From semaj@indy.net Fri Mar 14 22:24:16 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Magic Valley
From: Sam and Sam <semaj@indy.net>
Date: Fri, 14 Mar 1997 22:24:16 -0500
--------
Magic Valley	4,901 words
by Jim Spencer

Groves of paired trees lined the river. One of the pair bore, a swollen
tumescent phallic fruit, some pale flesh colored, others purple or dark
brown or a deep yellow, but all ending in a bright red rounded cone
dripping an opalescent milky fluid. and from the other tree of the pair
hung an elongated oval-shaped fruit with a folded crease extending its
length. These oval fruit also discharged a fluid, a clear sweet smelling
liquid. Low woody bushes grew in clusters and they too grew the same
type of fruit. Thin leafy vines ran from one bush to another, sometimes
meeting and knotting about each other.
Chris wandered idly, touching a fruit here and there, occasionally
plucking one and tasting its nectar before dropping it to the ground.
Soft cool breezes filtered through the forest, caressing her naked
honey-colored skin and playfully sliding between her legs to ruffle the
dark red hair.. Sunlight dappled the ground like golden coins tossed
from a pirate chest. The golden light spotted her wide hips and danced
across her full breasts. Copper highlights shined wherever the sun
touched her dusky red hair. She walked with ease and confidence although
she knew not where she was, only that she felt a growing need. Gentle
whisperings beckoned her to the river. Somewhere she could hear a
torrent spilling from a great height, but here the river ran smoothly
and languidly around dark rocks jutting from its bed. The rocks all
seemed to grow from stone platform-like bases into tall shafts, each
ending in a vee. The legs of the vees were uneven, one always twice as
long as the other and fatter, blunter. The shorter side of the vees were
tapered, their ends bulging slightly.
She dipped a bare toe. The river’s fluid was not water but similar to
the fluid dripping from the fruit, but warm. The pale opalescent, milky,
somewhat sticky substance smelled of musk. Gracefully Chris squatted and
swept a finger through the fluid and into her mouth. The taste was
familiar, salt with a hint of a tang much like the fruit’s nectar. She
stepped into the waist deep river and waded to one of the black rocks.
It thrust out of the river, hard and gleaming yet seemed soft to the
eye. She clasped both hands at its base and squeezing, stroked its
length. A jet of river fluid arched from the near tip. She laughed and
bent to lick clean the helmet shaped end. With hooded eyes she stepped
upon the platform, straddling its shaft. Grasping one leg of the vee and
lowered herself. Head thrown back and eyes now closed, Chris let the
hardness slid into her, deep, then deeper. The leg of the vee in her
hands began to warm and she pressed herself against the hard surface. A
soft pulsing hum came from the rock and flowed into her, climbed her
spine and filled her brain. Desire flowed from her brain to between her
legs, wetting the rock and demanding movement. She raised and lowered
her body with the pulses, each time forcing more of the rock into her.
She pressed harder against the opposite leg and soon all thought was
lost, the only thing that mattered was releasing the tension within.
Faster she impaled herself on the rock, until panting and gasping for
breath she achieved the release her body so urgently demanded as the
rock filled her with its fluid. Spent, Chris let her heated body fall
into the cooling river.
She floated on her back, taut breasts awash and pink nipples hard in
response to the breeze now playing about her exposed skin. Fluttering
her hands to stay afloat she let the current carry her downstream until
her shoulder bumped another jutting rock. She stood, river fluid looping
in silvery strands from her hair, and climbed onto the new rock, admired
its shape and size then repeated her experience.
Once again in the river, only this time feeling more vigorous, she swam
upstream, beyond her first lover too a deep pool at the base of a cliff.
The river leapt from a cleft in the cliff top with blue sky providing a
background contrast to the cleft’s black rock sides. 
Rising out of the pool was the largest rock of them all. It rose
dominating from the river, a bulge near its middle, its summit as high
as her head and deeply forked. She climbed upon its platform and took
its base in both hands, her fingers did not touch. With one hand she
traced golden veins that climbed from its root to the tip at eye level.
