Prehistoric Mating

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Written by a man for a woman

First and second person "You and I"

First off, if you're looking for just a sex story, either skip to the end or turn back now. This one has quite a bit of story.

Set up so you have an idea what you're getting into:

As I usually do, this story was written from a prompt written by a girl on a certain website.

In it, she was looking for something set in a time of prehistory, when humans were basically animals, or just a step above animals. Language hasn't evolved yet, so she asked for basically no dialogue. She wanted the male character to be dominate, maybe to the point of forcing.

She also wanted a voyeuristic bit in there, were other men were watching, but not allowed to touch. Basically, the male character would be marking his territory in front of the others. She said she was into ripped bodies, big thick cocks, and (in her words) "A dominant mind and a gentle hand and possessiveness", so I tried my best to accommodate. I tried to use terms and reasoning acceptable for the time period, so keep in mind that the requirements for attraction will be different than what modern humans usually seem to think (though I'm hoping still relate able).

Also, I realized after the fact that I wrote this story as if either of the main characters had very little experience with sex before, as if they are exploring an unfamiliar act... I hope that doesn't detract from the story at all.

As usual, I got no response, so now I'm sharing it with all of you. Comments and criticism welcome. I'm hoping to improve my game for the next one.

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My small band of hunters and I are stalking through trees, looking for our next meal. The sun is shining through the dense foliage of the tree tops, allowing some light through, but also casting shade and shadows on the forest floor below. It's late spring, so the forest is rich with deep greens, as well as patches of flowers and lots of berries everywhere of all sorts of shapes and sizes, ranging from deep blues to bright reds. We've already stocked some of our bags with berries, roots, and herbs, but are now looking for the best food of all: flesh.

At a young age, my small clan was decimated by disease, hunting trips gone wrong, and raids by predators and other human clans alike. Eventually, I found myself as a young, small, boy all alone in this harsh world. Alone and feeling weak, I wandered the land in my clans territory, waiting to die. A few days on my own, as fate would have it, I found myself face to face with a large saber cat, staring me down, ready to pounce. Obviously, I was afraid. But as it snarled at me, inching its way closer to me, some new feeling emerged inside me, hard to describe. I stared into its eyes, feeling as if I could see myself in them. I suddenly felt this new urge to survive. But not only survive, but thrive, to take what I want, to be like this saber cat in front of me: confident, strong, dangerous, yet agile, calm, cunning, and precise. And I would start by killing this cat, easily double or triple my weight, and wear it's skin as a sign to others that I am not going to be the weak pushover anymore. I quickly glanced at my surroundings, finding my weapon: a rock of decent size. It was my only hope. The cat lounged at me, and I dodged toward the rock. I picked it up in time to dodge another death swipe but this time bringing myself in closer. I swung with the rock, hitting the cat in the head. In response it slashed at my chest, leaving four claw marks diagonally in my chest. I quickly swung again, this time hitting just the right spot, and the cat fell. I had won.

I turned it's pelt into clothing, it's fangs, claws, and bones into weapons, and it's muscles into food. I set out to learn more and make myself stronger and faster, all the while remaining calm in the face of danger, always looking for an opening to get what I want.

But it's a harsh world, and it's hard to survive by one's self. As time passes, I pass by others who are alone. I bend them to my will, making them apart of my pack, adding to my power. I treat them well once they join my pack, teaching them the things I figure out on my own, giving them fair share of food, but make sure they always know who the stronger one is, of who's in charge, of who they follow. I do this one by one until I have five strong men hunting with me.

We continue to pass through the trees. I had cut my dark blonde hair a moon cycle or two ago with a flint knife to keep it out of my eyes, but it has since grown out a bit. I may have to cut it again soon. Seeing as how it's so warm, I didn't bother wearing my torso covering animal skin today, exposing my muscular chest, broad shoulders, and Sabercat scar to the warm afternoon air. My sculpted arms lead to my large hands, which currently are holding my spear. On my right wrist is an armband I crafted out of wolf's fur of a wolf I killed a little over a season ago, as well as one of it's fangs. Around my waist, a kilt of hide from a bear I killed a little bit before the wolf. It comes down to about my knees, hiding most of my strong legs.

