Erotic Tales of the Nyphrazi - Complete 7 Part Series

by Minky St Anne

  He empties the whole thing slowly and directly on target although I manage to avoid the worst of the damage by squeezing myself together as hard as I can. Not easy when you’ve been opened to the elements.

  While my clit is beside itself with glee, I’m less impressed.

  Sure I haven’t had sex since moving home, but this is not how I expected to break the dating drought.

  When he tsks several times, my first thought is that he’s talking to the wooden hands again, but then I realize this admonishment is directed at me.

  “Stop fighting it.”

  I have trouble concentrating on this instruction. “Get your hand away from my tits!”

  He ignores me and tugs on first one nipple and then the other until I’m hard enough to take someone’s eye out.

  “If you think I’m just going to lie here and take it, think again buddy.”

  “Vyran.”

  “What?”

  “I am Vyran, Nyphrazi God of the Woods.” That he follows this with a questioning lift of one of his eyebrows lets me know that this is where I’m meant to introduce myself. Tough.

  Realizing he’s not going to get a response, he again chats to his grabby pals swirling around in the water next to me. They act with enthusiasm.

  “What? You are fucking joking?” I spit out at Vyran. “Nooooooo!”

  None of my yelling stops two of the hands from sliding up between my thighs. They’re soon buried deep in my cleft and make short work of spreading my lips to the sides. One of them even manages to get in a quick flick to my cherry pip that has the dirty little slut humming away to herself as though we’re separate entities. While I’m still fighting it, she’s already rolled over.

  We’re reunited when another rivulet of water rains down on her, I mean me. The thin stream of water drills into me but when Vyran lifts the jug higher still, the water separates into droplets, each of them landing like a small bullet of pleasure.

  This time, I’m as disappointed as Vyran when he runs out of water.

  “You like?” His voice is deep, his words a statement rather than a question.

  I’m too far gone to fight it and only an idiot couldn’t see I’m ready to explode into a million pieces. “Oh, god, yes!” I manage to choke out.

  While he re-fills the jug, he chatters away in that strange language of his, resulting in two of the hands sliding up each side of my chest and cupping my breasts before rolling my nipples backwards and forwards. That they have the dexterity of human hands is freaking me out considerably and if I wasn’t so damned aroused, I’d be losing it completely. As it is, I don’t know which part of my body to focus on. Certainly my hair is the cleanest it’s been since I started work at the fish plant. My clit is soon fighting for supremacy on that front when the jug is once against emptied onto it.

  One drop at a time.

  I can’t believe this; I’m out of my mind with ecstasy and arch wildly when he slides first one and then two fingers deep inside of me. He spreads these wide, giving me a feeling of fullness, before applying pressure to the small nub nestled just inside. I disintegrate, with the climax so strong I can feel the water rippling around me.

  About now, most dates would be expecting me to return the favor. It seems Vyran is different, leaving his fingers buried deep inside of me until the last of my spasms die away. He then starts moving them again, slowly pulling them almost free before plunging them back into me again as deep as he can go, and wriggling them for maximum effect.

  This in-and-out is a poor imitation of what I’d really like him to be doing to me and the next climax is slower to tighten, but tighten it does until I’m keening for release. This is achieved when Vyran presses my clit until I explode, with every nerve ending in my body screaming right along with me.

  After a thorough rinsing, I’m only vaguely aware of the hands that have been plastered all over my body, sliding down to once again support me. They raise me out of the water before forming themselves back into a table where Vyran helps me sit upright before swinging my legs over the side.

  “I hope you don’t expect me to walk?”

  He chuckles before sliding me towards the edge of the table where he then tucks my ankles around behind his back. I automatically hook them together and I can feel his leather-clad cock snug in my cleft, filling it from top to bottom. His big hands, cradling my ass, pull to each side so that I’m even more open to him.

