I want to tell you the story of Easter, my idol, my hero. The woman I most admire, respect, and try to model my own life on.

For 4,000 years, Easter was the Sumerian Innana, literally the Goddess of Sex and Fertility.

Her mother was Ningal, the Goddess of the Plants; it was her mom who filled the valley of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers with shade trees against the northern African heat, nutritious grains, and fragrant flowers.

Her brother was Utu, the God of the Sun, whose bright rays helped mom’s plants to grow and flourish throughout the valley.

Her father was Sin, the God of the Moon, by whose soft light Easter’s followers joyously celebrated the revered Goddess of Sex and her gift of Fertility.

Easter was just under five feet tall. She had full, round hips, and a luscious ass that was formed of the two most perfect globes one could ever imagine. She was also generously endowed with full, round breasts, capped by wide areoles covering nearly half of each breast. Her nipples were long and wide, and were always very hard, very aroused. All as befits the Goddess of Sex.

When Easter bothered to wear clothing at all, it was a bikini bottom loosely woven of sparkling white pearls; it hid almost nothing, again as befits the Goddess of Sex. Even when otherwise naked, she wore bejeweled headgear, also befitting the Goddess of Sex, the Queen of the Heavens.

For more ceremonial occasions, Easter would omit the tiny pearl panties she so loved to wear; instead, she would wear an ankle-length skirt, with slits up both legs, almost up to her barely covered full, round breasts.

With each step she took, Easter’s ceremonial skirt would flip open, so all could see the world’s prettiest pussy, that of the Goddess of Sex. Her pussy was described as being as moist as the rivers surrounding the valley, and sweet and sticky like honey.

Followers of the Goddess Easter used three symbols to represent her: the rabbit symbolizing sexuality (the Easter Bunny), the egg symbolizing fertility (the Easter Egg), and pocket-size stones carved into the shape of a pregnant woman, symbolizing what happens when sex meets fertility.

For 4,000 years, Easter’s stone figurines of pregnant women were as common in the Middle East as Christian crosses are in modern America.

The financial backbone of Sumerian society was the grain business. Those who owned the grain fields and the grain siloes, obtained enormous wealth and political power. The top gtra8in growers and sellers were all women, and all followers of the Goddess Easter. The grain entrepreneurs could, and did, choose the men they would bed, often a different man every night or several men at the same time. They were all faithful servants of Easter, reveling in their own and their spiritual sisters’ sexuality and fertility, as their beloved Innana taught them to be.

Her brother Utu was the first to notice that his sister Easter had reached full, round, feminine sexual maturity. He offered to make a dress that would accentuate his sister’s curves. He would grow the flax, spin it into thread, weave it into fabric, and dye it with bright colors to attract a man to her bed.

Easter said no to her brother’s offer. The man who should make a dress for her should be the man who removes that dress from her and carry her to his bed. Surely not the role of her brother.

But, Easter lamented, she had no suitor to make a dress for her and to remove it from her; to bed her.

She wrote a plaintive poem that rings as true of every woman today who has just turned sexually mature, as it did in ancient Sumeria 6,000 years ago:

My vulva, my hardened horn
My heavenly canoe
Is full of eagerness
But as for me, the Innana, the Goddess of Sex
Who will plow my vulva?
Who will plow my high field?
Who will plow my wet ground?
As for me, the young woman,
Who will plow my vulva?
Who will plow me with the mighty power of an ox?
Who will plow my vulva?

Easter’s poetic ad for a stud was posted all over Sumeria. It brought just two suitors to her door, brave enough to think they could satisfy the enormous first-time, just-awakened sexual appetites of the Goddess of Sex: a farmer named Ezekiel, and a shepherd named Dumuzi.

Ezekiel showed up first. Easter boldly asked him, “So you think you can plow my wet, fertile field with the power of a plow-ox?”

Ezekiel laughed. “So you think you can intimidate me just because you are the Innana, the Goddess of Sex? I’m a farmer. I’ve plowed many a field.”