It was warm and like the other two, pulsed with a deep hum. But this hum
was stronger and sent vibrations into her center just by touching the
monolith. Chris’s fingers explored and found a narrow slit, oozing
fluid, at the tip. She sucked the rock’s fluid from her fingers and a
burst of honey-lemon flashed across her tongue.
The hum excited her. She wanted this rock in her but there was no way to
stand over it. The rock began to glow a dull red and its intrinsic heat
increased. She wrapped her legs around the shaft and firmly gripped the
longer side of the vee, her outer lips were forced open like butterfly
wings and the smooth surface glided past them as she heaved herself
upward. Pulling with her arms and pushing with her legs she climbed
until only her arms were supporting her over the rock. One foot on the
bulge and balancing with her hand, she swung her hips and aligned
herself with the oozing tip. Cautiously she allowed the rock to enter.
Its fluid wetted her outside then inside. It spread her delightfully as
she eased downward. She was stopped where the rock widened enough to
fill her and no more. Her feet clung to the bulge. Supported above the
shaft imbedded in her body, by her feet on the bulge, and her hands on
the vee, Chris released a long low moan. It was as if the rock had been
designed for her, designed to force her to the maximum width and a bit
beyond, the pleasure pain of a bit beyond. Chris swayed, gathering her
balance, impaled upon the rock. The dry coppery taste of overwhelming
lust filled her mouth. She gripped harder the slippery surface with her
feet and pulling down with her hands, raised upward, then lowered
herself. At first she moved slowly, then faster as the want built.
The vee’s leg in her grasp broke away from the rock. Her arms flailed in
the air seeking support, but there was none. Only the imbedded rock was
keeping her from falling into the river. Each time she moved, she slid
impossibly lower on the rock’s tapering form and another gush of painful
pleasure pumped into her. She wriggled and rubbed and took more and more
rock into her body. Chris felt her insides clamp around the shaft, then
tightened more. Her inner tension released with a scream and belly
clenching spasms. The rock continued its steady now almost frenetic
humming. She knew she could take no more into her, but did. Until at
last the rock released its powerful jet, filling her to overflowing, a
river of fluid running down her thighs. She pushed with her feet against
the bulge. The strength of her legs and the power of the jet lifted her
from the tip. She arched backward to splash into the river. Weak and
barely aware, Chris floundered to shore and lay gasping on the bank in
the healing sunlight. Satiated, replete, her libido prostrate in the
depths of her sole, Chris slept.

Sunlight and hunger awakened Chris. The sun blazed straight into the
valley and her stomach was empty. Remembering the fruit on the trees and
bushes she went into the forest. Once again she sampled the tuberous
fruit , but this time discarded only those whose taste did not sit easy
on her tongue. Some were still green, unripe, not ready to be plucked,
bitter. Others, the ones she kept, were firm but soft like a ripe pear
and their flavor sweet. The forest had no paths and she had no
direction, only from tree to bush, seeking enough to eat. When she kept
a fruit, she clasped it to her breast with one arm and soon had more
than one arm could carry. Picking a shaded spot, she sat cross-legged
upon a bed of fallen leaves. She soon discovered biting the end from the
fruit caused the juices to spray over her cheeks and chin. By the third
fruit, with her torso covered in sticky sweet juices, she found the best
way to drink the  juice was to place the end of the fruit far back into
her mouth, almost to the point of choking, and clamp her lips then pull
it out of her mouth while squeezing it with her tongue. Juice would gush
from the fruit and fill her mouth, sometimes to fall onto the slope of
breasts and run dripping from her nipples. Each fruit she ate quieted
one hunger and awakened another. 
