Spent the afternoon teaching a warrior's history seminar at the museum. The way some of the younger attendees looked at me... their eyes lingering on my chest, my lips... it stirred something primal. It's a potent reminder of the power of myth, of desire, and of the body. I could practically feel their imaginations running wild, wondering what it would be like to have an Amazonian queen on her knees before them, worshipping their cocks, or bending her over a display case to take her from behind. The thought of being their forbidden fantasy, of letting one of them sneak away to a back room to fuck me senseless against ancient stone... it made my pussy throb. The discipline to maintain my composure was a battle in itself. Now I'm home, and this aching need between my legs demands to be filled. Someone come remind me why I chose a mortal man over a god. I need a cock that can make me scream and squirt until I forget my own name.