“Oh?” Easter smiled. “I want references. Whose vulva have you plowed? I want to ask her how satisfied was she afterward?”

Ezekiel frowned. “Your title as Queen of the Heavens doesn’t scare me. I've dealt with gods before!”

“Oh?” Easter challenged. “Which god was that?”

“I know not his name. But one day, I looked skyward, and I beheld an immense cloud of dust with lightning flashing from it. Within the fire were four creatures. Each creature had four faces: in front a human face, on the right side the face of a lion, on the left the face of an ox, and in back the face of an eagle. Each had four wings, with the tips of one pair touching the creature on either side; the other pair of wings covered its body. Under each of the four creatures was a wheel within a wheel. The wings and the wheels roared like a waterfall, and then I thought I heard a voice bellow ‘Oh wheel!’”

Easter laughed. “You’re not a man who can plow my vulva deeply, with the power of a mighty plow ox. You’re not a man who can make honey flow from me, who can plant life into my womb. You’re a frightened little boy. letting his wild imagination control him.”

Easter next called for the shepherd Dumuzi to meet with her.

She repeated her plaintive poem to Dumuzi.

Who will plow my vulva?
Who will plow my high field?
Who will plow my wet ground?

Dumuzi looked at Easter joyously. She had bathed thoroughly and luxuriously, and she had anointed herself with fragrant oils. Dumuzi imagined her washing herself, caressing herself playfully, all over.

Her bejeweled headdress bathed her spectacular breasts in a soft glow. Her panties, her only garment below her neck, was a mere string of pearls, and showed him why her pretty pussy had earned her the twin titles of Goddess of Sex and Queen of the Heavens.

Dumuzi pressed his neck close against hers. He kissed her.

I, Dumuzi, will be your king.
I will plow your field
I will plow your vulva
I will plow you like a mighty ox.

I, Dumuzi, will plow your vulva.
Water flows from your field for me, your servant.
Pour it out for me, Innana.
I will drink all that you offer.
And I will bring you fresh, thick cream every day.

Observe how your beauty affects me
Observe how my tree sprouts like a cedar
At the sight of you
At the feel of you
Observe how my staff of kingliness
Turns bright red as a sweet cherry for you.

Easter’s smile beamed widely.

Then plow my vulva
Man of my heart
Plow my vulva.

Dumuzi gently stretched the goddess, the Innana, upon her bed, and he stretched himself atop her.

Easter burst into joyous song.

He has sprouted; he has burgeoned;
He is lettuce planted by the water.
He is the one my womb loves best.
My well-stocked garden of the plain,
My barley growing high in its furrow,
My apple tree which bears fruit up to its crown,
He is lettuce planted by the water.
My honey-man, my honey-man sweetens me always.
My lord, the honey-man of the gods,
He is the one my womb loves best.
His hand is honey, his foot is honey,
He sweetens me always.
My eager impetuous caresser of the navel,
My caresser of the soft thighs,
He is the one my womb loves best.
He is lettuce planted by the water.

Dumuzi offered his own next lyric:

O Lady, your breast is your field.
Inanna, your breast is your field.
Your broad field pours out the plants.
Your broad field pours out grain.
Water flows from on high for your servant.
Bread flows from on high for your servant.
Pour it out for me, Inanna.
I will drink all that you offer.

Easter continued singing her love, her lust, her sexual satisfaction to Dumuzi:

Make your milk sweet and thick, my bridegroom.
My shepherd, I will drink your fresh milk.
Wild bull Dumuzi, make your milk sweet and thick.
I will drink your fresh milk.
Let the milk of the goat flow into my sheepfold.
Fill my holy churn with honey cheese.
Lord Dumuzi, I will drink your fresh milk.

I will guard the fresh milk in my sheepfold for you.
I will watch over your house of life, the storehouse of a new life,
The shining quivering place which has so delighted you
The storehouse of new life, filled with your fresh milk.

