MEETING DEMON SPIRITS AAMON & MORMO (BLACK DEMON WOLVES)

MEETING

DEMON SPIRITS

AAMON & MORMO

THE

LOVE GODDESS

APHRODITE

(GREEK GODDESS OF LOVE)

AAMON & MORMO

(BLACK DEMON WOLVES)

CREATED

J. BECK

2026

Erotic Demonic Revelry:

A Group Encounter in the Ruins

Amid the crumbling columns and weathered tombs of an ancient Greek necropolis, overgrown with wild ivy and bathed in the golden haze of a dying sun, the air thrummed with forbidden ecstasy.

The young demon Aamon—24, lean and dangerous, his long greasy black hair falling in slick strands over bare, sweat-glistened shoulders—lounged shirtless against a fallen marble slab.

Black leather pants clung to his thighs, boots planted firmly in the dust of centuries. In one hand he gripped a half-empty bottle of deep red wine, its crimson contents staining his lips.

His dark eyes burned with infernal hunger as he pulled the demoness Mormo into his lap.

Mormo, wild and untamed at 24, her big disheveled blonde hair a tangled halo of gold, straddled him with abandon.

Her black ruffled sheer robes—nearly transparent—clung to her curves, offering teasing glimpses of small, pert cleavage as the fabric shifted with every breath.

She leaned in, lips parted, and their kiss ignited: deep, open-mouthed, tongues entwining in a slow, deliberate dance of heat and wine.

Aamon’s free hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as she moaned softly into his mouth.

But they were not alone.

Hovering above and behind them, as if awakened from eternal slumber, stood the living marble statue of Aphrodite herself—enchanted, animated, her cold stone warmed to lifelike flesh by some ancient, lustful spell.

Her voluptuous form was draped in flowing sheer robes that did little to conceal the generous swell of her cleavage, her iconic big, cascading hair carved yet somehow moving like living waves.

In one elegant hand she held a silver wine chalice, tilted just enough for a thin stream of red to spill onto Mormo’s exposed shoulder, tracing a sensual path down her skin.

Aphrodite leaned down, her marble-smooth lips brushing the side of Mormo’s neck, then joining the kiss.

What began as a dual embrace became a group kiss—three mouths meeting in a slow, languid convergence.

Aamon’s tongue flicked against Mormo’s, then grazed Aphrodite’s cool, divine lips.

Mormo turned slightly, capturing the goddess in a soft, exploratory kiss while Aamon claimed them both, wine and breath and desire mingling in the heated space between them.

The ruins bore silent witness: broken statues, forgotten graves, the whisper of wind through cracked stone.

Yet here, in this desecrated sanctuary, passion defied death itself. Hands roamed—Aamon’s gripping thighs, Mormo’s nails raking his chest, Aphrodite’s cool fingers tracing jaws and throats.

The chalice tilted again, wine spilling across lips, dripping down chins, staining sheer fabric and bare skin alike.

A slow, shared exhale. A deeper press of lips. Tongues sliding, tasting, claiming.

In that moment, demon, demoness, and goddess were bound in one endless, decadent group kiss—eternal, profane, and utterly consumed by pleasure beneath the watchful ruins of antiquity.

Erotic Demonic Revelry:

A Deeper Descent in the Ruins

The ancient Greek necropolis lay in hushed ruin under a blood-orange twilight, broken columns and shattered pediments cloaked in ivy and shadow. The air was thick with the scent of crushed wild thyme, spilled wine, and heated skin.

Aamon, the demon incarnate, reclined against a weathered marble sarcophagus, shirtless and gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat.

Long, greasy black hair clung to his sharp jaw and broad shoulders; black leather pants hugged his hips and thighs like a second skin, the buckle undone just enough to tease the shadowed line beneath.

Heavy boots planted wide, he held a near-empty bottle of dark red wine loosely in one hand, crimson droplets tracing slow paths down his bare chest.

