Caveman Alien's Trap

by Calista Skye

  Then I’m up, Xark’on offers me his large hand, and I take it and step off the plank. “How did they build this house? Or even climb it?”

  “One tribesman named Raker’on climbed it first, using iron pegs that he hammered into the wood. He was cast out. It was a crime to do. The tree is sacred and not to be climbed. But it was realized that ridding the tribe of the irox threat was more than worth it, and then Raker’on was allowed to come back. He then built a small structure up here by himself before the rest of the tribe helped to build this house. Raker’on is an Ancestor now, and one of the tribe’s great heroes.”

  That kind of reminds me of someone I know. “Was he your father?”

  I have the satisfaction of seeing Xark’on’s jaw drop. “Yes! How did you know?”

  I stifle a laugh. Only someone related to Xark’on could have that kind of unconventional energy. “Just a guess.”

  Xark’on climbs up to his food stores, and I take a moment to marvel at the sunset over a jungle that stretches all the way to the horizon in every direction like a red-green ocean frozen in time. Not many have seen this view.

  Xark’on comes down with his arms full of food and gets busy with the fire while I take some of the veggies and start peeling and slicing with a knife that I find hanging on the wall.

  The wood in the hut creaks, the turkeypig slices are soon sizzling on the fire, and I’ve had a sudden inspiration to try stir-frying some roots that look nothing like potatoes but which taste a little like really sweet ones. If I’m right, this will become something that’s like a poor relative of french fries.

  I sit closer to Xark’on now. I’m a little unsure about the protocol. I haven’t sucked off that many cavemen before. I mean, I feel pretty sure I can now casually touch him while reaching for something beside him without having to apologize or give him a random smile for no particular reason or explanation. But leaning my head against his shoulder might be a little much. Or reaching for his cock just to feel its hardness and warmth in my hand again. Feels like we’d need to be even better friends before I can do that. And also, it’s my turn to be Worshipped now, and I want him to remember that.

  I’m sitting on the floor with my legs crossed, and I’m almost sure I can smell my juices, despite the recent bath. Maybe he can, too, and my pheromones will keep him aware that he has unfinished business.

  I don’t feel much of a need to talk, and it seems that neither does Xark’on. Still, this silence isn’t oppressive. Just… electric with expectation. Or maybe that’s just me.

  I notice Xark’on doesn’t take much care with the food, so I think he’s just as distracted as I am. I use a twig to spear a slice of turkeypig and then eat it straight from the slate that is Xark’on’s frying pan.

  “You know,” I say, chewing, “you can make very small shovels for your mouth, too. They’re called spoons. Another even more useful variety is called a fork. You can carve them from wood. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

  “For digging in the mouth?”

  “Um. No... They’re more for taking food from the plate and into your mouth. Instead of twigs.”

  “How would that work?”

  “It’s like the shovel. Imagine a shovel the size of this twig. Very small. So you dip it into a soup or something. You fill the bowl of the spoon with fluid. Then you very carefully lift it to your mouth and eat it.”

  “You eat the little shovel?” His eyes are large and round.

  “No, no. You eat what’s in it. The soup. Or whatever.”

  “That sounds far too complicated. Why use a little shovel when you can use a twig?”

  Yeah, this is uphill work. “It’s much more effective! Look, this twig can’t carry any liquid at all.”

  “It can carry some.”

  “Yeah, no. Look! It’s nothing.” I dip the twig into the cooking oil and hold it up so he can see that not much of it attaches to the twig.

  He shakes his head. “These are woman’s things, I think. A true warrior would prefer a twig.”

  “No. It’s for everyone.” I never thought this would be so hard.

  “And this little shovel of yours. How would you make it? It sounds far too complicated a thing.”

  I’m getting exasperated. “Complicated? A spoon? You made a shovel today, that’s much more difficult!”

