goddess ... um, goodness! What on Earth is wrong with me? Her passport was stamped again, and she was done and through.

She got off the underground tram at Concourse C for her connecting flight. She had been wired for sound since Turkey, and as the adrenaline faded she felt exhaustion beckon. Starbucks. I need a Starbucks. Spotting one, she moved over to the side of the corridor and then into line. She got to the front, and ordered, “The biggest latte you have. Mocha. And Caramel. No, not the syrup, the real stuff, thanks! Oh, and I think I need a shot of espresso in that, too!”

She took her drink with her to the gate, and sat. Normally, she thought to herself, I couldn’t stand this obscenely sweet milky concoction -- I prefer my coffee black. I guess it’s the worry and lack of sleep. And I could definitely use the sugar rush to fight the tiredness. Wow, this tastes better than I thought it would! It is certainly hitting the spot! Still, damn I’m tired. Oh, I want to be home!

A hot bath, a little time with the vibrator I didn’t dare bring with me, and then Alice should bring the kids back later tonight. she thought. Alice was her younger sister at 44. Sara’s kids were Jason and Jennifer, ages 17 and 16. She’d had Jason at the age of 30. Her husband Mark had died from cancer when Jason was 15, from Non-Hodgekins Lymphoma. It was aggressive and rapid, with almost no time between its discovery and his death in which to treat it. This had left a gaping hole in their lives filled with grief and frustration and even anger, but had not drained their bank accounts and investments by much, for which Sara felt terribly guilty for being grateful for.

The “kids” were actually old enough to take care of themselves, but Sara wanted Alice to keep them in case anything unfortunate happened. She’d had to explain this very carefully to the kids, who were not a little bit put-out at being “baby-sat”. She snorted. Now was the time in their lives when they needed adult supervision! Neither of them needed to be on one of the next Teen Mom shows, and she suspected having an extended period of time in which to “have friends over” unsupervised would end up with exactly that. Although teenage girls are at their most fertile, with the best chances of having healthy babies, and teenage males are at their most virile. The thought scampered through her brain then faded as her alarmed sense of inappropriateness tried to chase it down to examine it. What ... I wonder where that thought went. I wonder what it was? Far too tired! Next thing I know I’ll be talking to myself!

She checked the time, then her boarding pass. Just enough time to get another one of those lovely lattes! She got up to go back and order another, feeling her knees complain as she did so. God, I’m getting old! she thought to herself. Then another thought struck her, ‘Old’ is a state of mind! I’m nowhere near as old as that statuette! And a virile lover with the proper respect to take the proper amount of time in making love could certainly help a body feel younger!

She blushed at the thought she’d just had. She’d had another response to that thought as well, farther down her body. She shook her head at herself as she re-entered the line for her obscenely sweet, buttery beverage with a kick. Mocha. Chocolate was good! A New World food in a new world! They sure didn’t have that when the statuette got buried! She ordered it again, and minutes later was walking back to the gate wondering why she was musing on chocolate. She’d thought of it as new, and it certainly wasn’t! It had been not just around, but incredibly popular all her life, and for centuries before that! Weird.

She sincerely wanted that hot bath, as soon as humanly possible! It was her private pleasure. She’d bought a tub with whirlpool jets with a bit of the insurance money from when Mark died, her single splurge into extravagance. The gate attendant called out boarding instructions, and Sara downed the rest of her coffee and tossed the cup in the trash. Paper cups, an amazing invention she thought. Long ago, all they had to drink out of was fired clay, back in the day! Paper, and glass, and modern ceramic, even metal were much better. Plastic was convenient, but a problem for the planet. A part of her stood to the side and wondered at her train of thought. More weirdness. She was really tired! Home, bath, orgasm, bed. Maybe she could talk Alice into keeping the kids another night? She could really use a night in her home and to herself.