Straddling him with shameless hunger was Mormo—wild, golden, untamed. Her big disheveled blonde hair cascaded in tangled waves over her shoulders, framing flushed cheeks and parted lips.

The black ruffled sheer robes she wore had slipped from one shoulder entirely, the translucent fabric clinging to damp skin and barely concealing the swell of her small, firm breasts.

Her nipples pressed visibly against the gossamer layers as she ground slowly against Aamon’s lap, a soft whimper escaping her throat.

Their kiss was no gentle meeting—it was devouring.

Tongues slid slick and deliberate against each other, wine-sweet and urgent, teeth grazing, lips sucking.

Aamon’s free hand gripped the back of her thigh, fingers digging into soft flesh as he pulled her tighter against the hard line straining beneath leather.

Mormo’s nails raked down his chest, leaving faint red trails that made him growl low into her mouth.

And then Aphrodite herself—once cold marble, now impossibly alive and warm—leaned in from behind Mormo, her legendary beauty made flesh by forbidden enchantment.

Voluminous curls of golden hair tumbled in sculpted waves, framing a face of divine perfection.

Her sheer robes, pale and almost weightless, draped over full, heavy breasts, the deep cleavage glistening faintly where spilled wine had traced rivulets between them.

In one graceful hand she held a silver chalice brimming with red; in the other, she cradled Mormo’s jaw, tilting the demoness’s head back just enough to join them.

The kiss became three.

Aphrodite’s cool, plush lips brushed the corner of Mormo’s mouth first, then claimed them fully—soft, commanding, tasting of eternity and desire.

Mormo moaned openly now, her tongue sliding from Aamon’s to meet the goddess’s, the three of them converging in a slow, wet tangle.

Aamon angled upward, capturing Aphrodite’s lower lip between his teeth for a moment before his tongue swept into the shared space—tasting both women at once, wine and breath and raw need mingling in the heat between them.

Wine spilled freely. Aphrodite tilted the chalice deliberately, letting a warm stream pour over Mormo’s exposed collarbone, down between her breasts, soaking the sheer fabric until it clung transparently to every curve.

Aamon’s mouth followed the trail, tongue lapping hungrily at the crimson paths on her skin before returning to the group kiss, deeper now—messy, breathless, unrestrained.

Hands roamed without restraint: Aamon’s sliding under Mormo’s robes to grip bare hips; Mormo’s threading into Aphrodite’s luxurious hair, pulling the goddess closer;

Aphrodite’s cool fingers tracing Aamon’s throat, then lower, teasing the edge of leather.

Soft gasps and low groans echoed against ancient stone, bodies shifting, pressing, grinding in a slow, decadent rhythm.

In the heart of the ruined cemetery, beneath the indifferent gaze of forgotten gods, demon, demoness, and living goddess surrendered completely to the erotic tangle—lips fused, tongues entwined, wine and desire flowing without end.

Time dissolved. Only heat, taste, and touch remained—profane, exquisite, eternal.

Eternal Threesome in the Ruins:

A Prolonged Descent into Ecstasy

The twilight had deepened into velvet night, stars pricking the indigo sky above the ancient necropolis. Moonlight silvered the broken marble and ivy, casting long shadows over the three entwined bodies that had long since abandoned restraint.

Aamon lay back against the cool sarcophagus, leather pants shoved down just enough to free his thick, throbbing length. Mormo straddled him reverse, her sheer black robes bunched around her waist, back arched as she sank slowly—agonizingly slowly—onto him.

A low, wet sound filled the air as she took him inch by inch, her slick heat enveloping him completely. “Gods, Aamon… you’re so fucking thick,” she gasped, voice husky and trembling. “Filling me so perfectly… I can feel every vein pulsing inside me.”

He groaned deeply, the sound rumbling from his chest like distant thunder, hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave faint marks.

“Look at you, my golden demoness,” he rasped, voice rough with lust. “Taking me so greedily… your cunt is pure heaven—hot, wet, clenching around me like you never want to let go.”