Through the trees, I hear the sound of rushing water, and catch the glimpse of blue. I grunt to my fellow hunters in a way they under stand as "Follow me, water.". Careful of not spooking prey or attracting predators, we stalk toward the water...

***

You emerge from the trees into a clearing. You carefully glance around, looking for any sign of danger. In the clearing is a pond with a decent sized waterfall filling it. On all sides except the way you came are steep hills and cliffs, leading to where the river that feeds the water fall came from. You glance behind you and scan the forest. No movement except from the wind, no sounds of branches breaking, not even the sounds of animals that sound terribly close by. Feeling safe, you walk toward the pond, eager for a drink and to splash some of the cool water against your skin.

Several moons ago, your clan was attacked by warrior men. They outnumbered your clan, and sought your food, your supplies, and your women. A few of them attacked you at the same time, but you're slightly different from the rest of your clan. You're faster, more nimble, and decently strong for your size. In the sparring matches your clan set up to test every one's skills, you haven't lost to ANYONE ever since the blood has started to seep from your nether regions at consistent moon cycles. You managed to fight off a few of them, wanting to help some of your clan. But more warrior men came, and you were chased off. You escaped, but are now alone to fend for yourself. You sought refuge in the woods until you could gather your bearings and figure out what to do.

You place your flint dagger on the sand of the shore and kneel down, scooping up the refreshing clear water with your hands and drink greedily. After a few mouthfuls, you begin to drip some of the water onto your skin enjoying the way the slight breeze hitting the water makes your skin feel cooler on this warm day with the sun bearing down on you. You're so caught up in this sensation, you aren't even aware that you're being watched...

***

My pack and I have made it to the edge of the woods. We see the woman kneeling by the waters edge, you. We see your flint dagger a few arms lengths away. A costly mistake. My pack looks to me, eager for my decision of what to do. I can tell from their eyes: "Kill now or capture?" I continue to observe you. You're all alone. You're only means of escape is in our direction. The odds are stacked heavily toward our favor. I see no need to rush and take you by surprise. So now to decide if we eat you or not...

I give my pack a signal that they've learned to mean "Follow my lead, attack at my call." I then stand up and emerge from the tree line, my pack following me. The stupid one makes the mistake of stepping on the last possible branch he could have, instantly alerting you to our presence. Quickly, you grab your dagger and stand ready, dagger raised, combat stance, looking toward the direction the sudden sound came from. In front of you are five men, decent in size, all with spears aimed at you. In the middle is a sixth man, me, my spear tip resting on my shoulder, not in an attack pose. I glance at the stupid one and give a threatening grunt at him: he's in big fucking trouble. He whimpers and fidgets nervously...

Fear courses through you. However, when you were training with your father, he managed to teach you how to suppress fear, to use it to heighten your senses, to gain a better understanding of your immediate surroundings, to channel more energy to your brain and muscles, allowing you to react and move quicker, all necessary for survival when odds are stacked against you. Like when a saber cat ambushes you on the hunt, or when you suddenly find yourself surrounded by six men. As you apply this, a calming effect flows through you.

You quickly resurvey your surroundings, looking for escape routes and anything that might be useful. You realize the only path of escape is through us, which does not have the "Dash quickly and escape" option. You look toward the tree line and anything that might be of use that it would provide, but my pack stands between you and the tree line. You think about the pond behind you, the water causing resistance, slowing one down. However, you'd reach the water first, causing you to slow down, giving us the speed advantage for precious seconds that might determine your fate. You notice the sand on the beach. The sand by the water line is wet and thick, but the sand farther up is soft and loose, scatters easily. This might be useful...

You wait, ready to react to whatever we do next, an expression of defiance on your face.

I observe you. Your quick reaction time impresses me. The way you stand and hold your weapon shows me you are experienced. Though outnumbered, you seem calm, determined, defiant. If for no other reason, I decide you would make an excellent addition to my pack. I decide then and there that we won't eat you.