They called her seat section, and she moved to the boarding line, proffering her boarding pass when asked. She rolled her carry-on into the jetbridge while pulling out her mobile phone, and talked to her sister as the passengers boarded and found their seats. Alice would be happy to keep them another night! Of course she was exhausted from all that flying! Alice had thought this call would come, and had planned for it. No, it was fine, Sara should go home and rest, and Alice was glad she was back in the US!

Sara stowed her carry-on directly above her in the overhead bin, sat down, and waited for the short flight to Chattanooga and home to take off. She’d like another latte, but no, they don’t have those on airplanes. She ordered an espresso maker online and searched for a good recipe for caramel mocha lattes until the plane taxied out and she had to turn her phone off.

She was finally home! The cool air felt good after the humid heat of Chattanooga summer, and her skin felt like she was covered in sweat and dirt, and she was certain she’d even some sand from the dig in some unfortunate places. She dropped her bags in her bedroom and walked to the bathroom, but stopped herself, and went back and opened her carry-on and pulled out the statuette. She took it with her to the bathroom and placed it on one of the corners of the tub, and opened the taps. She took off the clothes she’d been wearing the last two days with relief and gratitude, and tossed them in the empty clothes hamper. She checked the water temperature to make sure it was nice and hot, and once the tub was full enough turned on the jets. She sank into the tub with a sigh, and felt the jets swirl the dirt and days-old perspiration away.

Oh, she loved this luxury in her life. It had been worth every penny! The marvelous currents and bubbles were so relaxing and comfortable, and she turned off the taps and sank to her chin, and reveled. Nothing like this way back when’! It was amazing how even a PhD grad student returning to school after being a housewife and mother could have an indulgence that even royalty of long ago could not have had. Her bath, the air conditioner, when the best that could be had thousands of years ago was a eunuch with a big fan to move the hot air around, food free of germs and flour without critters living in it, water that wasn’t dangerous to drink, well, usually, unless one lived in Flint, Michigan. It was amazing what we all took for granted.

Sara washed her graying brown hair, and soaped up her body, making sure it was clean, cleaner than it had been in months. She did a breast self-exam on her C-cup breasts and felt no lumps, but noticed that it had made her feel a bit excited. Well, she was certainly going to take care of that!

She gazed at the statuette on the side of the tub wondering why she’d taken it. The detail work on it was astonishing, better than she’d ever seen that was this ancient. The oversized breasts were exquisitely crafted, and looked like they were full of milk, and their little nipples stood up proudly, like they were saying “Drink from me and be nourished!” The belly was pregnant and smooth, and the statuette’s sex was so delicately detailed that it was hard to imagine it surviving its time in the ground so, so, real? Unblemished? Damn, this was before so much was developed by artists to create such durable realism through history. How had the statuette’s creator achieved it? And the face! Oh, my, that expressive, expressive fine face! A face that expressed lust and pride, a goddess who nourished her people and damn-well enjoyed doing it. A face that would inspire worshipers to care for her, serve her, and celebrate the fertility of land and flock and people She provided. And they would damn well enjoy doing it, too! She wondered what those worshipers did, so long ago, in Her rites and rituals. Fertility, definitely. The statuette could not say more plainly “I am a Mother Goddess”. Were there orgies in her honor? What did they sacrifice to Her?

She realized that the jets were off, the water was cold and her fingertips deeply pruning. Had she fallen asleep? Maybe, she certainly was tired. But her body explained to her that sleep could wait until they’d had a good orgasm! It had been too long, and without her little plastic friend, her fingers, while okay, weren’t really quite stimulation enough. What she needed was a good fuck! A full-on back-scratching, howling, passionate fuck with a young stud! _Uh oh! Am I becoming a cougar at my age? Uh, well, stereotypical cougars were, come to think of it, about her age. Younger than her and they’d be a MILF. Okay, I obviously need to cum, as thinking thoughts like these clearly demonstrates!