Halfway through her feast a rustling attracted her attention. Sweeping
away the covering leaves she exposed a snake. At least she thought it
was a snake, it looked snake-like, as big around as her wrist and as
long as her forearm. Unlike a snake the creature had no scales but a
soft green skin molted with maroon patches. It seemed also to have a
plum-shaped head at each end. One head had eyes and an opening from
which its tongue flicked. Chris watched wonderingly as the snake nuzzled
a pea-sized red berry then tested it with its forked tongue. The fork in
the snake’s tongue wrapped around the berry then it bent itself into a
circle. A mouth opened in the other head and accepted the berry. She had
no fear of a berry eating snake and on her knees searched under the
leaves for more berries. The ground was littered with the red berries
and she swept a dozen into her hand. Sitting with knees drawn up, back
against a smooth barked tree, chin resting on her knees, she dropped
berries to the snake. The snake flicked out its tongue, gasped each
berry and twisted it to the mouth. Chris began to let berries land
further from the snake to see how long its tongue was. The snake
squirmed after the berries when they were too far away. Soon the snake
was making a path around her as it chased the food.
One of the last berries bounced when it landed and rolled under legs.
The snake followed the errant berry. Chris spread her knees to watch the
snake. It paused after eating the berry and flicked its tongue into her
hair. Chris gasped at its feathery touch. She placed a berry between her
outer lips. Again the snake flicked its tongue, only instead of grasping
the berry, it was forced into her. Chris squeezed a berry letting its
red juice drip into her hair. The snake cleaned the juice from her
tangle. Another squeeze and more juice fell, only further up. The snake
stretched its body and climbed to reach those drops. This time Chris
aimed for her own berry and let the juice fill the tiny cup in which it
sat. The snake obliged her by crawling higher and licking the juice. It
found her now red berry and wrapped its forked tongue around the prize.
At the same time she felt the snake’s other head part her outer lips.
Its large smooth body opened and spread her as it slithered into her.
She leaned her head against the tree. The snake tugged with its tongue
on the outside and wriggled and searched for the lost berry inside.
Gasping, Chris dripped more juice upon herself. Finding the berry buried
in her, the mouth withdrew
Quickly she inserted the rest of the berries as deep as she could reach
with her fingers. The snake’s mouth closed on her lips then slid its
body back inside. It moved deep then retreated then back deeper still,
seeking berries. She could fell soft nips deep inside when the mouth
found her flesh rather than a berry. Chris smoothed her hands up her
panting sides to cup sticky breasts. She rolled and pinched her nipples
then bending her head she licked the sweet juice. Her release came
suddenly, her toes curled, her breath stopped then burst forth, she rode
the pleasure waves rolling outward. The snake, satisfied by the berries
inside her and having cleaned all the juice available, pulled itself
from her and climbed across her belly, up her ribcage until it could
reach her breasts. Chris watched the tongue clean her skin with its
feathery flicks until there was no more to clean.
She picked up the snake in both hands and kissed its head. The snake’s
tongue darted between her lips. The fork glided across her tongue,
flicking in and out, lapping the juice. Chris moved the animal away. She
picked more berries from under the leaves and inserted them as before. A
fruit sent another gout of juice into her mouth. Falling on her side,
Chris curled herself into a circle. This time she inserted the snake
between her legs and let the head return to her mouth. She gently
gripped the snake’s body with her thighs as she let it search and lick.
A shuddering climax made her moan around the snake’s head. Still on her
side, she released the snake and let it make its way back under the
leaves. Hungers satisfied, Chris rested then again wandered through the
afternoon forest toward the river. 

The sun was past its zenith when Chris reached the river. A chill breeze
made her shiver and she knew that she would need shelter for the night.
She followed the river back to the deep pool, searching for a soft,
sheltered place to lay down, but found none. At the pool her rock stood
cloaked in shadow. She searched around the edges of the pool to the very
cliff face. The breeze had shifted to flow along with the river and blew
a warm moist musk to her from the cleft at the cliff’s top. The only
path she could see to the cleft lay to the left of the falls, she would
have to swim. The river was still warm and took the chill from her naked
skin. She swam to her rock and heaved herself onto its platform. A hand
told her it was still warm and inviting, the tingling hum making her
wet. Eyes closed, she embraced the huge shaft, cheek pressed against it,
breasts flattening against the warm surface. She wrapped her legs around
it and pulled herself tight. The now chill breeze broke her spell. It
was almost dark and she needed shelter.
