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