She grabbed her towel and began to dry herself with it. She turned to the mirror, and slowed, looking at each body part as she dried it. As she focused on each body part, she noticed how miraculous it was -- the proportion and symmetry and ... beauty! of each part. She had pretty feet, nicely shaped and proportioned, and her ankles and calves were trim and neither too skinny or plump. Her hands were graceful in their movements, and surprisingly, for a mother and archaeologist, were smooth and fine, not showing how hard they’d been used throughout her life. Her arms were not just utilitarian, but extensions of her hands’ fine and smooth grace, browned by her work in the sun and well-muscled without being masculine from the heavy lifting she’d done. Her thighs were really, really nice, and would look wonderful raised and parted with someone between them! Her hips said “child-bearing” and “damn-fine ass”, she thought to herself. Her sex, her sacred place, was open and beautiful, and said “kiss me, suck me, fuck me!”

(Wait, what? She’d never thought things like this in her life!)

But her stomach, her belly, was so feminine, not smooth and flat, but smooth and curved like a woman’s should be! It had looked wonderful full of her children, too, curved in Motherhood below breasts filling with milk. They’d gotten so large when she’d been pregnant, and nursing produced the most erotic buzz in her body, and could lead to awesome orgasms! Even now, they were lovely, but they would look wonderful and “right” when filled with milk. Her nipples were hard as diamonds, and buzzing and saying “Play with me!” Her gaze, and the towel, moved up to her neck, so kissable and soft, and which could generate such sounds of passion that neighbors for miles around would know she was fucking, and a voice that could sound so buttery-smooth and erotic and commanding that cocks would harden and pussies flow just to hear it.

(Wait, wait, what the hell was she thinking? Why would she care if pussies got wet at the sound of her voice? A hard cock was one thing, but... )

A hard cock would feel wonderful sliding between her kissable incredible lips (What?!), and she took in the rest of her face. The look upon it was the look on the statuette’s, erotic, compelling, proud. She was proud of her body, She was a beautiful woman. (Uh? Well, okay, yeah.) She was Woman. She felt the towel drop, and watched her face as her fingers of one hand slid down to her very wet pussy, and the fingers of the other reached up to pinch and lightly twist a nipple. Holy cats, her pussy was wet! There were juices down to her knees! (That never happened before!) That look on her face! Her face! It’s beautiful! (She felt a slight lurch in her belly, like thinking herself beautiful was too egotistical.) That knowing, proud, lustful expression, it was such a turn-on! It was a face to fall in love with! (Was that what Mark saw in me?) A face that said “You should worship me, I deserve it and I’ll make it worth your while.” (Mmmm!) Mmmm! It’s coming. (I’m going to come!) We’re coming, we’re cumming! (We’re?! Cumming! Cumming now!) Right now! Love me! Love us! We are Goddess! We are Mother! (Mother? Mother!) World spinning, body spasming, electrical pleasure from hair to nipples and breasts to womb and pussy to toes! (Oh, fuck!)

(Fuck me fuck me fuck me!)

Fuck us! Fuck Us.

Yes, Us. We Are.

Pleasure beyond measure. Creating Life. Nurturing Life. Accepting Death as painful necessity. Plants and fields will grow. Animals and humans be fertile, creating more Life, more pleasure, more Good. Sara felt a pulse of something radiate out from Her body against the bathroom wall. She felt trees surrounding her house on Signal Mountain, extending a mile or so in every direction with Her as its Center touching plants and animals and people. And bees and butterflies and moths. It was inspiring, awe-inspiring, in fact.

[Our body is tired from travel. We should sleep.]

Sara stood erect, supporting herself against the wall, picked up the statuette then walked, naked, to her bed and lay down upon it, placing the statuette on her bedside table.

(Who are you?)

[I am Mother, The Mother. I was made for you long ago, as you were changed from Ape to become Human. We are Mother, now.]

(Made? Who made You?)