  I reach around his back trying desperately to untie the leather cord that is the only thing between me and what I hope will be mind-blowing sex. I’m still struggling with the knot when he carries me out of the light and into the gloom of what is definitely a cave. The dark is absolute after the brightness of the pool of light and because I’m looking backwards over his shoulder I have no idea where we’re heading.

  We walk between curtains that appear to be made out of animal skins and into a cavern that is lit by smoking tapers; the bed I see out the corner of my eye is massive and covered in animal pelts. The sight of this has me momentarily forgetting the cord, my vagina tightening in anticipation at thoughts of lying on all that fur with Vyran.

  After using a chamois to dry me and wrap my hair, he lays me gently back on the bed and I luxuriate in the feel of the pelts rubbing against my naked skin. I slide easily when he drags me far enough down the bed that my legs hang over the end. He then kneels on the ground and settles himself between my thighs. Hell, it’s like he can read my mind.

  It’s only when I see him lick his lips that I realize he’s not human.

  His tongue is far too long and comes to a wicked point. When I see the control he has over it I’m both horrified and aroused in turn.

  Pushing my knees apart, he drops his head and attacks me like a starving man. Any reservations about him being an alien, or whatever the hell he is, gasp out of me. Oh, good god, that tongue might be foreign, but it’s also magic. I try grabbing hold of the furs surrounding me to anchor myself to the bed, but they’re too thick and I can’t grip them properly.

  After running his tongue up and down my slit until I’m arching up off the bed, he pokes it right inside of me. I can feel the tip twisting around exploring every inch of me until my juices are running more freely than they ever have.

  “More,” I groan, “More.”

  I’m lucky he seems to know what I want more of because he sucks hard on my nubbin while plunging his fingers into me untiringly, sending me over the edge, again and again.

  And here I was thinking multiple orgasms were an urban myth.

  But it’s official; I’ve had more orgasms in these caves than I have in all my years of dating. I’m not counting the faked ones that were necessary when a date was so far off the mark that it was never going to happen and I all I wanted to do was to go to sleep.

  I feel like sex personified lying there with legs spread wide, arms flung high above my head thinking about the sensations that leather condom are going able to impart with each plunge. At least, I hope to hell he keeps it on. Just thinking about it has my sex twitching in anticipation.

  It’s like having a bucket of cold water chucked over me when, rather than join me, he slides me up the bed, covers me with furs and leaves me lying there on my own.

  “What the hell? Where are you going?”

  “You must rest before we carry on.”

  “I don’t need a rest!” I yell at him as he disappears back through the curtains that cover the door. “I need a fuck!”

  Chapter Four

  Damn it all, what is wrong with me? While my libido has never been what I’d call rampant, now I’m at the other end of the spectrum. All I have to do is think about Vyran and my sex lights up along with any other erogenous zones on offer.

  Thumping my hands down on the bed in frustration doesn’t bring him back and only leaves me angry as well as horny and hungry and thirsty and needing to pee. I’m suffering from all the wants and needs, but horny wins out.

  Damn him to hell.

  I thi
nk about having a scout around to see if there’s a way out, but there’s the small fact that I’m naked. I’m looking at the hide curtain that covers the doorway as a possible solution, when I hear footsteps. I lean up in bed ready to give him a burst for abandoning me, but it’s not him, it’s an old woman. She looks to be human but I’m reserving judgment until I see her tongue.

  Dressed in a sheath dress that looks to be made of chamois, she holds a wooden platter out in front of her. Without looking at me or even speaking, she quickly crosses the chamber and drops the tray on a small table that sits next to the bed. She turns to leave and is close to running when I yell “Stop!”

  She skids to a stop in a move reminiscent of a cartoon character before turning back towards me. Her head is bowed and she’s trembling.

  “Bathroom?”

  She shakes her head, but still doesn’t look at me so I have no idea if she’s shaking her head because she doesn’t understand me, or because there isn’t a bathroom. Maybe they don’t need to pee?

