It was going to be hot today. The eagles were already out, gliding along the ridge, looking for the updrafts that formed as the morning sun heated the thick cold morning air four thousand feet below at the cliff’s foot along the beach. Riverwild squinted into the sun as she watched the eagles carve lazy circles and untied her long black hair and shook it free. She crossed the terrace to the waterfall that poured from a spring in the rock face out over an outcropping and down eight feet into a shallow basin in the paving. Stepping into the stream, she flinched as the cold water shocked her skin and washed her sweat away. The water from the spring exited the basin through a channel cut in the stone, flowing straight out to the edge of the terrace and then plunging straight to the forest floor. The intricately laid stone plaza formed the roof of the ancient stone dwelling. Emerging from the cliff face and dramatically extending like a huge arrow point one hundred feet straight out in front of the cliff, the aerie seemed to levitate in space. Arranged around the terrace with formal perfection, large terra cotta basins anchored windswept trees that provided no shade but a natural counterpoint to the formal geometry of the mossy and pitted stone. Beneath the terrace roof hung a second platform which provided Riverwild’s living quarters, open to the wind and sky on the sides but sheltered from the elements by the floor above. She had lived here as long as she could remember. There was no “before,” only this place, where she had always been. While she appeared to be twenty years old, time had little meaning to her outside the routine of the day. She stepped out of the stream and moved to the warmest part of the terrace and lay down on the smooth stone. Stretching elegantly in the sun, as though to create as much surface area as possible for her darkly tanned skin to absorb heat, her mind settled. Lean muscles toned from life on the unforgiving rock rippled under smooth skin. The call of the eagle first alerted her to the man’s arrival. From the big raptor’s particular cry she could tell that he was still far off, but her body still responded viscerally to his impending presence. Her heart quickened and her body flushed. She rose and sprang fluidly atop the low wide wall at the edge of the terrace promontory and scanned the shore below. It was he, moving rapidly down the beach with his usual powerful grace. The eagle cried again and the man stopped and looked up. Riverwild was not sure if he saw her until he began moving again. He was running, headed towards the path up the cliff. She knew what that meant. The corner of her lip turned up in the beginning of a smile as she considered what the day would bring. She must prepare the Tane. The Tane, a room carved deep into the stone cliff untold millennia ago, was the oldest part of the mountain structure. It was accessed from the floor below by a long tunnel of stairs. She descended down the steps to the living area and snatched her white wrap, rendered soft and thin from untold washings under stone and sun Wood and wicker furniture creaked and a distant wind chime sang as a breeze flowed through the aerie. She padded across the soft colorful carpets strewn about the floor to the weathered wooden door in the center of the cliff wall and opened it. The warm moist air from the Tane wafted past her and she entered. The Tane’s original purpose was unknown, but Riverwild had no sense of it as anything other than what it was to her. A large room by any standard, it had a high, intricately vaulted and detailed ceiling reminiscent of a cathedral. It was barely lit by a shaft cored from the center of the ceiling up to the summit and paned with dark amber crystal, giving the room a subdued reddish glow. The walls, bearing the marks of the chisels that wrought them, were empty except for a single long shelf that held an assortment of old bottles with colored liquids and odd metal rings and implements. In the center of the room stood a large table formed from a massive slab of stone supported at the corners by fluted columns. Centered under the table was a large shallow bowl of oil pierced by a broad thick cloth wick. The table’s surface was slightly convex, rounded at the edges, and worn smooth and black as ebony by years of use. At each corner lay a darkly patinated chain. Sitting coiled on the center of the slab lay a foot long length of darkly oiled thin leather thong. Riverwild lit the wick under the table and headed back up the tunnel. --- He heard the eagle cry a second time and knew that he had been spotted. He stopped and looked up, first at the huge birds soaring in the sky and then at the aerie. From the beach it looked otherworldly, a beautiful stone masterpiece of unknown origin that jutted out from the cliff face with almost surreal delicacy. He still marveled at the engineering, at the beauty of the stone buttresses that seemed impossibly thin to support the heavy platforms above them. In the morning the aerie was particularly stunning, as its waterfall plunged thousands of feet into the dissipating mist of the forest between the cliff and the beach. He saw her. His eyes were not nearly as sharp as hers but the statuesque form was clearly discernable crouched at the very edge of the terrace. The sun illuminated her taut yet voluptuous features that revealed themselves intermittently through streams of her hair swirling in the now warm breeze. Turning in from the beach he set out towards the network of steep paths and rope bridges that cut back and forth up the cliff face up to the aerie. He quickened his pace. ---
