("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- The Treasures Inside Her Cave by Slim n' Dusty (slimndusty@yahoo.co.uk) *** This bone-loving female soldier doesn't keep her skeletons in a closet, she keeps them safely tucked away at an undisclosed site - ALL FOR HERSELF! (F/M+, v, nec) *** She visited them as regularly as she could. The drive in her jeep would take her through various mountainous terrain and valleys of bare rock. A place fondly remembered, far enough from main roads and remote enough from her own existence in the noisy city. She would stay usually no more than one or two nights in her cave, but the nights there were her medicine that she had to take. Her nights would rejuvenate her, recharge her, fire her hormones and detonate her sexuality. She would go away, but she would always return a little older, but more desperate, confident and desirous than less. Her stomach, nearing empty, would always return her reluctantly to the closed society she had long learned to despise. In her cave, however, she was the female version of Robinson Crusoe. She would bring along jerrycans and ration packs and enjoy her treasures and the intensity of her own self-made environment. It was an island for her. A necessary one because most people would not understand her, they would simply judge her with the mentality of sheep. A closed mentality. While she was alive, she would be dutiful to her own sensuality and pleasures. She would explore the darkest recesses of her female brain and bring fantasy to life. What society didn’t know about, didn’t matter… Whenever she made her approach after the long drive, she would approach her cave with the same caution when she approached it for the first time. The reason for the slow approach wasn’t just for caution, of course. The area had been safe for quite a while. Her body and her nature also felt the need to approach it slowly to soak in the moment, to play act in the way she did as a little girl, to feel the intense rush of feelings that swept her trembling into that place. She adored reliving the experiences she had there. The silence and the isolation further fed the intensity of the experience. She craved these moments of isolation, to be away from other living people, people who would never understand her and who would harass and victimise her because of her differences. Some would want her locked up. A menace, a disease of immorality and depravity. They would not call her a ‘normal’ person, they would isolate themselves from her, excommunicate themselves. There would sometimes be a few others who would see her different, they would see her as a delicious wild flower, a deliciously rare wild flower who deserved to chase whatever satisfied her. They had a similar mind and outlook oppression on sexuality however exotic. Unfortunately, these types appeared so rare that she never heard from them, they kept to themselves, chasing and feeding their own depravities, their intense hot- blooded sexualities. Nearing the entrance to her cave, she would sometimes have to stop to recover and drink water from the nearest jerrycan. Her gasping would come from the heat of the sun, the breeze over the rocks and the sounds she made as she neared the entrance. Sometimes, like on this occasion, she would resist the urge to remove her top and pants and masturbate in the open with only a blue cloudless sky above. Other times, she would let passion out of its stifling cage and stand there with her legs well apart. She would watch her shadow while the back of her neck felt incessant warm kisses from the sun. She would watch the shadow of her left hand moving gently in rhythm with her heartbeat. Leaning against a rock face near the entrance, she would squeeze her full nipples while deftly working her fingers over the moist pink flesh, not enough to relieve her, but to sharpen her desires into razors… She had always kept her sexuality to herself as she did the treasures inside her cave. She would wait for her dark eyes to slowly adjust to the light and then she would enter into her self-made world. Stowing her gear at the back, she would then open her bag of candles and light up the darkness just enough for her to make out her treasures inside. Each candle placed strategically to create a delicious atmosphere of her own choosing. Introducing the candlelight slowly made her quiver. She would begin to make out her still treasures lying there in the darkness. And when she felt the light soft but sufficient, she would slowly remove her khaki top and her camouflaged trousers and drop them below her knees. She would take out her digital camera and squat above the nearest round bone she could find. Peering between her smooth, rounded thighs she would moan at the deteriorated condition of the taut leathered skin that the candlelight displayed for her. How, with each visitation, the leathery covering would slowly reveal more of the white head bone beneath. She would have wanted to touch, to caress more but she dared not to for fear of him deteriorating too rapidly. The camera flash lit the inside of her cave as she took her first picture of the man’s skull laying there in the dirt between her white, warm thighs. Her second image was of the dark sadness of the empty eye sockets that she loved. She moaned at the large gaping hole where a man’s mouth and tongue had once been. The dried skin still clinging to jaws and cheeks. Her third flash captured the empty mouth and the taut skin gave him an appearance that he was screaming. With images as overwhelming as this, she would start trembling. Slowly she would stand with camera around her neck and remove her panties, before squatting down to spread her legs wide and part her hot, moist labias with one hand. Her