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Kachina 2/2 (mf)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: Sue's 20th: Kachina 2/2 (mf)
Date: Thu Jun 29 07:25:38 1995
I awoke in the middle of the night with the urgent need to relieve my
bladder. When I returned to my sleeping bag, I sat up and looked out over the
bowl-shaped valley laid out in front of me. It was bathed in the silvery
light of the full moon, and stars by the billions twinkled in the velvet
black sky. As the evening passed into night, the temperature had dropped, and
I found myself huddling into the down-filled nylon. Too bad, I thought, that
there were no bits of wood up here in the cave for me to make a fire. I was
just starting to feel the heaviness of sleep begin to return when, out of the
corner of my eyes, I thought I saw something move. But when I turned toward
the cave's wall, I couldn't see anything unusual. Then again, I was confused
by my memory of the cave paintings that I had seen the evening before. Where
I recalled seeing the stick-figure warrior with his cock hanging down..., now
there was only bare rock.
Suddenly, the light from the moon was blocked out by a form at the mouth of
the cave. A jolt of fear struck at my solar plexus, and my breath caught in
my throat. I was maybe 50 miles from any kind of civilization, and the few
other people that were vacationing on the lake were probably far away. There
was no help to be had if I was in danger from this intruder, whether it was
an animal or a human. My eyes focused on the silhouette, and now I could see
that it was indeed a person. The particular thing I noticed was that he had a
huge head. As my eyes further resolved the details of the shapes, it came to
me all-at-once that it was not just his head, or even a hat. It was some sort
of Indian head-dress, studded with stiff feathers and bits of fur,
surrounding but not covering his shadowed face.
The man entered further into the cave, and stood a few feet from the end of
my sleeping bag. With the moonlight now shining onto him, I could now be
certain that he was indeed an Indian, with the round-faced appearance of one
of the Pueblo dwellers that have descended from the Anasazi. These are
wonderfully peaceful and honorable peoples, and this recognition helped put
me more at ease. But I was still left wondering how he had found me in this
dark and isolated wilderness. If he was nearby this afternoon, had he watch
me dance and masturbate, exposing my body not only to the sun, but perhaps
his prying eyes?
In addition to his headdress, he was wearing only two other articles of
clothing. Covering his chest was a vest made of many narrow horizontal white
bars, perhaps made of bone or wood. They formed a kind of washboard pattern
from his neck to his belly. And covering his crotch was a loose loin cloth,
barely covering his drooping genitals. In the moonlight, everything appeared
in degrees of black, gray and white, disguising the vibrant colors that would
normally be seen in this ceremonial costume. Everything about him spoke of
strength and serenity. He stood over my body with an erect stance, arms
crossed over his chest. His physique was magnificent, arms and legs sculpted
with long, full muscles. And his eyes bore directly into mine, silently
communicating to me that I was safe with this stranger, despite the unusual
and threatening circumstances of his arrival. Instinctively, without
reservation, I let go of my fears, and opened my heart and my trust.
Despite the warm thoughts that filled me, I was still feeling the cold of the
night air, and I wondered how the barefoot Indian could keep from shivering.
Was he reading my mind? One of his arms stretched out straight and pointed to
a spot on the ground about 6 feet from me. Instantly, a perfect campfire
sprung to life where there had only been cold hard stone! Flames licked
upwards from the small logs, piled tepee-fashion. Heat immediately struck
against my cheek, and I reveled in both the miracle and the warmth. This was
no ordinary stranger wandering into my campsite. I struggled to make sense of
this magic, and then I recalled that one of the images from the cave
paintings was missing from where I thought it should be. It seemed impossible
to my logical mind, but the deeper truth was obvious. An ancestral Anasazi
spirit-god had come back to life, and I dredged from my scatter-brained
memory the name for these spirits: Kachina. I had seen pictures of these in a
coffee-table book at Ellen's. In the light of the full-moon, in this cave
hidden in the wild desert mesas of Glen Canyon, there stood before me a
beautiful and stalwart Kachina, freed after a thousand years from his frozen
stick-figure likeness on the cave wall.
While all these amazing realizations washed over me, the Kachina still stood
with his finger pointed at the blazing fire, as if his organic energy was
feeding the flames. Now his extended arm swept back over to my reclining
body, joined by his other arm so that his palms were pressed together. After
a long pause his palms hinged open. I could tell that he was trying to
communicate something to me, but I couldn't interpret his sign language. When
he repeated it, I was still unsure, but somehow, I inferred that he was
suggesting that I take off my sleeping bag. Perhaps my initial suspicion was
at least partly correct; from his two-dimensional presence on the cave wall,
he might have watched me masturbating the previous afternoon. Could this
episode somehow have given him the strength he needed to reanimate himself? I
might have been misunderstanding what he was asking for with his body
language, but I went on my gut instinct, taking the chance that I might be
disrespectful to the Kachina. I unzipped the sleeping bag and spread it wide
open, just as his palms had separated. I held myself up by placing my hands
behind me on the ground. Answering his serene stare with my own, I thought
perhaps I saw some little sparks dancing in the black irises of his eyes.