Several moments later and he was standing on the edge of the terrace. He had been sweating for most of the climb and his skin shone like oiled wood in the bright sunlight. He removed the heavy bow and satchel that he had been carrying bandolier style and dropped them to the stone. His chest still heaving from exertion, he regarded her with an intensity that only his deep brown eyes could summon. One hand moved slowly to his loincloth and easily broke the leather cord that bound it around his waist. Naked and unadorned except for the dark blue patterns tattooed on his biceps, he was a mammoth figure and an imposing study in calm power. Without a word he crossed the remaining expanse of terrace in two strides and seized her roughly in his mountainous arms. She writhed wildly in his grasp, but knew from experience that her small physique was no match for his overwhelming strength. She hesitated in her struggle as his scent washed over her and the ripped cords of his muscles encircled her lithe frame. Her determined resistance faltered as her hands, pushing off, slid slowly over the sweat on his broad expanse of chiseled flesh. Phasing inexorably into animal passion, her pushing shifted into an urgent, grinding caress of his figure with her entire body. He sensed the transition in her physiology and released her to the ground, grabbed the front of her wrap, and ripped the covering from her body with one powerful motion. They stood there now facing one another, legs apart in athletic stance, taking in deep breaths, drinking in the physical magnificence of each other and luxuriating in the gathering hormonal storm. His eyes narrowed as he watched fresh beads of sweat trace their way around a swollen nipple and glide down the smooth contour of a full tanned breast. She considered the size and beauty of his genitalia. Even slack he was breathtakingly impressive. Now, completely erect in a powerful arch that curved to the sky and pulsing in expectation of fulfillment, he was simply enormous. Gazing at her imminent prize she quivered with anticipation and felt her labia swell and unfold like the wings of a newly emergent butterfly. Tumid moistness formed a rivulet on the inside of her thigh. As he surveyed the perfection of her body he noticed the glistening of her mons and the heaving of her chest. She was ready for him and it was time. The tip of his prodigous glans was heavily wet from expectation. He spread the thick fluid over the remainder of his head as it jumped and throbbed insistently in his hand. With blinding speed he grabbed her by the throat with one hand and cupped her crotch with the other. He lifted her high and close, brought his hips forward and swung her down forcibly onto his massive thrumming shaft. She loved this part. He was mythical in his maleness and to be taken by him made her feel complete. As his hand closed around her throat she threw her head back and arched her whole body sharply. Staring at the sky, she felt herself lifted and then falling. He was inside her and the sun filled the sky and her vision faded as she contracted convulsively and drew him in as deeply as she could. Pain and light. Ecstasy and fullness. Sweat and tears. He pulled her close and they began to move. Sun darkened skin, salt, and sweat creating a liquid tart smoothness. The smell of sex and lust swirled around them. She locked her legs around his broad thighs and pulled him in, provoking his greater arousal. His already hard and rigid member spasmed violently and hardened further. It seemed to hunt her very center. She brought her arms around his neck and pushed her swollen breasts hard against his immense chest to ease their fire. Now was not the time for languorous fucking. That would come later in the Tane. She urged him on, hoarsely whispering a challenge into his ear between heaving breaths. He responded, quickening his pace and length, driving rapidly and savagely into her. He brought her feet up to his shoulders to get as deep as possible and unleashed a furious and unrelenting train of thrusts. His stamina was legend, but she knew him well and began to modulate her well-trained body to bring him. His eyes closed as he felt her work him deep within her, her massage matching his thrusts with equal aggression. At this point their carnality was in full raging bloom. She felt like a small delicate boat riding a hard unrelenting sea. His huge frame was now a seething ocean swell of glistening muscles and ropelike veins, undulating under and around her with primal intensity. Looking down through a haze of lust and sweat, she whimpered gratefully at the sight of his huge blood engorged sex violently incising her own. He was cresting now, his lightning thrusts coming in erratic groups. She felt his body tautening further and her own beginning to shimmer and instinctively adjusted her motion to deliver the finishing move. He gasped at the perfection of her maneuver, bucked violently, let out a tremendous roar and drove into her with a final explosive stroke. She climaxed uncontrollably as she felt the massive thickness of him expand deep inside. A blanket of warm wet pulsing fullness enveloped her as unceasing waves of his semen laved her core. Her nails sunk deep into the top of his back and her knees flared as she burrowed in to milk him completely. Trembling, he sank to his knees and lay back on the stone so she was now on top of him, the insides of her feet brushing his ears. She leaned forward to kiss him and their tongues danced with each other until, smiling, she bit his savagely until the rusty taste of his blood dripped along her lower lip. “I missed you” she whispered. He grinned awkwardly as he sucked on his tongue to staunch the flow. Bringing her legs back to sit astride him, she savored his gradually yielding organ, rocking gently back and forth as the overflow of his copious semen pooled with sweat on his groin. She raised herself up and watched as the seemingly endless length of his shaft was revealed, glistening, until finally, it fully emerged and fell to his stomach with a sound that punctuated its size and mass. She slid down his loins, tracing her tongue along the crevasses of muscles, and began the lengthy but not unpleasant process of cleaning up. As she lapped up the salty fruit of their labor she considered the rest of the day. A bath for the both of them, some lunch and a luxuriant nap in the sun, and then into the Tane for the remainder. .. |
| © 2003 River Barr | email: river_barr*at*yahoo.com |
She
jumped down the last eight feet from the rock face onto the terrace
with feline grace, her toned legs absorbing the fall with ease.
It had been her usual morning climb, 500 feet straight up the
crag wall behind her to the summit where she had been met by the
first rays of the morning sun. The climb down, equally strenuous
after the ascent, was eased by the warming of the rock. Riverwild
stood for a moment, naked, bathing in her own sweat and the now
strong sunshine that beat down on the terrace of her mountain
aerie.