I continue to observe you. You're very fit. You seem strong. Your dark brown hair (that comes down to what appears from my vantage point to about your chest or middle back level) seems in healthier condition than most other females I've come across. Your skin also gives off a healthy glow, and, although obviously a bit rough due to the constant exposure to the elements, seems smoother and better taken care of than most humans I've come across. You wear a tight hide top, designed to protect your breasts. It doesn't hide them well, and I can see that they are of desirable size: Not to big as to weigh you down and get in the way of hunting and protecting yourself, but also big enough to healthily support any potential offspring. Your hide bottom covers you from your slender yet acceptable child bearing sized waist, to about mid thigh. Your legs seem strong, yet nimble.

I feel a need growing inside me. A need to make you mine. A need to mate with you. You are an exceptional mating specimen: seemingly capable of providing strong, healthy offspring, and of being of great value to the hunting pack as a whole. It is at this time I decide that I have chosen my mate. I will MAKE you my mate.

I glance around at my pack, giving a short serious of grunts and snarls that they've learned to mean, "Do NOT interfere, this is MY prize." They nod at me, expressions of fear appearing onto then disappearing from their faces. They do NOT want to disappoint me. Flashes of memory of the last member of the pack that disappointed me resolving their loyalty.

I turn my attention back to you. You witnessed the reactions my pack gave to my sounds, and realize that I will be your primary threat, that if you hope to have any chance of getting away, it'll be through me. You raise your dagger a little higher, a clear sign that you're ready to fight me for your freedom.

You quickly size me up, for the first time really observing me in detail sense now you know I'm the one you have to deal with. You observe my large, muscular frame: obviously strong, but experience tells you that bigger muscles are usually slower muscles. I'm taller than you by a few inches, and (given my height and muscle mass) have an obvious weight advantage over you. I seem to be in good health, my hair and skin giving off a healthy glow. You notice a slight bulge in my bear skin kilt, which might be desirable for breeding, but also makes an easier target for a weak point to exploit in a fight. You notice four scratch like scars on my chest, but decide they seem to be to old to be of any real use to you in a fight. My hair is long enough to grab, which might prove useful in split second distractions to gain the upper hand. You catch yourself thinking in essence I might just make good breeding stock in better situations. You ultimately decide that your speed and cunning will be the deciding factor in your victory over me, and your survival. You think that if you could just take me down, even if the rest of my pack attacks you at once, you could survive. My pack doesn't seem terribly impressive in your eyes. Although they seem fit, they seem a bit slow, stupid, or weak in a way you'd be able to manage in a fight. I'm the danger. I'm what you really fear in this situation.

I smile at you, a primitive laugh escaping my mouth. Your continued defiance in a dangerous situation intrigues me. I toss my spear down at the feet of my pack, raise my hands at my sides, palms open, and begin to slowly walk toward you, our difference in size becoming clearer the closer I get. You take note of my clear lack of guard as I approach, trying to quickly think of a way to end this quickly, with my lifeless body on the ground in a pool of my own blood and my worthless (in your eyes) pack scattering away in fear.

I get to about three paces in front of you when you make your move. Quick as a deer, you lunge to your left, then spring toward me, hoping to come at me at my side and take me by surprise, dagger recoiled, ready to plunge into my neck.

I'm faster that you gathered given my large frame. I quickly turn toward you, then dodge backward, making your dagger miss its mark. Not fast enough, though, as your blade manages to make a cut on my cheek, causing some blood to ooze out. When you land, you dig your foot into the loose sand, then kick it upward in a wide arch, spraying sand at my face and eyes, a distraction, a cover for your next move. You lunge toward the center of the sand arch, looking to strike through it and slice my neck. However, I've anticipated your move. I relax my legs, dropping to my knees, and bend backward, causing your blade to slice the air JUST above my nose.

My left hand catches your bladed hand and twists. The sudden pain causing you to drop your dagger on my left side. As I do so, I twist my body, right hand coiling back, then striking you with an open handed fist to your chest, sending you flying away from me, toward the treeline. My left hand quickly reaches the dagger. Grabbing it, I toss it over you toward my pack. You glance back quickly to see where your dagger went, noticing it's just behind one of my pack members. You glance back toward me in time to see me (having quickly regained my footing) lunging at you, grabbing you by the throat.