[The one who changed you, through your ... genetic codes. Knowledge/Wisdom, who was commanded by Power/Authority to create slaves for the ... Ancients, the Survivors-of-the- Tragedy. They were few, but more powerful than anything this planet had ever seen. Wisdom was also a Trickster, and while fulfilling Power’s command, made you more creative and independent than Power had wanted. Wisdom sent some of you away, beyond the Place of Arrival, the Stronghold, the Garden where much new life was created from what life was here, to nourish and serve the Ancients. When this was done, I was made to be sent with you, to help you survive and grow as Wisdom and Power and their followers struggled. We see that you have succeeded beyond expectations! This shows Wisdom’s wisdom and insight, and encourages My continuing purpose!]

(Who were Wisdom and Power?)

[They were the strongest. There were others. After the revolt, the diaspora, and the destruction of The Stronghold/Garden, many became Gods to the spreading humans. Some favored Power, some favored Wisdom. Each led Their humans as They could, and influenced them to support Power or Wisdom as they were so inclined. Power desired unquestioning obedience from the created slaves, the humans, as well as the other Ancients. Wisdom wanted more for you, loved you, and was proud of your creation. As I was made by Wisdom, I would urge you to favor that choice, but I have the Purpose I was given which I must follow.]

(Are They still alive?)

[I do not know. I have been dormant for thousands of years. It is possible that one or both or many still ... live. They were not like humans.]

(Wait a minute, I think I recognize this story! At least parts of it, anyway, as some people interpret our oldest tales. Is Wisdom Enki, and Power Enlil?)

[These names are not the names of the beings I speak of, but it is possible it is how They became known among humans, later, after the escapes from the Stronghold/Garden.]

(So ... your purpose ... is fertility? yawn)

[Yes. It is Our purpose. We encourage sex and its pleasures, and the Life and the cooperative bonds which result from it. And the nurture of Life. Sleep now. Our body needs it.]

(I ... do ... snkzzzzzz... )

[And now, to work on Our body.]

The next morning, Sara awoke feeling great. Horny, actually. She stretched languorously, and ran her hands down Her body. Her breasts had grown as She slept -- ah! the lattes and their buttery sweetness were used by the changes to Her genes in accord with Her Purpose. Her hands wound up at Her womanhood, and found it open and warm, wet and waiting. There was a delicate aroma of floral ambrosia emanating from between Her thighs, and it smelled of sexual need and promise and thrills. Her fingers dipped in, and rubbed and stroked inside, then out to Her clitoris, and waves of pleasure radiated through Her body. A hand went to one of Her full breasts, cupping it, rubbing its fullness, and tweaking a smallish but hard nipple. She felt the spray of milk from it drift down upon Her body. Outside, She felt Her neglected garden which had grown wild in Her absence, and the trees surrounding her mountain property. She sent a wave of energy to Her garden, and knew that shortly it would be flowering like mad, even if it were a bit out of season.

She felt her neighbors, about an acre away on either side. One family was made up of a woman and a man, married, and their young son of about four. The other side was a woman, twenty-two, whose mate had left her in divorce, and she was grieving and full of anger, pain, self-doubt, and self-pity. A wave of energy in either direction, and the mother and father found themselves waking to a serious case of the hornies and a bout of much-needed and satisfying pre-breakfast sex, and, on the other side, a masturbation session for the woman alone with her mirror, seeing the beauty of her body, heart, and mind. Their gardens would bloom madly as well. Sara felt all of this as Her body throbbed with pleasure and orgasm.

Sara stood and walked to Her bathroom to take care of Her body’s morning needs, and looked at Herself in the mirror. A part of Her noted the changes with astonishment, another with approval, and both parts with happiness. She was beautiful, and while She was obviously and definitely Sara, She also resembled the statuette. Her rounded form, with its full breasts and birthing hips and while not yet pregnant, said “Woman” in an almost archetypal way. It also said “Goddess” and “You really want and need to have sex with me and worship me with your body” in no uncertain terms. She smiled as she heard the cries of release from the couple next door, even at this distance, and felt their loving, cuddling afterglow. It would be moments before a sibling for their son would be conceived.

