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His touch makes my heart race. Not a word is said between us. The song has done the work and now we are linked together. I feel recognition for this creature in my soul, a deep knowing. With every passing note and trill, I believe even more strongly that this is who I was made for. He must be the embodiment of Hyrrm, come to claim me early. I do not know how to resist, even if I wanted to. Women in Trelok’s tribe are not taught to say no. The word is barely used except when he uses it.
His hand begins to wander my body. Every place he touches me seems to come alive anew. When his second hand takes hold of my hips to pull me forward and then lay me down in the grain, my song stops again. This time it is replaced with soft moans as this massive beast who is twice the size of me dives head-first between my thighs, his horns laid back over his head as he begins the thorough ritual of claiming my flesh.
Is this death? The moment of dying? Have the villagers been spared the act of sacrifice? I do not know. My mind is muddled, my thoughts confused with lust. I am condemned and the condemned must be pure, but I want pleasure before the end comes to me. I want to know what my body is capable of feeling, because this strange touch is stirring up a heat inside me to match Hyrrm’s own intensity. He breathes against my sex, soft currents of air teasing me as his hands roam my body, finding little places I didn’t know felt good. I have always thought of myself as nothing more than meat waiting to be given to the mountain, but these feelings, racing through me, are igniting an understanding of myself which feels like nothing less than a revelation.
“Oh!” I let out an exclamation of surprise which is far too little and also far too much as his tongue plays along the slit of my sex. This is the place I must remain pure, but those thoughts are chased from my head the moment I feel the flickering wetness against the sensitive parts of me. I thought I was all more or less one thing down there, a pocket of flesh never to be used. But his touch shows me that there are parts of greater sensitivity, one particular little spot which, when stimulated with a caress of his tongue, makes me cry out with excitement I cannot control.
He growls almost constantly, his voice a purring rumble which blocks out the sounds Hyrrm is making. The day is starting to wane around us, gathering shadows making it more difficult to see, but I don’t need to see. I only need to feel.
My head falls back, my mouth remains open, my cries no longer lyrical, but desperate as he feasts between my thighs, the motions of his mouth rough in some places but tender in most casting a spell of pleasure over me, binding me in toe curling place as I spread my thighs and surrender to the beast.
I do not know how long the pleasure rolls through my body. I have lost sense of time, and of place. The world I know has melted away and been replaced with a new experience of such intensity I can only focus on it.
Vulcan
I have to claim her. My mating appendage is rock hard and ready to penetrate any kind of female cavity, including the one spread out before me, wet and puffy, guarded by the softest ramparts of female flesh, topped with ruby red hair. But there is something preventing me from doing more than pleasuring her tender flesh. I hope it isn’t what it feels like, something so disgustingly human I can’t even believe I am thinking the word: chivalry.
As much as my flesh cries out to be inside the tight little hole I am exploring with my tongue, I know she is not ready. She is tight, and she is pure, the skin of her hymen still somehow intact. I sense that is important, perhaps to her survival. Human males can become aggressive if the seal on their female is broken when they come to poke her with their pathetic flesh swords.
No human will ever have her. She is mine.
I have to fight for clarity, remember where I am and why - or at least, where I think I am and why I might be there.
Instead of slamming myself inside the appealingly tight little hole, I instead focus on the orgasms I am giving her. She has trembled and squirmed her way through several already, each one making her sweat and wail, her toes curling, heels sliding against the rich soil, her hips rising to my mouth, delivering the chalice of her body to the dangerous maw of my alien mouth.