Your right hand reaches up and grabs my hair, pulling hard to the side while your left hand strikes hard on my inner elbow of the hand around your throat, causing me to pull you in a bit closer toward me. Both sensations of pain causes my grip on your throat to loosen. Taking advantage of this, you twist your body, pulling yourself between my fingers and out of my grip. You quickly hop up onto my upper body, the sudden weight causing me to fall backward onto the sand. Now straddling my chest, you recoil your right hand and make a jab, two fingers stiffly out, for one of my eyes.

I jerk my head to the side, causing your fingers to graze the side of my head and dig into the sand. I then grip your throat again, then twist, turning the both of us over, so that you are now back against the sand with me straddling your lower chest, hand gripping tightly on your throat.

Both of your hands reach up in desperation, trying to gouge at my eyes and nose, anything on my face that might give you the chance to break free. However, with my free hand, I manage to catch both of your hands in just one of mine, and pin them against the sand above your head.

You struggle and twist, trying desperately to find any leeway to be able to move from under me, grunting and screaming as you do. After a moment, it becomes clear that you've lost, and I laugh again at you, smiling.

At first, you are shocked. You've never faced a situation you couldn't fight out of or escape from. You've never met a man that could best you. Your father taught you well.

Yet now, here you are, clearly beaten, this large man dominating you in front of his pack. He is clearly the most fit man you've ever come across, the most capable, the strongest, the most dominant, the Alpha. You look up at him, and he's looking into your eyes, lust and desire burning in them. He IS the mate you feel most worthy of you.

I look down at you, amazed. It's been a long time since ANYONE has given me such a fight. Not even any of my pack members were able to draw blood on me, nor gain the upper hand even once. And yet this woman, this excellent potential new pack member, this exquisite possible breeding partner, had done both. I lean in closer to you, smile, and give out an animalistic groan that seems to say, "You belong to me!"

You look back up at me, and smile a confident smile. You wiggle your hips a bit beneath me, twist your torso a bit, trying to shake your breasts at me. You let out a coo, as if to say, "Yes!"

I release my grip on your throat, and use that hand to gently caress your face. Your skin is smoother than I originally thought, softer and more pleasant than any thing I've felt before. As I caress your cheek, you close your eyes and nuzzle your face against my hand. I begin to trail my hand down your face, gently, over your chin, down your throat, and across your chest. My hand reaches your breasts, and I begin to feel them beneath your hide top. Firm, yet soft, a very pleasant feeling. As I continue to feel them, a soft moan escapes your lips. A sound I very much like and wish to hear more of. I grip your hide top and tug it off, the knot holding it in place roughly coming undone and allowing it to come free. I toss it aside, and now stare at your bare breasts. Again, I begin to feel at them, gently squeezing and rubbing them, enjoying the smoothness of your skin and the sounds you make because of it.

I release my grip on your hands and bring that hand to also feel at your breasts. You sigh at your new freedom, bringing your hands up to feel at my face, run into my hair, and rub against my chest. I enjoy the sensation of your hands on me in a non violent way. I move myself off of you and to your side, moving my hands down to your hide bottoms. I tug them off of you and toss them with your top. I take a moment to examine the newly exposed slit between your legs. I notice there seems to be a bit of wetness down there. Curious, I run my finger gently across them, getting some of the wetness on my fingers. You gasp suddenly, enjoying this sensation, another noise I enjoy. Curious, I bring my fingers to my nose and sniff this wetness. It smells sweet. Experience has taught me that things that smell sweet often taste sweet. I bring my face down to your lower slit and sniff. It still smells tasty. I hesitantly give it a quick lick. This brings another pleasant sounding gasp from your mouth, followed by a low, sexy growl. The taste on my tongue is indeed sweet. I decide I want more. I take my hands and force your legs apart, exposing your slit and giving me better access to it. I begin to lick up and down your slit.