  “Toilet?” I’m unable to keep the desperation out of my voice this time, causing her to lift her head slightly.

  Realizing I’m wasting my time with English, I jump out of bed, cross my legs and hop around in what I hope is the intergalactic signal for needing to use the bathroom. My bladder is now full enough that I’m not faking this charade and I’m exceptionally relieved when she nods and indicates that I should follow her. It’s only when I’m standing right next to her that she seems to realize I’m naked. She holds her hand up before disappearing through the curtains.

  I hope to hell she’s coming back otherwise I’m going to have to pee in a corner or risk streaking through the caverns until I find something that resembles a toilet. At this point, anything, even the bowl on the tray that’s over-flowing with berries, would do.

  On hearing movement on the other side of the leather curtain, I breathe a sigh of relief although I don’t relax my pelvic floor muscles. She hands a pile of soft chamois over to me and I waste no time, pulling it on, tightening the leather thong above my breasts and indicating she should lead on.

  She shows me to a small room off the chamber where I’d been ‘washed’ earlier and nods at a hole in the ground with footplates on either side. It’s the first squat toilet I’ve seen since a whirlwind trip around Europe in my gap year although it’s a hell of a lot cleaner than any I used back then. I waste no time and am soon back in the bed chamber where I fall on the food and drink with zeal.

  Replete and my nakedness covered, I feel free to wander back through to the bathing chamber to have a good look around, but there aren’t any doorways other than those I’ve already used. The old girl is nowhere in sight either which is weird. My examination of all the walls is thorough but it doesn’t show up any hidden entrances. How the hell did she get to me? Maybe she teleported through the hole above the table of hands because I doubt she walked through solid rock.

  With nowhere else left to check, I lie on the bed and wonder when I’ll see Vyran again. I’m not as turned-on as I was, but I’m not ready to sleep either. I can’t help but wonder what he is too. Obviously he’s humanoid although definitely not human. Does he come from this planet or from somewhere else entirely? Given the primitive living conditions it seems hard to believe he arrived here in anything as sophisticated as a flying saucer. Then there’s the way he can control wood. Just thinking about that has me shivering with remembered passion.

  I eventually fall asleep, but my dreams are disturbing and occasionally nightmarish. The one where I discover the end of Vyran’s penis is similar in shape and abilities to the end of his tongue has me aroused enough that I wake up and have to manually relieve some of the pressure.

  Next time I wake it’s because of the pleasure being exacted on me by Vyran. He’s kneeling beside the bed, his face is buried deep in my mons and he’s pulling on my clit like he’s a drunk and I’m the last drink on the planet. I thrust my hips in an effort to give him better access and he groans before spinning me around on the bed, dragging me closer to his mouth and plunging that wicked tongue of his in and out until I’m frothing.

  But rather than let me reach fulfillment he kneels back so he can look down at me, his obvious arousal enough to keep me on the edge of climax even though he’s no longer touching me.

  His cock appears to be straining for gratification as much as I am. Maybe it’s the dim light or my less than 20/20 vision, but it looks as though the patterns and ridges on the leather condom are swirling. It’s as though they’re alive. This is something that’s confirmed when he lowers himself onto me so he can rub the length of it up and down my furrow.

  “Do you plan on taking that off?” It’s only when I’ve asked this out loud that I admit to myself what I want the answer to be.

  “You mean my fettyr?” He says kneeling back again and tapping his cock for confirmation. This causes it to buck hard against the cord like a wild beast. “I never remove this. Ever”

  I know my eyes have gone a little deer-in-the-headlights as I explore the possibilities of sex with it still in place. With all those ridges and patterns, it could be mind-blowing, if a little scary on the length and girth side of things.

  I can hear my girly bits chanting, “On! On! On!” faintly in the background.

  When I see a knife in his hand it cuts through my haze of arousal, but rather than feeling a stab of pain in some weird alien love act, he hacks through the leather thong around his waist. Freed, his cock snaps away from his body and the swirling of the bumps and lumps of the engravings speeds up.