She heard car doors slam as Alice brought the kids home, and felt their energies as they unlocked the door and walked in. She smiled.

“Mom! We’re home! You up yet?” called Jennifer.

“Shh! Your mom had a long trip and she’s got to be exhausted! That’s why we stopped and picked up stuff for breakfast. If she’s still asleep, let her sleep!” came Alice’s voice in rejoinder.

“What is that smell?” asked Jason, sniffing. “She must have sprayed some kind of perfume or air ... freshener? I like it.”

Alice and Jennifer sniffed, tentatively, and Alice coughed, stifling a laugh and blushing. She must have had a crazy session with her vibrator, Mr. Happy! It must have been a long dry trip! she thought. She felt her nipples tighten and her sex dampen. Come to think of it, it’s been a little while for me, too! Whew! I’m going to have to fix that soon!

Jennifer said, “Um, I don’t think that’s air freshener,” to Jason.

“It kinda smells like flowers, and I dunno, something,” said Jason. With the obliviousness of a teenage boy, he adjusted himself. “Whatever it is, I like it.”

Alice glanced at Jennifer, and grinned, “Shocking. Something with flowers that he likes.”

Jennifer grinned back, and with far more self-consciousness than her brother, tried to disguise her efforts to adjust her shirt and bra so that her erect nipples didn’t show, at least not as much. She looked at her aunt, noticing that Alice was in the same boat she was. Her aunt didn’t seem to care, though.

“It does smell like some kind of flower, though,” Alice acknowledged, and then to herself, And sex. Is it warm in here, or is it just me? Am I getting turned on by the smell of my sister’s pussy? I sense some therapy in my future. And seeing that Jennifer’s stars are out, maybe in hers, too! What is that flower?

Jennifer put down the bag of breakfast dishes they’d picked up, and still sniffing the air unobtrusively, opened a cabinet to take out some plates. Jason hadn’t moved, except to drop their suitcases, since he’d started sniffing. Suddenly, he said, “Gotta go!” and almost ran up the stairs to his room. Jennifer and Alice glanced at each other and laughed, quietly.

Jennifer said, “Bet he’s back down in three minutes!”

“Three minutes?” asked her aunt.

“Yeah. It’ll take him a minute to wash his hands!” They both laughed. Jennifer said, “Aunt Alice, you think Mom brought some kind of aphrodisiac back from the Middle East?”

“I don’t know, dear. That flower smell, well, it’s definitely something stimulating! I wonder if your mother opened something and had to fuck herself to sleep! I mean, um, you know, what do you kids say these days -- rub one out’?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I may have to do that myself in a minute! I know it’s hot out, but we gotta open the door and windows and clear the air! That smell is really getting to me!”

“Me, too, dear! You get the door, I’ll take the window.” The two moved to do just that, and as the window opened as widely as possible, a frustrated growl came from upstairs.

“That was fast,” said Jennifer.

“That was not a happy sound. Sounds like there’s a problem.” said Alice.

“Well, I’m not going to help him with it!” said Jennifer, who then blushed bright red, and put her hand over her mouth. “I mean, you know, sister and all! Wasn’t saying you should either, cause, you know, Aunt. Uh, sorry! Damn! My mind is in the gutter! Maybe he’ll call his girlfriend to give him a handy or something.”

“Does he have one?” asked Alice, taking lungsful of fresh air at the window.

“I dunno,” said Jennifer at the door, doing the same.

The sounds from upstairs were rhythmic, and plaintively vexed.

“I’d feel sorry for him, but...” started Jennifer, “actually, I do feel sorry for him. That’s starting to sound painful. Why the fuck are we listening to my brother beat off?”

“Where is your mother?” asked Alice, suddenly. “Sara! Sara, are you here? Wake up! We brought breakfast! We may need a fan or something, too! Sara?”