Certainly there was no disapproval for my brazen action of disrobing
completely.
Again, the Kachina repeated his signal of opening his palms, and I responded
by letting my knees rise up off the ground toward my chest, and then fall
away from each other. My two thighs were now angled outwards from my hips,
forming a single straight line of golden flesh, broken only by the central
nexus of my sparsely-furred cunt. My eyes remained locked on his gaze, as it
calmly slid from my face, down over my breasts (which were thrust forwards by
my posture), and over my taut tummy. Finally, I knew that he was staring
right into my cunt. Without looking myself, I knew that my outer labia were
pulled apart, for the dry air lapped its cold tongue at the tangy moisture of
my fully exposed inner cunt.
Up to this point, I had been acting completely in response to the Kachina's
wishes. After all, he was practically a god, and I was stunned by the magic
of making the campfire appear. But it is not much in my nature to be at all
submissive, even to the power of the supernatural. I wanted to be on more
equal ground, here in the real world of living humans. Now it was my turn to
try to communicate by sign language. I put a hand up in front of my face and
crooked my finger repeatedly, beckoning him to come closer. This must be a
universal, age-old signal, for he immediately reacted by closing the gap
between us in two long strides. He now stood right between my wide-spread
thighs, his arms again crossed over his chest. I leaned forwards and grabbed
the backs of his hard-muscled thighs, and nuzzled my face into his crotch. He
was still not at all erect but I forgave him since he had been out of
practice for so long! And the potential was there, for his loin-cloth was
bulging with its spongy contents.
I wanted to get a response from him, so I began to lick up the surfaces of
his thighs, and also his tight stomach. All of his skin was completely
without any body hair. I guess that this is often true of Native Americans. I
found it an unexpected and sensual pleasure to run my tongue over this
velvety smoothness. I let my hands move upwards to the cheeks of his ass,
small and rock-hard, fitting into my palms. Then I found the knot on one of
his hips, and it came apart easily, letting the loin-cloth fall abruptly into
a pile at his feet. Inches from my face, his cock hung down loosely, draping
over his hairless balls. Of course, he was uncircumcised, which I find all
too rarely in the rest of the world. I enjoy the slithery feel of the loose
skin sliding over the rubbery shaft. I immediately used one hand to pull his
cock up toward my hungry mouth, and took the covered head between my lips. My
tongue stabbed at the foreskin, and I found the opening that allowed me to
get my tongue under the skin, where I swirled it around, swabbing at the
sensitive flesh. I firmed up my grip on the base of his cock , and my other
hand came around and cupped around his balls. They were so big and swollen.
In the nest of supple flesh, each solid testicle felt like the egg of a bald
eagle, full and potent.
As I sucked and fondled with increasing vigor, the Kachina's cock finally
began to fill with his hot blood, inflating itself within the tight hold of
my mouth. Bigger and bigger, hotter and hotter. The foreskin couldn't cloak
the rising column anymore, and it pulled back off the head of his cock. I
pulled my mouth off for a moment so that I could see what I had inspired. His
cock was now fully erect, as long as any I had ever seen, with a broad glans
that looked golden in the flickering light of the fire. I couldn't resist for
long, and I again enveloped his cock in my greedy mouth, stretching my jaws
to accommodate his girth.
But the Kachina stopped me after a few moments of my eager sucking, and he
sank to his knees between my splayed thighs. He reached down to grab and lift
my hips up to his groin, and I felt almost weightless in his powerful cradle.
I thought he was preparing to drive his spear deep into my waiting flesh, and
I took a deep breath of the desert air, hoping to gird myself for the
penetration of his immense cock. But instead, he laid his cock onto the top
of my cunt, embedding the length of it between my puffy labia, with the fat
head resting directly onto the rubbery stub of my clitoris. He twitched his
hips back and forth a few times, in an obvious attempt to prod my clit, but
the upward arch of his cock made it difficult to apply pressure downwards.
With a grunt of frustration, he made it clear to me that it was vitally
important to him that I have my climax too. Perhaps he had learned from
watching me masturbate.