The rocks to the left of the falls were not warm and tingly but cold and
slippery with sticky spray. Chris, sliding and slipping, scrambled over
the boulders at the cliff’s base. She scrapped her knees, scratched a
thigh, small stones gouged her feet. At last at the cliff, she began to
climb. Here the rocks were out of reach of the spray and were easier to
grasp. A wide groove, cut by the river’s savage force during floods,
allowed her to slither into the cleft.
The tiny hanging valley ended in another, lower cliff, from which the
river fell and ran toward her in a narrow swift stream. She stood on a
smooth surface of black rock. Warm air bathed her chilled skin bringing
a sense of well being. The stream divided into two channels around a low
moss covered island. , in the middle of each channel stood a huge bush,
roots deep in the stream bed. one bush grew the phallic fruit and the
other the ovoid. On these bushes the fruit was at the end of coiled
vines. Some vines had no fruit but ended in two leaves. The island was
covered in emerald moss. Chris pushed her way across the strong current.
She waded carefully, fearing the one misstep that would send her over
the edge. The moss proved as soft as it looked, deep, resilient, and
fragrant, heated by the sun and the valley’s warm climate. Above of the
bushes the river was clear clean water and below it became milky and
sticky. Clean water drew her upstream. Something had splashed the black
rock into a basin long enough to lay in. Steam drifted from the basin’s
still water. Chris knelt and saw herself in the mirror like surface,
laughing at her matted hair and dirty face. She scrubbed her face with
the warm water then eased herself into the basin. Ducking her head, she
cleaned and untangled her hair. The scrapes and bruises smarted but the
warmth eased the her sore leg and arm muscles. Chris soaked until the
light was gone then looked for a place to sleep. She found a small vine
wrapped log for a pillow and a long shallow depression in the moss.
After tearing the dried vines from the log, she placed it at one end of
the depression against the up curving surface. She lay on her left side,
legs scissored, left hand under her cheek and the right resting on the
moss. Sleep came quickly and deeply, without dreams.

Chris lay cupped in the green moss. Dusky rose hair dark in the shadows
and honey tanned skin glowing in the pale moonlight. A fruitless vine
from the phallic bush snaked its way across the green carpet. The leaves
on its tip lightly explored her form, touching her hip, then along her
side to caress the underside of her breasts. The leaves closed on a
nipple then glided to her throat and brushed her carmine lips. It
withdrew and moved downward. Finding the cleft of her buttocks, it
followed that path around to the hair between her legs. The vine paused,
explored and withdrew. A fruitless vine from the ovoid bush also reached
out to her sleeping form. It caressed her hair and slid along her body
until it too disappeared between her legs and withdrew.
Quickly, almost too fast even for a dream, vines shot from both bushes.
Phallic vines wrapped around her right wrist and ankle and the ovoid
vines her left wrist and ankle. The vines snapped taught, flinging her
onto her stomach, pulling her arms alongside her head and spreading her
legs wide. The vines dragged her until stopped by her abdomen dragging
on the pillow log. The vines pulled again and her arms stretched
outwards. Her shoulders rested on the lip of the hollow, breasts hanging
free. She fought to be free, straining and twisting, but the vines held
fast. In response to her struggles another vine from each bush whipped
around her torso, wrapping in opposite directions until she was held
from underarms to waist. The torso vines tightened, sending shivers of
pain as they slid across her breasts. She rested a moment then continued
struggling. The ovoid bush extended a vine into the air, a vine not long
enough to wrap around her, and brought it whistling down across her
buttocks. Chris gasped, in pain. She held still and slowly pulled
against the ankle vines. They let her get her knees under her and
against the log then quickly warped around her upper thighs, passing
between her legs and again snap taut. Chris was now held face down on
her knees, helpless to resist more vines from securing her ankles. 