other hand would hold the camera. Moaning she would feel her hot urine vacate her body, her fingers would nimbly direct the yellow arc. Her self-discipline allowed her to start and stop at a given moment. She would aim and squirt at all the main orifii. The camera would flash, capturing her warming herself up with an easy target - aiming into each dark eye socket, before she would direct her urethral opening to the neat, round hole that she had made in his forehead so many years before. Her favourite part was the screaming mouth hole. She would aim casually and squirt in stages, watching her salty liquid flow out from her tiny, pulsing, warm hole and into the large accommodating mouth hole of the dead male soldier she had shot. Capturing each squirt on camera, she would slide a finger through her moist slit, starting slowly from the base of her vaginal entrance right through to her swollen clit, she would complete the brief arousal by rubbing it tenderly. She would follow this with more urine, filling him slowly with her offering into his bony cup-like skull. She would listen to the sound of her hot piss filling him up, before she would stop so that he wouldn’t overflow with her liquid waste. She would begin to intensify her stroking the more she emptied her bladder. Her fingers gliding over her soft, thick outer lips as she inhaled the fragrance of her own piss. She saw how her salty liquid would quickly dry out in the desert air and how the salt would stain the bones of the three dead men in her cave and how it would add to their further deterioration. Each time she visited them, she would add more to all her previous efforts, while she replayed this particular favourite event from the war in her mind… Their panicky attempt to fight back in the semi- darkness with their own rifles. She knew the terrain well and she could have made the encounter long-winded and torturous for the men, but she didn’t bother. She dropped them neatly as they approached the cave so that carrying them inside was less effort for her. Piss or bullets, she had always been good with her aiming and enjoyed the feelings that both gave her. She hovered around the cave briefly early the next day, removing traces of the event so that any wandering tribesmen or lost outsiders alike would not discover any evidence of what went on. And then she left them in the cave long enough to bloat and swell and do what dead men do best as their lifeless bodies would begin the process of slowly breaking down. She knew how long it would take and kept them fully clothed in their uniforms because she found it arousing to see the clothing deteriorate along with their bodies, their putrid insides leaking out and slowly staining their uniforms… She lay back now and relished the feel of the many bones of the men mingled together inside her cave. Her past moments of pure lust, of lying and rolling there naked amongst the remains of the three men had caused their bones to mingle. She would rub herself against them and feel the weight of her warm body against their cold fragments. Her bare foot would extend outwards to the large round bone of a man’s nearest skull and slowly rub itself against it. Her camera would capture the image for her to enjoy later. Her toes would trace the contours of the eye sockets and then the mouth, brush against the teeth that remained in the upper row of her victim. She would caress the back of his skull with her heel before kicking it between her thighs. She gasped at the impact the large bone made with her exposed genitalia. She would rub herself then before repeating the sweet action over and over until she could take it no longer. She would then drop the head bone firmly between her warm thighs and spread her legs to begin pleasuring herself. She would aim short squirts of urine to splash over the remains of the man’s head, cleaning him of dust. Gently she would masturbate herself while the skull sat facing her, silent and helpless to her manipulations and desires. She fantasised then as she put her fingers into action, thinking about what the young men whom she’d shot would be thinking of her now. She imagined them watching her as her fingers deftly caressed her moist folds before retreating across her naked belly to caress her full, smooth breasts. Her wet fingertips pinching her dark, erect nipples as her belly tensed and writhed with each wave of deep passion. Reaching out, she would grip the skull before raising her legs. Slowly she would press the skull to her shapely calves before sliding the skull gently down behind her knees and thighs, down and down, until the whiskers of her cunt could detect his bony presence. Lying back, she would let her sex plant sweet kisses all over and around the shiny trophy. The candlelight would catch the moisture of both her urine and lust now mingling across the bony surface seeping its way into weathered cracks, assisting the further breakdown of his remains. Discarding the cunt-kissed man skull, she would then reach for a make do cock. She loved the feel when she pressed an upper leg bone to her vulva, squeezing it between her thighs. How, during lust filled moments, the ball-shaped end would slip effortlessly inside her like an abnormal giant penis. She would begin by lingering one end of the bone around her wet entrance, allowing it to touch her intimate parts with extreme subtly. Her vulva would respond even more at the offering when she would allow her sphincter to caress a finger bone. She would close her eyes and feel the texture of the lovely bones working their magic in and out of her body, pusher her closer and closer to yet another explosive orgasm with the treasures inside her cave. END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 37