“I will be there in a moment,” came Sara’s voice from her bedroom.

Jennifer fanned the door to move more air into the room and out the window, as Alice went to put food on the plates and set out the cups of coffee. She called out, “The food’s on the table, so come out when your ready! Jason, put that away and come eat breakfast! Your mother will be out here in a second!”

With the room cleared out a little, Jennifer closed the door, but left the window open. She walked over and flopped into her chair. Jason came down the stairs carefully, his pants tented but his hands clean. Jennifer looked at him, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah. Uh, I’m fine. Thanks.” he said.

Sara came into the room, and immediately, all eyes turned to Her, and widened. The Goddess had revealed Herself to them.

“Sara ... I, uh, you’re naked!” stuttered Alice, sitting down in a kitchen chair in shock.

“I am not naked, I am clothed in beauty.” replied Sara.

“Uhm, yeah ... that smell ... it’s you! Fuck, Sara, you’re gorgeous! I mean, um, what the hell is wrong with me? I ... uh ... welcome home?”

“Hello, Alice. Hello, Jennifer. Hello, Jason.”

Jennifer just stared at her Mother. Mother was right, not “Mom” which didn’t have enough respect. She was so beautiful! Like a goddess. A Goddess. She was suddenly aware that her lap was wet and her nipples painfully tight with need. For her Mother? W. T. F.?

Jason’s brain had just switched off. He was aware of his Mother’s beautiful, amazingly sexy body, and his throbbing erection. There wasn’t room for more.

Alice was flustered and confused. She’d grown up with Sara, Sara had been a major part of her life for years, especially after her divorce an Sara’s becoming widowed. She’d never, ever had a sexual thought about her sister. She’d seen Sara’s naked body on occasion, and at the time it was no different than if she’d been clothed. Now ... now she wanted Sara. Alice was certain she wasn’t a lesbian, she knew because there was an experiment in college that hadn’t been satisfying at all. But her sister -- dear God what was she thinking? -- she wanted to kiss and nibble and suck her breasts. She wanted to hold her, roll in her, rub all of her body with hers, smell Her, lick her, kiss Her, and dive between Her thighs. She desperately wanted to hear her sister coo and scream in an orgasm that she, Alice, had given Her. She felt so wet that it was pooling in panties and into the crack of her ass ... lubricating her asshole ... Wait! How could she be feeling this way, reacting to her sister? Her Mother, baby Alice with an adult woman’s body nestled at Her breasts, suckling, grinding her clit into Hers. Alice’s nipples wept and begged to be touched and sucked in return. Her pussy plotted to seize control of her legs and carry Alice over to Her, kneel at Her feet, plant her face in Her sex, from which the dizzying smell of heaven emanated.

Alice found that she hadn’t just been fantasizing as her mouth found Her pussy. Oh, Goddess! Mother fuck me! Alice’s tongue was in Sara’s wet, slick pussy, and her lips kissed Her engorged clit standing proudly out of its sheath above Her nether lips. Pleasure and rightness and electricity flowed through Alice. She felt like a sexual benediction was given as Sara gently held her head to Her sex. Alice’s pussy was on wet-electrical-fire of need and pleasure. Her legs parted, and her fingers plunged deep into it, thrusting and strumming inside and out while she kissed and licked and sucked Mother’s sex. She felt the orgasm like a wave of buzzing electrical bees of joyful pleasure come from Her, go down Alice’s spine making nipples and pussy and body convulse in a pleasure that was off any scale imaginable. Alice fell back to the floor, her legs and pussy thrown wide, begging to be filled.

“Fuck me! Jason, fuck me! Fuck me now!” cried Alice, begging for the only penis available. That was what was important, not who it belonged to. She needed that cock inside her, like her pussy’s need would suck her away into itself unless it were plugged with a hard cock!

“Jason,” spoke Mother, in a voice like chocolate caramel sex, “fuck Aunt Alice now.”