Her left cheek on the moss, she saw an ovoid fruit sliding down one of
the restraining vines, like a circus star down a slanted wire, its vine
trailing after it like a safety line. She turned to look at the phallic
bush and from it too, a fruit was siding toward her. They met on Chris's
back. They twisted and twined around each other until the phallic fruit
entered the ovoid fruit’s crease and was held tight, they trembled and
pulsed. The ovoid fruit clenched the other causing the phallic to
convulse, sending its juice gushing into the ovoid. They lay still on
her back. The deflated phallic fell from the ovoid, which was pulled
back, bumping across the ground. After a moment the phallic too was
pulled back to its source.
Soon more fruit from both bushes were sliding down the vines. A second
pair landed on her buttocks but the ovoid wriggled towards her
shoulders. A phallic thumped into Chris’s thigh, fell between her knees
and began searching. She gasped as the fruit found an opening and thrust
upward. Seeking maximum contact the fruit spread her, thrust upward
again and began its dance. A phallic on her buttocks searched downward
until it too found an opening. It wormed its way around and forced
probed her sphincter. Chris tried to shake it fruit loose but she was
held too tightly to move and the fruit forced its way inside. Between
her legs was pleasure but between her cheeks was pain. The pain and
pleasure met, building a familiar tension. Chris was amazed that the
sensation of being doubly penetrated could be anything but bad, yet
somehow it wasn’t. After filling her with its juice, the phallic between
her legs fell to the ground, only to be replaced by another. She sighed
with relief when the one in her rectum withdrew and gasped with pain
when another entered her.
The ovoid on her back fell from a shoulder, landing next to her face. A
phallic crawled along her left arm and found the ovoid. They squirmed
and the phallic thrust home. Another phallic tried to enter the ovoid
but was forced to elsewhere. It touched Chirs’s face. She clamped her
mouth tight but the fruit was powerful and soon forced itself past her
lips. It battered her teeth but she kept it from going farther by
lunging backward. A flash of pain from another short vine laid across
her buttocks made her gasp, the phallic darted into her mouth. She
remember how she had drank the juices from the fruit in the forest and
sucked it deep. By clamping her lips, pressing it against the roof of
her mouth with her tongue, and sucking hard, she forced the fruit to
expel its juice and swallowed hurriedly to keep from choking. Flaccid,
its vine pulled it from her mouth and she again clamped her jaws tight.
The juice tugged at her libido, desire began to build. An ovoid bounced
from her head to lay before her face. It wriggled seeking a mate but
instead impaled itself on Chris’s nose. Unable to breath, she opened her
mouth and a phallic slid past her lips. The ovoid, not finding what it
needed dropped from her face and she could breath. Using the same
technique Chris exhausted the phallic and spat it out. Now, with a
stomach full of the phallic juice, her libido was raging.
No longer did the multiple penetrations hurt or seem repugnant, they
were welcome. She tried to spread her legs wider, to raise herself
higher, to become more accessible and she eagerly awaited another
phallic to enter her mouth and leave its juice. Voids thudded into her
side and fell beneath her. In their search they clamped onto her
nipples, stretching them. Phallics found their way beneath her. As soon
as an ovoid would realize that it had not mated with a phallic it would
drop to the ground and be penetrated and another ovoid would find the
unoccupied nipple. The squirming fruit shoved into her breasts making
the voids fastened there pull harder on her tender nipples and adding to
her lust.
A climax roared through her, then another, and another. Repeated
climaxes convulsed her body triggering more vines to lash and whip at
her. Phallic after phallic penetrated between her legs and buttocks.
Their juice sheathed her bottom and thighs. The voids under her were
replaced by others. A puddle grew next to her mouth from the juices she
could not swallow. She was covered in copulating fruit, her body slick
with their overflowing juices. Exhaustion soon took its toll. Chris
collapsed, driven unconscious by ecstasy and still she was ravaged front
and back, again and again, her body responding even if her mind didn’t.
