Page 59 of Caveman Alien's Touch

Pushing in, his rod slides slowly into my center. There’s a hint of soreness from before, but the moment those tingles start up again, I forget all about that and just sigh and go limp with pleasure.

“I love this,” Noker growls as he fucks me slowly. “We’re a perfect fit.”

“M-hm,” I agree, half in some kind of parallel existence where the only things that exist are his cock and my pussy. I do my best to be quiet because of the clan below us, but I’m only human and some whimpering escapes me.

Because this is building up to something great. The slow, deep thrusts into me, his unusual features, and the constant tingling is so new to me, I just don’t want it to stop. But at the same time, it’s all pushing me closer to the edge, whether I want to or not.

My cheek rubs against the raw wood of the platform, the air is thick with wood smoke, I’m two hundred feet in the air, and the breeze rustles the treetops above. It should all be too strange, too off-putting, too alien. But I’m being fucked by a caveman alien who’s half dinosaur, and that’s the only thing that matters.

When the climax hits, I shake and bite the heel of my hand to not groan too loudly.

Like last time, Noker tenses up and twitches, and this time I swear I feel his hot juices spraying inside me. At the same time, there’s abangand a blue flash, much more clear in the dark than back at the stream.

“Are you all right?” I ask when I can trust my voice again.

“Just small lightning,” Noker grunts and embraces me tightly. “It happens sometimes.”

“Very strange lightning,” I comment sleepily. “Hopefully it won’t rain.”

He nuzzles my hair. “It won’t. It’s not that kind of lightning.”

“Oh. It’s the other kind, then.”

- - -

It turns out that moving days on planet Xren are much the same as on Earth: endless carrying of items that everyone’s forgotten that they had, grumpy faces and small quarrels about who’s misplaced some small item, a good amount of swearing and some back-breaking lifting. But most times I’ve moved house before, it didn’t involve walking for hours through a jungle where there might be a dinosaur behind any tree.

At the new site, a boy climbs all the way up to the top of a tree and carefully fastens a rope and pulley system up there before he drops one end of a rope, ties himself to the other, and is lowered back down by strong hands. After that, hanging the platform from the treetops is easy.

“Normally, that would be Brak’s task,” Noker says with satisfaction. “But he thinks we won’t be moving for several days. He will be surprised to see how well we’ve done without him.”

Noker makes sure I don’t have to do a lot of work, but I help with moving the youngest members of the clan, and I carry some of the lighter and more delicate items. The clansbrothers do a really good job, showing strengths and abilities I didn’t know they had.

All through it, Noker and Sprisk stay on top of things with friendly encouragement, broad grins, little jokes, and strong hands wherever they’re needed. Those two do most of the work, it seems to me.

“I’m not sure that’s necessary,” I mutter to myself. “Everyone here wants to work.”

I spend most of the day at the new campsite, experimenting with the drap fruits and the clan’s little iron forge, which looks enough like a baker’s oven to be interesting to me. But not much comes of it.

Finally Noker and I inspect the new camp. The trees are unusually tall and strong in this spot, and the clan had to use their complete reserves of rope to hang their platforms properly. The ground is all bare and sharp-edged rocks, so that nobody can leave footprints. Anyone passing through would be too busy getting past the rocks to ever think of looking up and discovering the platforms that hang from the branches.

“Three creeks,” Noker sums up and points into the dense jungle. “There, there, and there. They come together in a small lake in that direction. I want to make a water pump and bury the pipes, so that nobody can see them. Anyone coming here must go uphill, which makes the camp easier to defend. And even then, they have to find a way to defeat our platforms, which can be pulled up to the tops of the trees, completely out of reach. Swords will be of no use for that. We will keep spears and rocks and such up with us, so that we can drop them on the attackers. We’ll be so high up that even an angry kronk won’t be able to reach us!” He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to him.

I smile at his enthusiasm. “And the Borok tribe will help guard it, since it’s on their turf.”

“Exactly. The clan has allies! I’d like to see the outcast that thinks they can attack us now!”

“They have to find the camp first,” I point out. “It’s hard to spot and hard to get to.”

“We’ll make it even harder. We’ll dig traps and place thorn bushes so that only someone who knows the way can reach it.”

“And there are edible plants nearby, you said.”

His face lights up. “Yes! Come, I’ll show you.”

We go down the hill, Noker pointing out where he wants to dig traps and place obstacles. “The game of penk showed me how difficult we can make it for strangers to get here. I owe the Borok tribe sincere thanks for that. Ah, here we are.”

We reach a vibrant cluster of colorful bushes. Their hues range from deep crimson and bright orange to soft lavender and sunny yellow. Interwoven through the whole thing are thin, emerald leaves and delicate white blossoms exuding a sweet, inviting fragrance that seems to beckon the other bushes closer. It’s a tapestry of color and texture, with each bush contributing to the chaotic beauty. There has to be dozens of different plants. It looks like something that was thought up by a brilliant, but drunk gardener who just wanted to see how many different plants you can get to grow in the same spot.

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