  “Perhaps. But even so. I think I’ll stick to the old ways. But your description reminds me of something.” There’s a funny glint in his eyes as he reaches up to a shelf by the outer wall and takes something down.

  Then he holds out two caveman-sized wooden spoons. “Are these mysterious objects similar?”

  I gasp then cuff his shoulder, elated that he’s joking with me and relieved that he’s not a total idiot, after all. “You terrible man! You knew all along! And you had me make a fool of myself, trying to explain to you what a spoon is!”

  He smiles mischievously. “Even a simple warrior like me knows what a spoon is. But I enjoyed hearing your explanation. I like the way your voice sounds. Especially when you’re trying to stay polite when someone is being stupid. Well done.”

  I cuff him again just because I want to, and because it’s like punching a concrete wall wallpapered with warm silk. “I’ll never forgive you for this. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Oh,” he says, still with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Then I have just the thing.”

  He gets out the booze in the leather sack and offers it to me. This time, I’m prepared for the strong flavor. It’s not terrible, and I think maybe I’ll have an even better time later if I’m a little tipsy.

  We finish eating, and I’ve got butterflies in my stomach that the booze is only partly calming down. Xark’on tidies up and puts out the fire, and I walk around the treehouse to where his paintings are.

  It’s too dark to really see much, so I look out over the jungle, instead. Right about where Xark’on’s forge is, I can make out a tiny, flickering glow that I can only assume is the kiln where the pots are being fired. At least the fire is still going, but I don’t expect many of the pots to actually survive the firing.

  I hear Xark’on’s heavy but agile steps coming closer. He lights the torch on the wall, and then he’s standing right behind me, his huge hands on the railing on either side of me. He’s so close, I can feel something poking me at the small of my back. I think I can guess what that is, and my pussy is tingle city.

  “You Worshipped me there,” a deep voice growls into my ear. “By the forge. Our shaman told us about Worship. But not like that. He stated that the man would worship the woman. Was he wrong?”

  He’s giving me a way to get out of this if I want to. It speaks volumes about his integrity. But I don’t want out. I seriously, really don’t.

  “He was right,” I say, and my voice is hoarse. “Did he tell you how to do it?”

  “He did. I wonder if he was right about that, too.”

  “If only there was a way to find out.”

  “Perhaps,” he says thoughtfully, “there is.”

  “There is?”

  “Yes. If I Worship you, you can tell me if it’s the right way or not.”

  I scratch my head. “Huh. I suppose that might work.”

  He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around so I’m looking straight into the vivid green stripes on his chest. I crane my neck to look at his face, and he comes the other way and kisses me right on the mouth like before.

  I reach up and grab behind his neck, and then we’re frenching like there’s no tomorrow. He’s getting better at it, too. And now I realize that there’s definitely something weird with his tongue. The texture and the flexibility of that thing are quite unusual, and know I have to be dripping downstairs at the idea of having that thing there.

  Xark’on disengages with one final peck on my lips then hangs the hammock back where it was yesterday. He then effortlessly lifts me and sits me down in the middle of it so my legs dangle on one side and I can lay my upper body back comfortably.
r />   I sigh with pleasant expectation, and Xark’on gets the point. He’s in charge now.

  He pulls the hem of my dinosaur skin dress up, and I lift my hips so he can get it completely out of the way.

  I spread my legs to give him the full view, and then I enjoy his trembling intake of breath when he sees a pussy spread out in front of him for the first time. I hope he understands that it hasn’t seen a razor for months. On the other hand, he has nothing to compare it to, and somehow that makes me more confident.

  The moment doesn’t last long before he gets on his knees on the floor, pushes my knees further apart, and dives right in.

  I twitch at the first touch of his hot, wet tongue. He has the sense to not go straight for the clit, but to start at the side and work his way in.

  I assume that’s his plan, anyway. I’d be fine with anything, pretty much. Those wet noises from down there isn’t all him. I must be dripping.

