In a London not quite our own — where Olympus towers in chrome and glass above the city skyline, and the gods live not in myth but in penthouse suites — one goddess awoke to the pulse of desire.

Afrodite stirred. The air vibrated with a familiar thrum — the aching frequency of raw, masculine lust. It called to her. It always did.

With a smile, she chose her form for the day: a soft, red-haired beauty in a short white summer dress, legs bare, her figure draped in innocence. A glamour spell shimmered over her like perfume — no one would recognize the goddess beneath the silk.

She out into the city, drawn to the hum of hunger… and it led her to a park. A date. A boy, flushed with nervous energy, and a girl posing only for spite — using him to torment some unseen ex through photos and fake affection.

Afrodite tilted her head and whispered a small charm. The girl’s gaze glazed for just a moment, attention drifting elsewhere.

And then it was just him. Alone

She didn’t say a word… just got on all fours, ass up, soaking wet, looking back at me like she needed it.
I grabbed her hips, slid in deep, and she moaned — back arched, body shaking, eyes full of hunger.
Every thrust made her tighter. Every second inside her made it harder to stop.
That tight little pussy was gripping me like it never wanted me to pull out.
POV. Deep. Hard. Relentless.
She bent over just for me… and I gave her everything