He lifted my hips up even higher, and I realized that I didn't need to push
upwards with my hands under my ass -- his strength was more than enough to
support my body. I hooked my legs up over his hips, and I brought my hands up
to my cunt, where I could push his cock down onto my clitoris. Keeping his
own body perfectly still, he manipulated my body away from his groin and then
allowed me to pull myself back into him with my legs, so that the ridge at
the edge of his cock-head scraped over my clit repeatedly. I let the length
of my fingers envelop his shaft, taking advantage of the lubrication that was
seeping out of my cunt and from the tip of his cock. Each time that the
protruding rim bumped over my erect clit, I grunted with unrestrained lust,
and once again I could hear the eerie echo reflected back from across the
canyon. The stimulation of having my cunt massaged, along with the mysterious
circumstances of having this enchanting Kachina to arouse me..., it made me
shudder in the magic of the moment, and I began to shimmy and writhe,
insisting on increasing the pace of the action as my orgasm rose up like a
serpent from deep in my belly, fed by the same energy that the Kachina used
to ignite the camp-fire. When the height of my climax welled up in me, I felt
every muscle in my body quaking and shivering, and I let out a high-pitched
howl that imitated the shrieks of coyotes.
While I was still near the peak of my orgasm, the Kachina pulled his cock out
from the slippery grip of my fingers, and pulling back, he aimed his flaming
arrow at the gaping target of my sopping vagina. Then again, he became still
as a stone sculpture, and he used his grip on my hips to draw me closer,
slowly impaling me. Even slower than slow, quarter-inch by quarter-inch. The
immense width of his cock head stretched my swollen cunt lips, and I tried to
relax my inner vaginal muscles to make room for the welcome invader. When the
ridge of the head finally passed the entrance, things became easier, and I
focused on the sensation of absolute fullness as I tried to suck the
Kachina's magnificent cock further in. I was impatient with this relentless
deliberate procrastination. But as much as I tried to pull myself in onto him
with my straining legs, I was constrained by his gentle but firm grasp on my
ass cheeks. Finally, I relented, and allowed him to set the relentlessly slow
pace. When he was perhaps two-thirds of the way in, I felt his huge cock head
bump into my cervix, and I suddenly become worried that I wouldn't be able to
entirely accommodate his incredible dimensions. My hands, which were still
resting on my cunt, came up to rest flat on his stomach, telling him to stop.
He responded by letting one hand loose from my ass. Leaning forward, he
placed it to one side of his head, and then he repeated this with the other
hand. Only my legs hooked over his hips held my cunt up and onto his cock. I
made this position more secure by hooking my ankles together behind his lower
back, and my hands wrapped together behind his neck. Normally, I wouldn't
have the strength to hold myself up like this for very long, but that night,
I felt like I weighed only a few ounces, and the image that came to mind was
my being a butterfly, with my legs and arms like the feathery wings wrapped
around the Kachina's body. I pulled my breasts up into the hard material of
his ceremonial breast plate, stimulating the sensitive pegs of my nipples
against the washboard texture.
Once again, the Kachina braced his body into utter stillness, and he allowed
me to set the pace and depth of his penetration. I let my hips fall enough to
expose almost all of his cock, and then I lifted back up, again bottoming
out, but perhaps taking in just a bit more than last time. His balls bumped
into my rising ass, tickling over my widespread anus. Again down and back up,
and this time, I almost took all of his long spear into my stretched cunt.
One more time, and this time, my puffy cunt lips collided with his hairless
crotch, and his balls squeezed insistently into my the crease of my ass.
Now that I had let my cunt gradually expand, I felt wonderfully full, and
totally connected with the quintessence of the Kachina's ancient wisdom. I
wanted desperately to please this Indian god-warrior, so I began to fuck my
cunt up and down on his hard pole of hot flesh. I started slowly, but soon my
pace quickened and I found myself flipping my hips up into his crotch like
the piston in the engine of a sports car. I clenched down rhythmically with
my vaginal muscles. Even without moving, he was obviously exerting himself,
for sweat was now seeping from his pores, collecting in rivulets that
streaked down his golden skin and dripped down onto my heaving body,
intermingling with my own perspiration. My mouth was already wide open as I
gulped in the air, and when one of his droplets of sweat fell between my
lips, I noticed that it tasted sweet and fresh, so I added to my ardent
lovemaking by lapping the profuse moisture off his shoulders and neck and
face. It tasted delicious, like maple sap in the Spring in my native New
England, and I swallowed up as much as he could give me. The feathers of his
headdress began to quiver noticeably, and I knew that my bold and lusty dance
on his body was having the intended affect. Despite his attempt at stillness,
his undeniable carnal urges were taking over the spiritual equanimity that
was so familiar to him.
Suddenly, he let those urges take over, and he pushed forwards and down, so
that my back and ass again rested on the firm surface of my sleeping bag. His
hands came down to my hips, and he dug his fingers into my pliant ass cheeks.