  Gods, it’s been a long time since anyone did this for me. I can’t even remember. And mostly, it was a half-hearted attempt to turn me on before the guy felt he had earned putting his dick in me.

  No, I don’t want to think about those times. This is completely differen—

  “Oh!” I can’t help myself when Xark’on’s warm tongue swipes across my clit, setting off a shower of wonderful little sparks. Then, he concentrates on the inner labia, and they’re almost as sensitive. Gods, I never knew my pussy could feel like this. Every part of it is electric now.

  Part of that is the fact that I haven’t had much going on there for too long, so this feels fresh and new. Another part is that I’m being eaten out by an actual alien. A huge and strong one that obviously thinks that I’m attractive in a way that he can’t hide, because that cock of his has been almost permanently hard since I met him.

  “Oh my goooood …” He’s playing around the opening, but then he swipes across the clit again, and I buck on the hammock. How many tongues does he have?

  Yeah, I can’t keep track of what he’s doing down there. He’s all over the place in the best way possible. The texture of his tongue is definitely special. As if it was made for the one purpose of caressing my girly parts and making them feel red-hot. He concentrates on one little spot at a time, while at the same time making sure the rest of my pussy doesn’t feel neglected, just excited for the attention.

  It’s all building up to something big, that’s for sure. My whole pelvis is starting to feel hot and liquid as Xark’on takes more and more control as he gains confidence. I’m moaning uncontrollably now, but that’s fine. Nobody can hear us here.

  That sudden realization makes me even louder. When was the last time I could just let loose? That’s never happened. There’s always been a reason to keep it down. Roommates or neighbors or parents. Now I’m two hundred feet up in the air on an alien planet. If ever there was a time to let myself be as loud as I want, this is it. “Oooooohhh yeahhhhhhhh!”

  I thrust my pussy up, wanting Xark’on to focus on my clit, because now I really need to cum, and that’ll absolutely do it.

  He’s not taking the bait, just keeps doing his thing. He’s showing me that he’s in charge and I’m not.

  That makes it all so much hotter. I have no power here.

  I buck again, because I have no choice.

  Fuck, this can’t really be his first time, can it? If it is, his shaman deserves some kind of award. Because this guy knows exactly what he’s doing.

  I whimper in both delight and frustration. I need to cum now. My pussy feels like a bottle of soda that’s been shaken so hard it’s just waiting to explode as soon as the cork is off.

  Then he licks across my clit again, and I jerk hard.

  And then he doesn’t take his tongue off it, and he keeps rotating around it with perfect pressure, and that little thing just sets me off, and I scream and thrash on the hammock as the orgasm rolls through me.

  I finally curl up in the hammock, totally spent. Gods, that was insane.

  Xark’on is standing at the railing, leaning at it with his massive arms crossed over his chest and a pretty satisfied look on his face. And heck, he’s earned that look. He just made an alien woman come hard on the first try, needing no pointers.

  “Yes,” I state before I have to stifle a yawn. “Your shaman was right.”

  Xark’on chuckles. “Then at least he was right about one thing.”

  - - -

  The next morning, I’m not woken by a dactyl screaming but by being completely rested and refreshed. Xark’on is asleep on a not-sheep rug on the floor. This hammock was totally his own bed, and he gave it to me without a second thought.

  I get up and stretch luxuriously, taking a sip of water from the leather pouch on the wall. This really isn’t a bad life.

  Then I stand at the railing and just marvel at the view as the fresh rays from the rising sun give the green jungle a reddish glow.

  There’s a slight breeze that makes the wood in the hut creak, and the smell of the jungle is less oppressive up here, the air so much fresher. I walk slowly around the treehouse, feeling the sheer mass of the tree trunk behind me, so alive and still so solid. In front of me is the jungle and Xren. From up here, I’m not part of it. I’m above it, separate from it. I like the feeling.

  And soon, I’m looking straight at Bune. Behind it or to the side somewhere is the cave with the girls. I wish they were here. But I don’t wish I was there. Not right now.

