Page 39 of Caveman Alien's Touch

“They may be scary,” I breathe, sensing his hardness twitch behind me. “You must bring your spear.”

“I will bring my spear,” he coos, taking the lower hem of my sweatshirt between his fingers and starting to lift it, slowly so I have a chance to stop him.

But stopping this is the last thing I want. I’ve had a day full of contests and battles and fearing for my life. I need this now, something completely opposite from the desperation of both today and the years in the dank tunnels. “Good.”

“But I won’t need it. For in the stars, everyone fears us. Because there,weare the Bigs!” He pulls the front of my sweater up, exposing my breasts to the night air. I help by raising my body so the fabric can slide up under my back, too.

“What else do we do there?”

“We do this,” he says and strokes both my breasts with those warm, tingly fingertips.

The nipples contract so hard it makes me gasp. But at the same time, this is too slow. I want it faster. So I quickly straighten and help Noker take off my sweatshirt. I use the opportunity to open the first button in my jeans, before I lean back again. It has to be enough of a hint.

He gets it right away, Stroking one breast, his other hand slides down my front, leaving a lingering trail of warm, soothing tingles until his fingers stroke up against the thick edge of the fabric.

The sheer expectation makes a thrill run through me. That touch feels very special, and already the sensory overload is starting.

“We’ll step off the stars and go to the moon Yrf,” he goes on, voice even more gravelly than usual, “where we’ll walk in the blue jungle and explore the terrain.”

The fingers dive into uncharted territory where my skin is extra soft and sensitive.

My breath is going shallow from anticipation. “And then?”

The zipper in my jeans follows his fingertips lower until they encounter the upper edge of the panties that were the first garment I made from Bryar’s stock of caveman fabric. There’s no elastic, just a drawstring carefully tied in a knot.

Noker is not deterred. He simply slides his finger lower over the fabric. “Then we explore the low hills and the—” his voice catches in his throat and the fingers stop. “... and the small valleys there.”

“Oh…” I can’t help the moan. This is going in the best possible direction.

“They are soft valleys,” Noker goes on, his voice downright gruff, “soft and very warm…” His fingers tap on some very sensitive parts of me that are also pretty highly strung right now.

But all this clothing is starting to annoy me. I unceremoniously pull my jeans off and toss them further into the cave and slide the panties down to my knees. The coolness of the night air makes me feel extremely bare.

Noker’s breath goes shallow, too. This is his first time with a naked woman, after all. It makes me feel even better — I’m not the only one who’s barely in control right now.

His fingers are on my bare skin, warm and soothing, creating a cascade of tingles as he keeps making his little circles, exploring each spot except the most needy one.

“We’ll explore the plains,” he murmurs close to my ears, making the hairs stand up on my arms as his fingers keep circling. “And the woods.” They swing towards the center, going through some ’foliage’ that has been trimmed with a crude scissor, but not much more.

The fire crackles beside us, and the alien stars twinkle in the sky outside my cave. The sounds of slow, steady tribal drumming echo softly from the jungle. I can’t help but notice that each mutedboomcoincides with his moves on my body. Twobooms, one circle. Threebooms, one stroke across a nipple.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” I rasp as I lean back, close my eyes, and relax into his touch. This is the wildest thing I’ve ever done, and I love it.

Noker’s fingers explore the skin around my sex carefully, setting off tingles like little sparklers, moving closer and closer until I’m involuntarily thrusting my hips into the air, my whole body tensing up with the anticipation.

“Then we gointothe valley,” he murmurs and lets one warm, tingly finger slide up one fleshy lip.

I buck and moan. “Yesss…”

“There’s a river at the bottom of it,” he goes on as he dips one finger into me, making a wet squelch. “And we will follow it.”

More fingers join, and I lose track of what he does. All I know is that my center feels like it’s about to erupt. I clench the dinosaur skin we’re sitting on with both hands, having to hold onto something. I’m sure there must be sparks of current running up and down my sex, building to something really special.

His fingers touch and stroke, caress and tease, making shockingly wet noises the whole time. His narration goes on, but I have no idea where we are in the story. I’m so ready, I’m trembling.

“...finally we get to a small peak,” he growls. “And there… we stay.” His half-dinosaur fingers circle right in the most sensitive spot and stay there, his touch feather light but insistent. And warm, so incredibly warm and tingly…

It’s like setting a sparkler to a keg of dry gunpowder. A wave of bliss shoots through my center and then just increases in strength as he keeps up the circling with one hand and then squeezes my boobs with the other, exactly in rhythm with the drums outside.

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