Paris was the son of a Queen, one of the Princes of Troy – and a very handsome one as well. However, he had no idea that he came from such noble and ancient lineage… a diviner had foretold that he would be the ruin of Troy, and so his father – weeping with tears – had given him over to a servant to expose in the wilderness. The servant did as he was told, but returned a day later to find the babe still alive… regretful of killing such a sweet and strong child, the servant gave him over to one of the shepherds of the mountainside. So Paris, son of King Priam of Troy, was raised a shepherd, daydreaming his days away on the hills with the sheep. With his handsome face and strong body, he attracted a lot of female attention… however, Paris’ placid life filled with daydreaming on hills was soon about to change.

The Gods were all attending the wedding party of Peleus and Thetis, all except one minor Goddess – Eris the Goddess of Discord. Most would have thought it understandable that Peleus and Thetis didn’t want Discord at their wedding, but Eris was extremely angry about not being invited. She took one of the apples of Hesperides and threw it amongst the guests. Startled, they picked it up and read the inscription which said, “To The Fairest”.

Although Peleus and Thetis had not invited Discord, it was immediately amongst them as the Goddesses began to fight about who the apple should go to. Hera – Queen of the Gods, Athena – Goddess of Wisdom, and Aphrodite – Goddess of Love, were all convinced that the apple belonged to them. Wisely, the male Gods stood back and let the females bicker it out for themselves, knowing better than to involve themselves in such a dispute.

All the way back to Olympus the Goddesses argued, leaving the others no peace with their squabbling dispute. Finally Zeus, greatest of the Gods, decreed that he would choose an impartial judge to decide…

Already knowing of the handsome royal shepherd boy, Zeus took the three Goddesses down to where Paris lounged on the hill, dreamily watching over his flock. The young man started with astonished surprise as a very muscled and handsome man appeared before him, three beautiful ladies behind him.

“Hello Paris,” said Zeus, his voice booming, “I, Zeus, Greatest of the Gods have decided that you will be an impartial judge over which of these three Goddesses is the most beautiful. You will give this golden apple to the Goddess that you choose.” And Paris held the golden apple of discord, beautiful and dangerous, in the palm of his hand.

Hera stepped forward first, Queen of the Gods, her ivory body was perfection; the swells of her curves luscious and inviting, her face was too perfect to be real and she moved with a boneless grace that made Paris’ mouth go dry as she approached him. Black eyes were kind and inviting as she leaned down towards him, her wine-red lips close to his ear; sweet breath on his cheek made him close his eyes as he was filled with inarticulate longing…

“Choose me,” she whispered, her voice husky and filled with persuasive promise, “And I will make you the most powerful man in the world… Kings will bow to you, no one will be able to stand against you, and you shall be my Champion on earth.”

Then Athena stepped forward as Hera moved off to the side, armed in her battle gear and yet magnificently beautiful and feminine, despite her manly attire. Grey eyes flashed with passion and hidden depths as she whispered to him, “Choose me, and I will make you the wisest man in the world. People will come from all over to hear your wisdom and you shall never want for anything again… no one will be able to defeat you ever, for all your power shall come from within yourself.”

Aphrodite was last, and Paris could feel his groin tightening as she swayed forward, although she was not actually more beautiful than either Hera or Athena, she had a way of movement that made her the most seductive of them all. Her clothing showed nothing and yet hinted at everything, flashes of marble skin that were gone before the eye even had time to really register them. Amber eyes, lips of purest red, lashes that brushed against his cheek as she leaned forward.

“Give me the apple,” she whispered huskily, her voice full of lovers moans in the night, “And I will give you the most beautiful woman in the world for your wife.”

Paris stared up at her with longing, the effect of the three beautiful goddesses might have killed another man, but he was born in a line of Kings although he knew it not. The three stood before him, glorious and stunning. He honestly could not decide which was the most beautiful… but he did know which of the prizes offered that he wanted the most. Their magnificent beauty had affected him more than either Hera or Athena had realized; although he knew that he could have none of the Goddesses, surely the most beautiful woman in the world would have at least a fraction of their glory. And he could be content with that.

Mutely, unable to speak, he held the golden apple out to Aphrodite, Goddess of love. She smiled and walked forward as both Hera and Athena screamed their fury and vanished.

Within days Aphrodite had already started to change Paris’ life, giving him the Princely robes he deserved and telling him of his true heritage. She gave him a retinue and chariot, sent him to the gates of Troy where he was recognized as the true son of Priam. Although his father remembered the prophecy, he could not turn his son away again. Not such a fine, wonderful young man… and he was family. All these years King Priam had regretted the loss of his younger son, he would not send him away a second time.

This set of events set in motion a chain, which Cassandra – Paris’ prophetic sister – would bring a conflagration of flames onto Troy. Young and naive, Paris interpreted this to mean his passion for the most beautiful woman in the world, whom he decided would look much like the goddesses he had seen earlier that morning.