His hips rolled upward in a slow grind, eliciting a sharp, breathy cry from her lips.

Aphrodite knelt behind Mormo, her divine form glowing faintly in the moonlight, sheer robes fallen open to expose the full, heavy perfection of her breasts.

She leaned in, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along Mormo’s spine, tasting the salt of her sweat and the lingering sweetness of spilled wine.

“Beautiful creature,” the goddess purred against damp skin, voice like honeyed silk.

“The way you move… so wanton, so exquisite. Your body sings when you’re pleasured.”

One elegant hand slid between Mormo’s thighs from the front, fingers circling her swollen clit with feather-light precision.

Mormo’s head fell back against Aphrodite’s shoulder, a broken moan spilling out as pleasure coiled tighter.

“Oh… oh fuck, yes—your fingers are magic,” she whimpered, grinding down harder on Aamon while pushing back into the goddess’s touch.

The wet sounds of their joining grew louder—slick, rhythmic, obscene in the sacred silence of the ruins.

Aamon’s eyes darkened with raw admiration as he watched them.

“Aphrodite… look at you,”

He growled, reaching up to cup one of her full breasts, thumb brushing over a hardened nipple.

“Most perfect tits I’ve ever seen—heavy, soft, begging to be worshipped.”

He pinched gently, drawing a soft gasp from the goddess that made Mormo clench involuntarily around him.

“And you, Mormo… your ass is a fucking masterpiece bouncing on my cock like that.

So tight, so wet—dripping down my balls. I could stay buried in you forever.”

Aphrodite smiled, slow and wicked, leaning over Mormo’s shoulder to capture Aamon’s mouth in a deep, wine-sweet kiss.

Their tongues slid together lazily while Mormo rode him in long, deliberate strokes, the air thick with the mingled scents of sex, crushed herbs, aged stone, and the faint metallic tang of spilled wine drying on skin.

The goddess broke the kiss to murmur against his lips:

“Your cock feels divine inside her… I can see how she stretches around you. So strong, so enduring.”

She trailed kisses down Mormo’s neck, then lower, taking one of the demoness’s nipples into her mouth and sucking gently.

Mormo keened, hips stuttering.

“Keep going, my loves.”

Aphrodite whispered, voice trembling with her own rising need. “Fuck each other slowly… let me taste how wet you both are.”

She dipped two fingers alongside where Aamon entered Mormo, gathering slickness, then brought them to her lips—sucking them clean with a low, appreciative hum.

“You taste like sin and nectar combined.”

Hours blurred. Positions shifted languidly—

Aphrodite straddling Aamon’s face while Mormo rode him

Then Mormo on her back with the goddess’s tongue buried between her thighs

While Aamon took Aphrodite from behind.

Every thrust, every lick, every grind was drawn out, savored. Praise flowed endlessly:

“You’re both so beautiful when you come undone…”

“Your tongue is fucking sorcery, goddess…”

“Take me deeper, my demon—milk every drop…”

“The way you clench when I praise you… perfection…”

The ruins echoed with wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh, breathless moans, the rustle of sheer fabric, the occasional clink of the forgotten wine bottle rolling across stone.

Sweat cooled on skin only to be warmed again by eager mouths. No rush. No end.

Just three immortal beings lost in prolonged, worshipful, utterly filthy ecstasy beneath the indifferent stars—admiring, praising, tasting, touching, fucking—until time itself seemed to surrender.

Eternal Threesome in the Ruins:

Filthier Worship--Endless Ecstasy

Moonlight drenched the ancient necropolis in silver, turning every bead of sweat into liquid mercury on their entangled bodies.

The air was heavy with the raw scent of sex—musk, slick arousal, spilled wine, and the earthy tang of crushed grass beneath them.

Aamon’s leather pants were long since kicked aside, his thick cock buried deep inside Mormo as she rode him reverse, her back pressed to his chest.