Now he was driving his cock into me, and his weight held me down. He showed
no restraint at all, and I was glad that I had been given the opportunity to
become accustomed to his huge size. For once, I let go of my hesitation to be
submissive. I allowed myself to be the receptive vessel for him to fill with
the insistent thrusts of his cock.
After all the Kachina's patience leading up to this moment, he now was as
eager and ardent as a young virgin, and it took only a minute or so of his
unfettered fucking for him to reach his orgasm. Suddenly, he was coming, and
he drove his cock one last time, deeper than ever. His muscles all tightened
like the strings of his hunting bows, and his eyes were screwed shut
fiercely. Deep in the bowels of my vagina, I could feel the jets of semen
spurting out, blasting against my cervix, filling the minute spaces between
my cunt walls and his cock, and being squeezed out onto the crushed flesh of
my labia and his balls. I felt it drooling down over my asshole, falling into
a growing puddle on my sleeping bag. The amount of his cum was incredible,
stored in his swollen balls for all these centuries now spurting again and
again into my cunt. Just when I thought he was locked in an endless cycle of
orgasm, he finally let the tension ebb from his muscles. I worried that he
would let his solid weight slump down onto my smaller body, but he caught
himself, and suddenly pulled away, drawing his still-erect cock from my
suckling vagina with a loud slurping sound. Kneeling for a moment between my
legs (which had now dropped to the ground), he stared deeply into my eyes,
sending me a plaintive message of thanks, of desire, of hope, and perhaps of
despair.
Abruptly, he stood up tall and proud, and without looking back, he strode
away from me, toward the wall of the cave. He seemed like he would collide
with the unyielding rock, and I sat up with a gasp of concern for his
welfare. But just as he reached the wall, he disappeared soundlessly, and
then in his place, the stick figure drawing reappeared in the same place that
it had been earlier. Again the image included the cock hanging downward from
the center. And this time, directly below the kachina's cock, a string of
black smudges extended like a dotted line, reaching all the way to the sandy
floor of the cavern.
The whole experience left me exhausted and bewildered. Was this all an
incredibly realistic dream. I could remember every detail, which is never the
case with my dreams. But so much of it was clearly impossible. In the daze of
my orgasm and the insistent tiredness that saturated my body, I quickly fell
back asleep. I know that I had other dreams that night. Dreams of a circle of
Indians dancing around my naked body, each taking a turn fucking me while the
others chanted and whooped it up. Dreams of flying like an eagle over the
canyons and mesas of this magical, spiritual territory. Dreams of swimming as
a fish through the vast expanses of Lake Powell, visiting the drowned
villages deep below the tranquil surface. Dreams of being filled with the
cock, the semen, and the spirit of the ancient and benevolent Kachina of the
great Pre-columbian Anasazi Nation.
I awoke with the bright sun just peeking over the ragged edge of the stone
amphitheater. My first thought was that I had experienced the most intense
dreams of my life, so remarkably vivid and detailed. The wet spot in my
sleeping bag was the first clue to what had really happened. Rolling over
onto my side, I saw the pile of charred driftwood, left over from the
campfire. The cave painting certainly depicted a large and drooling cock. I
couldn't make any sense of what had happened, and after a few minutes of
trying, I gave up my futile attempt to be logical.
So I set to work packing up my camping gear, and soon I was hiking back down
the canyon. When I slipped out of the narrow exit of the chasm and back out
to my beached boat, the water was so alluring. I immediately dropped my pack,
stripped off my clothes once more, and waded in to the invigorating water.
Once I was up to my waste, I cupped handfuls of water and splashed them up
onto my tender breasts, and then onto my face, looking down into the water, I
was struck by two incredible sights. First I saw steamers of stringy white
semen flowing out into the water, wafting like ephemeral smoke from the
chimney of my cunt. I was entranced with the mesmerizing appearance of this
further evidence of what had happened last night. And in my stillness, the
surface of the water became flat and reflective, and the image of my face was
assembled from the glittery fragments. When the puzzle was complete, I saw
the final proof: the water had ruined the adhesive of my bandage, and when I
pulled the gauze away, my pink skin was completely unblemished.
***************
NOTE: This story was partly inspired by reading a couple of mystery novels by
Tony Hillerman, who combines in his stories the modern day life on the Navaho
reservation with the myths and histories of those peoples. On the other hand,
perhaps Mr. Hillerman will be glad to know that the eroticism of my story
comes only from my own wild imagination.
My knowledge of Native American heritage is very sketchy, and I apologize if
anything that I have included here is inappropriate. Certainly, it is
irreverent, but I guess that to be expected in erotica. If any reader had
information that would either correct my narrative, or would add to the
authenticity, I would be happy to receive the help....As always, sequels are
also welcome.... [email protected]
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