  “Oh, my.”

  Other bits of me aren’t as subdued in their response. My sex thumps in time with my heart and that’s nowhere near as slow as it was before he cut that restraining cord.

  I don’t hesitate, before wrapping my legs around his waist and propelling him forward, but rather than lie down and plunge himself into me as I’ve been hoping, he unhooks my legs and rolls me over so my front is being caressed by soft fur. He then stands and drags me up onto my hands and knees, and precariously close to the edge of the bed.

  This isn’t what I want; this isn’t how I want him. I try to turn back around to face him but his hands on my hips hold me firmly in place.

  I’m still squirming when he leans over and whispers into my ear. “Hold still, it has to be this way for the fettyr’s lacing to work.”

  I’m still trying to work out what the fuck he means when he spreads me wide with his fingers and enters me slowly without pause. My relief that he’s entered my vagina rather than where I thought he was aiming for is forgotten when the lacing starts to clatter its way over my g-spot winding me ever tighter with each row of eyelets. This, along with the ridges and patterns of the fettyr swirling and undulating, make it feel like his cock is trying to burrow its way into my depths.

  The sensation is over-whelming.

  When he slides his hands around in front of me and strokes and flicks my pearl repeatedly, I’m a shuddering mess in an instant. An orgasm rips through me and I’m unable to stop slamming myself back into him again and again, my body jerking out of control.

  We drop drunkenly to the bed, but he manages to hold my hips high, so he’s still fully imbedded in my depths. I wait to feel him soften and withdraw, but it doesn’t happen. It takes a second or two before I realize I can still feel him burrowing deeper inside me even though his body rests quietly against mine. What starts out gently soon accelerates until the ridges and patterns of his fettyr seem to be more pronounced and hitting all the right spots and I can feel him nudging at my womb. As my breathing speeds up, so does the movement of the patterns, causing Vyran to laugh softly into my ear.

  “Why don’t you try panting or humming,” he suggests, his voice thick with passion.

  I don’t need to be told twice.

  I keep control over the movement of the embellishments for as long as I can, but this proves impossible when I lose my ability to breath with any semblance of rhythm. Vyran pull
s himself free with agonizing slowness and then flips me over and back down onto the furs. In what I suspect is a practiced move, he then slides right back in and up to the hilt until I can feel his leather covered scrotum hard up against my ass.

  This fullness and contact only increases when I put my feet up over his shoulders.

  “More?” he says?

  “More!”

  He withdraws until he’s close to pulling out, before plunging in again, and grinding slowly.

  This slow fuck keeps going and going until I’m panting like a la mars student in an effort to prolong things, but when he speeds up, thrusting into me faster and faster, I shatter harder than I ever have before. I’m losing consciousness when I hear his roar of release.

  Chapter Five

  I awake, alone. Again. This is becoming fucking tedious. The only difference this time is that I can see my clothes washed and folded, and in a neat pile on the end of the bed. When I lean over the side, I spot my boots sitting on the floor. They’ve been polished. Hell, I don’t think they were this shiny when new.

  Grabbing my chamois sheath off the floor, I slip it on and pop through to use the bathroom. Back in the bed chamber, I make use of a bowl of water and a cloth to wash myself down before dressing as I’m obviously supposed to, although it hardly seems worth it.

  “Now what?” I say to the empty room.

  It’s not empty for long. The old lady from the previous day makes an appearance and indicates that I should follow her and be quick about it. Good, I’m craving Vyran’s presence again. The man is like a drug to me.

  Following her, we walk through the bathing cavern and then through an archway that definitely hadn’t been there when I’d examined the cavern thoroughly the day before. The next chamber is bare of any furniture but leather curtains cover an arch opposite where we’ve entered. Stepping to one side, she bows again and again, all the while gesturing wildly towards the hides hanging from a pole set over the head of the arch.