She sank down slowly, deliberately, a wet, obscene squelch echoing each time her dripping cunt swallowed him to the hilt.

“Fuck, Aamon,” she groaned, voice ragged and dripping with lust.

“Your fat demon cock is splitting me open… stretching my greedy little pussy so perfectly.

I’m soaked for you—feel how I’m creaming all over your shaft?”

He answered with a guttural growl, hands bruising her hips as he thrust up hard, balls slapping against her.

“That’s it, my filthy golden slut,” he rasped, voice thick.

“Ride me like the cock-hungry whore you are. Your cunt’s gripping me so tight—

Milking me like you want every last drop of my cum flooding your womb.

Dripping down my balls… fucking obscene how wet you get.”

Aphrodite knelt between their spread legs, divine face flushed with arousal, sheer robes discarded entirely.

Her full, perfect tits swayed as she leaned in, tongue dragging slow and flat up Aamon’s slick shaft and over Mormo’s stretched entrance, tasting their combined juices. She moaned loudly at the flavor, eyes rolling back.

“Gods, you two taste like pure depravity,”

She purred, voice velvet and filthy.

“Your cock, Aamon—so thick and veined, glistening with her creamy mess. And you, sweet Mormo… your pretty cunt is gushing for him.

Look how swollen your clit is—begging for my tongue.”

Mormo whimpered, grinding down harder.

“Please, goddess—lick me while he fucks me. Suck my clit like the divine whore you are.”

Aphrodite obliged instantly, sealing her lips around the throbbing nub and sucking with slow, relentless pressure while Aamon kept thrusting.

The wet sounds were relentless—sloppy thrusts, greedy licks, muffled moans.

Aamon’s head fell back against the stone, eyes locked on Aphrodite’s bobbing head.

“Fuck, look at you, goddess—eating her sloppy cunt like a starving slut. Those perfect tits bouncing while you tongue-fuck her… I could come just watching you devour her juices off my cock.”

He reached down, fisting Aphrodite’s golden hair, guiding her mouth lower to lick his heavy balls. She hummed in delight, sucking one into her mouth, tongue swirling.

Positions melted into one another with languid filth:

Aphrodite on her back, legs spread wide as Aamon fucked her slow and deep, her divine pussy clenching around him.

Mormo straddled the goddess’s face, grinding her soaked folds against that perfect mouth.

“Eat me, goddess,” Mormo demanded breathlessly. “Tongue-fuck my cunt while he breeds you. Taste how much I’m dripping for both of you.”

Aphrodite’s muffled moan vibrated through Mormo as she obeyed, tongue plunging deep, lapping greedily.

Aamon leaned forward, capturing Mormo’s mouth in a messy kiss, tasting herself on the goddess’s lips still clinging to Mormo’s.

“You’re both perfect fucktoys,” he growled against her lips.

“Aphrodite’s divine cunt squeezing me like velvet sin… and you, my demon whore, feeding her your creamy pussy like the generous slut you are.”

Later, Aamon on his knees behind Aphrodite, pounding into her from behind while she buried her face between Mormo’s thighs.

Each thrust pushed the goddess’s tongue deeper into Mormo, who clawed at ancient stone, crying out.

“Harder—fuck her harder so she tongue-fucks me deeper! Yes—oh gods, I’m gonna squirt all over her perfect face…”

Praise poured out, filthier with every breath:

“Your cock is ruining me for anyone else, Aamon—wrecking my holy cunt…”

“Swallow my cum, goddess—drink every drop from her sloppy hole…”

“Such a perfect cockslut, Mormo—look how you cream when I call you my filthy pet…”

“Taste us mixed together, darling—our cum dripping down your chin like the greedy goddess-whore you are…”

The night stretched on, bodies slick and trembling, scents of sweat and sex thick in the air.

No climax rushed; every thrust, lick, grind was drawn out, worshipped, drowned in the dirtiest praise until pleasure blurred into eternity among the silent ruins.