Paris was enamored. Not only was Helen of Sparta stunningly beautiful, but she was obviously sweet-natured and erotic; her breasts barely bound under clothe, pink nipples poking through the thin material. Menelaus obviously wanted to show off his wife to his foriegn allies, the Princes Hector and Paris of Troy; Menelaus’ acquisition of Helen had been a bit of a coup after all. Having been chosen from numerous suitors, and now all of them were sworn to protect him against the others, ensuring that no one would be so rash as to endanger his wife. Helen’s father had been quite wise when choosing a husband for his daughter, wanting to ensure her safety and see that she would not be used as a pawn.

Alas, the Gods have a way of meddling with mankind that goes far beyond the wisdom of men.

As Paris and his brother approached the throne, he only had eyes for Menelaus’ wife; her curvy, supple body, creamy skin, her glowing, sparkling eyes… the sheen of luster in her unbound hair… the way her breathing made her chest lift… the flash of smooth leg from under her skirt. His groin was already tightening… of course she wasn’t as perfectly made as the Goddesses, but she was close. And he could have her, he WOULD have her, which made her even more desirable than any of the Goddesses – she was available. And she had been promised to him.

So it was that as Paris approached the throne of the King of Sparta and his wife, that Aphrodite directed her son Eros to send one of his arrows into the heart of the Queen. The arrow hit just as her eyes met Paris’ and she was immediately in the throes of the most passionate love imaginable, her lips parting and her chest rising as she breathed in, taking in the sight of this most handsome of men. Most desirable… she squeezed her legs together as her womanhood spasmed in response to the knowing smile he gave her; she’d never felt like this before even though she’d loved her husband dearly for his kind treatment of her and her family. But that was like a small spark compared to this roaring fire!

That night, as Menelaus slept, Helen crept out into the hall and down towards where the envoy from Troy slept. Paris was waiting for her in the hallway.

“You feel it too…” she breathed, her voice was low and husky, sending tingles up and down his spine. Stepping forward he put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face up so that she could see the desire and love shining in his eyes.

“You were promised to me by the Goddess of Love, and so you shall be mine.” Helen wasn’t sure what he meant, but she knew what his passionate and probing kiss meant. She gasped under the assault, his strong arms holding up her trembling body as she was pressed against him; her knees were weak as desire flooded through her, divine influence moving within her.

Just enough composure remained for her to push him away and gasp, “We can’t here… not where anyone can see.”

Paris nodded and pulled her along the hall to where he had his own room, they fell through the doorway, kissing and tearing each other’s clothes off. Such was the Goddess of Love’s power that Helen didn’t even question her sudden desires, all she knew was that she loved this man before her and she needed him like she needed air. His touch set off fireworks in her body, that echoed through her until they came as moans from her mouth.

He laid her down on the bed, marveling at her naked perfection, her body laid out whole before him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. Helen had heard such compliments before, but suddenly it seemed to mean so much more when he said it. She actually blushed, her cheeks turning a becoming pink as he looked over her with admiration and desire.

Suddenly he leaned forward and kissed her, pulling her into his arms and she could feel the swell of his manhood pressing against her inner thighs. Opening her legs to him she pressed her hips upwards as he entered her, moaning softly as her womanhood stretched around him, clasping him tightly as he worked his way in. Paris groaned at her tight wetness, the way her perfect cherry lips made a little ‘o’ as he entered her, the soft press of her breasts against his hard chest. Completely buried inside of her, he leaned down and took one of her rosy nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the little nubbin as her pussy rippled around him. Helen moaned and ran her hands over his head, pulling him into her breasts.

Rolling them both over, he put Helen on top of him, her legs straddling his body as she sat upright on top of his dick. Reaching up he gripped her perfect breasts, squeezing them tightly as she began to ride up and down on him, her hair flowing down her back as she moved. It was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen, even more beautiful than the Goddesses, because Helen was a mortal woman, and she was his. Her face was ecstatic as she moved on top of him, creating pleasure for both of them.

Sitting upright he sucked her nipple into his mouth, pulling her hips down against him and making her grind against his body for stimulation. Throwing her head back she cried out her pleasure as she began to cum, her tight pussy grasping him and massaging. Reaching behind her perfect ass, he gripped one cheek and then slid a finger into her asshole; Helen’s entire body convulsed as her orgasm brought her to new pleasures. The spasms of her pussy around his dick and her wild gyrations on top of him brought Paris to completion, groaning as he filled her with his seed.

Helen gasped and sighed, leaning forward so that her head rested on his shoulder as he finished cumming. He ran his hands up and down her smooth back, unable to believe that she was really his.

“We will be together always,” he whispered into her hair, “And it will always be like this… you are mine…”

Fluid seeped out of her as they held each other tightly, unaware that in a few hours they would be forced to flee in Troy’s ships, that they would bring with them the destruction of an entire civilization, and the birth and death of many heroes.

The fall of Troy had begun.