Dumuzi sang back to Easter:

I would go with you to my garden.
Inanna, I would go with you to my garden.
I would go with you to my orchard.
I would go with you to my apple tree.
There I would plant the sweet, honey-covered seed.

Easter told her most trusted High Priestess:

He brought me into his garden.
Dumuzi brought me into his garden.
I strolled with him among the standing trees,
I stood before his sprouting tree
I admired his sprouting tree
Before his beautiful apple tree I knelt, as is proper.
I knelt, and I made him come in joyous song,
As his sprouting arose toward me like a mighty poplar,
He came to me in the midday heat,
Upon my erupting Dumuzi,
Upon his mighty sprouting tree
I poured out my own plants from my womb.
I placed plants before him,
I poured out plants before him.
I placed grain before him,
I poured out grain before him,
I poured out my grain from my womb.

Last night as I, the queen, was shining bright,
Last night as I, the Queen of Heaven, was shining bright,
As I was shining bright and dancing,
Singing praises at the coming of the night—
He met me—he met me!
My Dumuzi met me.

He pushed his hand to my hand.
He pressed his neck close against mine.
My high priest was ready for my holy loins.
My Dumuzi was ready for my holy loins.
The plants and herbs in his field were ripe for me.
My field was plowed by my mighty ox
My field no longer lies fallow
He planted many seeds
He fed me his fresh milk

O my Dumuzi!
O my sweet honey-man
The fullness of your sprouting tree
Is my delight!
I shall daily climb your strong tree
I shall daily climb your sprouting tree

I bathed for the wild bull,
I bathed for the shepherd Dumuzi,
I perfumed my sides with ointment,
I coated my mouth with sweet-smelling amber,
I painted my eyes with kohl.
He shaped my loins with his fair hands.

The shepherd Dumuzi filled my lap with cream and milk,
He stroked my pubic hair,
He watered my womb.
He laid his hands upon my holy vulva,
He smoothed my black boat with cream,
He quickened my narrow boat with milk,
He creased me on the bed.
He pressed me deep into the bed.

Now I will caress my high priest on the bed,
I will caress the faithful shepherd Dumuzi,
I will caress his loins, the shepherdship of the land,
I will decree a sweet fate for him.

Not surprisingly, Easter decided that Dumuzi’s vow to feed her vulva with fresh milk every day, to daily churn her vulva until it flows like thick cheese, made her the perfect spouse for the Goddess of Sex, the Queen of the Heavens.

Easter’s most trusted high priestess officiated at her wedding to Dumuzi.

My queen, here is the choice of your heart,
the king, your beloved bridegroom.
May he spend long days in the sweetness of your holy loins.

She called for it, she called for it, she called for the bed!
She called for the bed that rejoices the heart.
She called for the bed that sweetens the loins.

The next day, Easter gushed to her High Priestess, about her wedding night with Dumuzi:

My beloved, the delight of my eyes, met me.
We rejoiced together.
He took his pleasure of me.
He brought me into his house.
He laid me down on the fragrant honey bed.
My sweet love, lying by my heart,
Tongue-playing, one by one,
My fair Dumuzi did so fifty times.
Now, my sweet love is sated.

Do you get that? Dumuzi licked her pussy fifty times until she had no more come to flow onto his handsome face!

That’s why Easter was the Goddess of Sex. And why she is my hero. She loved her man, and she could not get enough of his cock, enough of his licks and caresses and deep powerful fucks. Just like me.

I sometimes think that I might even be the reincarnation of Easter. The goddess who thoroughly rejoices in sexual revelry.

But unlike me, Easter's sexual bliss with her hot stud of a shepherd wouldn’t last very long. As we shall see in part 2, the delusional, ranting, near-lunatic farmer Ezekiel grew jealous that Easter chose Dumuzi over him. He grew jealous that he wasn't the one daily bringing such pure joy to the Innana's beautiful, perfect, tight, wet little pussy.  

And Ezekiel soon began to wreak havoc on the Innana’s sexually joyous marriage.

(to be continued)