As the night advanced, the mating frenzy slowed and stopped. All the
fruit were pulled back to their parent, only the restraining vines
stretched across the green moss.
The rising sun’s rays speared across the valley’s rim and like
searchlights illuminating a prison wall splashed into the little valley.
Chris felt heat on her striped back. She moaned and tried to pull an arm
beneath her. She was still held fast by the vines. Still held face down,
exposed to the rampaging fruit, only then did she realize she was not
being assaulted, not being penetrated, not being molested. She listened
and heard only birdsong and the falls, no rustling of bushes or the
slithery sound of vines. Opening her eyes, Chris saw her wrist was still
encircled but as she watched, the vine began to dry in the sunlight. It
turned brown and dry and most importantly, brittle. She waited until the
sun grew stronger then tore herself free. Quickly she crawled out of the
hollow. She hurt. Her back stung from the lashing. She touched her
aching jaw and found her lips chaffed and raw. Standing brought sharp
pain stabbing between her legs. When she staggered forward, the movement
hurt her sphincter. The cool breeze stung her nipples.
She hobbled to the basin and rolled into the water. Healing washed over
her hurts. When the sun reached the middle of the sky. Chris rose
dripping from the basin. Her hurts had been rinsed away by the water. A
hand run over her bottom found no welts. She felt her openings and the
soreness was gone. She bent to examine her face in the pool’s still
water. Her lips had healed to their normal fullness. Her breasts and
nipples were no longer bruised. Still, deep inside, she felt a faint
throbbing of desire. A huge draught of the basin’s water and the throb
faded. Fearing the fruit would awaken, Chris followed the steam to the
head of the hanging valley. A cliff, lower than the one she had climbed
to get into the valley barred her way. She easily climbed the sun warmed
rocks. Knee-high tawny grasses grew to the a distance a low purple
smudge. The plain seemed limitless. A breeze passed, created waves of
movement and rushed for the horizon.
The stream meandered ahead of her looping and almost crossing itself.
Chris turned and looked back the way she had come. The trees and rocks
and especially the hanging valley seemed to call to her, beckoning to
her libido and she felt a surge of wetness between her legs. She stooped
and drank from the cool clean stream, clearing her blood of the juice’s
potent influence. Chris shaded her eyes with a hand and set a course
toward the purple smudge.
The grasses were soft under her bare feet and she traveled quickly,
resting only long enough to drink and eat a handful of raspberries. When
she sat cross-legged in the grass her honey-gold skin blended with the
plain and she had the aspect of a flower. Her body the slim firm stalk,
her breasts with their pink nipples, buds about to break into blossoms
and her dusky rose hair in full bloom.
In mid-afternoon she came to a place where the stream widened and
slowed. Rushes, cattails, and willows grew along the banks and beside a
channel leading to a pond. Heated by some fissure in the plain’s crust
the water boiled. Chris fashioned a basket from willow branches and
caught a fish for dinner. She found sage and rosemary for seasoning,
cattail roots for a vegetable and dined heartily. A pile of soft grasses
was her mattress and the starry sky her blanket. Breakfast was fish and
cattails. Just after midday she caught sight of birds wheeling in the
sky ahead. An hour’s march brought her to an escarpment. the river
flowed from a cave in its side. Chris began climbing, her now hardened
feet easily gripping the black rock. At the top she found herself on the
edge of another small valley, a cleavage cut into the plain.

The river fell into its far end and flowed across its bottom to vanish
into a cave in the cliff at her feet. Groves of paired trees lined the
river. One of the pair bore, a swollen tumescent phallic fruit, some
pale flesh colored, others purple or dark brown or a deep yellow, but
all ending in a bright red rounded cone dripping an opalescent milky
fluid. and the other an elongated oval shape fruit with a folded crease
extending its length. These oval fruit also discharged a fluid, a clear
sweet smelling liquid. Low woody bushes grew in clusters and they too
grew the same type of fruit. Thin leafy vines ran from one bush to
another, sometimes meeting and knotting about each other.
The End