  The almost horizontal rays of the sun are throwing long shadows and drawing strange patterns in the treetops. And now that I know where to look, I can see Troga’s trench. It’s a thin, dark line in the orange-green. Not just a line—it’s a pattern of some kind. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, as far as I can tell. It’s a little like a spider’s nest, except it appears random and chaotic, not neat and orderly. Most of all, it reminds me of a maze. Mostly dead ends, but there must be a way to make your way to the center of it.

  And there, close to the middle, an undisturbed star-shaped patch of jungle where there’s no line. Each point of the star reaches far out into the jungle. The dragon’s maze seems to be dug into the ground around it. It is a hill, perhaps? What’s there? The dragon’s lair?

  A shiver goes down my back. Partly from the morning chill, partly from the idea of stumbling upon Troga in her lair. One of the arms of the star stretches far in this direction. It can't be far from the trap site.

  No, that doesn’t feel right, somehow. I don’t think it’s a lair. That huge, seven-pointed star in the middle is something else. Maybe her fire can’t burn the soil there.

  I squint in the early morning light. One of the lines that is her trench seems to go off into the distance. A line of burned soil, leading away, cutting over hills and diving into valleys, as straight as a ruler, without veering as much as one degree off course.

  And it’s going directly towards Bune.

  That has to be where she came from.

  The next moment, the sun has risen a fraction more, and the lines are gone.

  “Caroline is up early.”

  Xark’on’s voice makes my lungs tremble. God, that’s a bass if ever I heard one. With extra gravel in the morning, and somehow that just makes it sound better.

  “Xark’on is up early, too,” I observe as he saunters towards me.

  He has a glint in his violet eyes.

  He smirks at me. “The day is starting. I’m eager to try my tool in the hole.”

  Of course, the words send tingles right to my pussy. And sure enough, he has a very telling bulge in his pants again.

  “You are, huh? Which hole and which tool?”

  He looks me up and down. “A few options come to mind.”

  I arch my back in an unashamed attempt to make my unimpressive chest stand out. “I’m sure they do, warrior. And who knows? There might be more holes in your future. But now, I think you should concentrate on one of them. The one you focused on yesterday.”

  His bulge twitches, and his pants
creak. “That was my intention.”

  I stare unashamedly at his crotch. “Because you do have a very big tool now.”

  He leans over the railing next to me, supporting himself on his elbows. “Thanks to you.”

  “And the hole is very much in need of the tool.” Did I just say that?

  “Is it?”

  “It is.”

  “So that it may become larger?”

  “I think it will have no choice.”

  “That was my plan. Though, I don’t mind small holes.”

  If I’d been wearing panties, they’d be soaked through by now. “I hope you know how to use your tool.”

  “If my skill is less than ideal, perhaps you will instruct me in its use.”

  “Perhaps.” My throat is dry with arousal.

  He straightens and grabs the shovel next to him, running his finger along the edge of the blade. “Because it is very new to me, this tool. And you’ve seen these things being used, I think.”

  “I’ve seen many things being used, Xark’on. Now including your very talented mouth.”

  “Hm. Yes. I suppose I must have a hidden talent. Are women always making those noises when being Worshipped?”

  “Only if it’s done well.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “I like those noises. I will do it well every time. Is it possible to do it more than once?”

  “It is. Perhaps wait a little between each time. It’s very wonderful for the woman, but also very exhausting. What were you doing during the night when I was asleep?” I nod to his hands, which are stained with colors.

  “You were asleep after the Worship, but I was quite awake and excited after the experience. I felt the need to start another painting.”

  “Really? What did you paint?”

  He scratches his chin and looks shyly away. “I think I won’t tell you. It’s not finished and not very good.”

  “Uh-huh.” If eating me out inspired him to paint, and he’s too embarrassed to show it to me, then I think there’s a good chance this innocent planet now can celebrate its first pornography. With me as the first pornstar.