Gently Nat's fingers and thumb moved together, their tips sliding up the skin of Sasha's outer lips to rest on their edge, where the sparse hairs stopped and the wetness began; he squeezed, pulling the lips together, hiding and protecting what was within; and then with just one finger he burrowed, pushing past the lips into the wetness beneath, to touch the very edge of her vagina and slip a little way within. Sasha shuddered again and Nat released the lips allowing all of his fingers access. He was surprised at the degree of wetness he encountered, not simply a lubrication but an oily pool of liquid. Sasha was aroused.
Nat stroked and explored, his fingers entered, first one, then two travelling deeper until his hand prevented further movement, and then three, all bunched together, simulating the entry of a penis.
"Yes," whispered Sasha and gently Nat moved his bunched fingers in and out, simulating the motion of intercourse.
In her turn, Sasha was sliding Nat's foreskin up and down—again a simulation of intercourse. It was inevitable their thoughts would turn from simulation to reality.
"Shall we?" said Nat and they moved to lie together on the green mound, holding each other tight, the hardness of Nat between them. They rolled together; Nat on top, pushing Sasha down into the green grass, a friendly weight upon her, something she had thought about a lot. They kissed, tongues wrapping around each other, and Sasha closed her arms around Nat's back pulling him to her. Between her now opened thighs Sasha could feel Nat's erection as it lightly touched first one thigh, then the other as it moved forward seeking; she imagined how it looked hanging there, long and curved with balls suspended below in their scrotal sack. They swung when Nat moved—Sasha liked that. The round end of the penis would be pointing right at her sex; it was so exciting to think of its shiny end inches from her. In a few moments Nat would pull himself a little up her body and that knob end would touch her, touch her where she was so soft and felt so wet. Would he pause or move onwards to open her? What would it feel like—at last—to be penetrated, to feel herself opened by a real penis and know it hard within her? Different from fingers she was sure. Sasha spread her legs wider and then it happened.
Nat's cock touched her, touched her where she most wanted to be touched, right at her entrance and it felt wonderful, but at that very moment there was a change, an alteration in the air, a softening of the light, a feeling of difference, a sense that all was not as it had been. A familiar smell came to Sasha, the vegetal smell of crushed herbs, and then she heard the sound of voices.
All around her Sasha could see shadowy shapes becoming substantial, commencing, though she did not know it, a ritual they had undertaken for centuries. The scent of herbs became stronger, the image of otherness more substantial. She was no longer on a grassy mound, no longer under the clear blue sky, no longer alone with her boy. Instead she was in a room, a high hall and lying on a table still with the weight of Nat upon her, his cock still touching her between her legs; a room full of people all around her; looking at her. Painted men, painted women. Naked people with their skin coloured, coloured from head to foot, painted or perhaps dyed it was hard to tell. The men red or blue, even their penises coloured and the women painted red or white. When they lent over, Sasha could see their eyelids were coloured. It was, unearthly and strange, it was frightening. Nat leapt up from her and she too made to get up but hands came; coloured hands preventing her rising; not hard hands, not rough with her but very gentle; coaxing her, encouraging her to lie down again; whilst at the same time hands were taking hold of Nat, easing him from her, taking him away from her; separating the two of them. Nat with his now shrinking penis, a penis she had so wanted inside her
There was a commotion; the people thrust to one side, pushed this way and that, falling blue, red or white from the rush of the biggest, strangest man Sasha had ever seen—if man he was. A naked man, naked but covered in dark, dark hair; not just his mane of hair and his beard but all down his chest, his arms, his legs, his back, his feet, his hands. Covered like a beast—even his very obvious penis was part covered in dark hair. He roared when he saw Sasha and made for her, his arms outstretched and his penis lengthening. The company, recovering, held him back, coloured hands restraining him, holding his fur, stopping him before he could reach Sasha but all the time his eyes were on Sasha and the state of his enormous club like penis made no secret of his object. Her eyes were wide with fear, one moment she had been ready to accept Nat, had so wanted him to be inside her, and now there was this wild man seemingly intent on taking her. Despite all the other naked bodies around him, in the room, it was she he was staring at and trying to reach, his outsize penis rigid and seemingly aimed between her legs.
The attempts to hold him appeared only partly serious, half hearted as if, to the onlookers, there was no real threat. As they held him the men and women were laughing, calling to the beast, poking at the wild man; there was no fear in their eyes, instead they seemed to see it all as a joke; hands holding his fur, others stroking and placating him; there were even hands, small delicate hands painted white, stroking the beast's erection, uncovering its club like head, working it as she had seen Nat work his own erection in her dreams. Below the raised staff of his penis the creature's balls swung in their pendulous sack, more reminiscent of the bull in the field than a man. The beast seemed to like the caress, but was still pulling to be free, his eyes fixed on Sasha, his massive dark hairy thighs trying to push forward, but there were restraining arms around them holding them back; his great arms were struggling for release, his mouth making inarticulate sounds as he fought against his captors, but to no avail; and all the time the small white painted hands worked his penis, small white painted hands lifted and played with his enormous balls, the size of cricket balls, and the women smiled up at Sasha, seeking perhaps to reassure her that she was in no danger from the wild man, no danger from his maleness.
The red men seemed to be teasing the beast, tormenting it, pretending to let go so that he started forward trying to get at Sasha, and then catching him again, holding him back, his great head with its shaggy main and beard looking side to side in annoyance; and all the time the white women stroked. It did not seem as if this was for the first time, rather the teasing had been done many times before.
Sasha could do nothing but stare, despite the shock of her dislocation, the presence of so many strangers and the removal of Nat, her eyes were fixed in trepidation upon the wild man. What if he was released, what would that penis do to her, were they actually teasing her not him? She watched the white hands sliding the covering of the great penis head, stimulating it; pulling at it, she hoped; to such an extent that it would release its fluid and so remove the threat to her. There were five or six white hands upon it, caressing and stroking; surely they would have an effect soon.
There was laughter, there was jollity and palpable happiness; a festive mood which not even Sasha in her fear and surprise could mistake; a sense of relief and of joy.
Still the white women teased the great hairy man, bouncing his penis up and down, Sasha had not seen the like—it was so huge. There was a sudden exertion and the wild man was almost free; a last attempt to get to Sasha, to cover her naked body and gain entry; but it was too late, the white women and the sight of Sasha naked on the table had taken him too far and he could not prevent the inevitable result.
The coming of the wild man was accompanied by a great roar, his shaggy head fell back and his mouth let out the sound, a cry of frustration and anguish mixed with pleasure, a sound that echoed around the room and quietened the happy throng; the white hands withdrew leaving the great club like penis unrestrained, unattended and standing free; and then it happened. Just as Sasha watched in amazement and the whole company looked on, the penis jerked upwards, its great, shiny, bulbous head traversing an arc, the enormous balls drew up an inch or two as if lifted by an invisible hand and the head began to spurt. A streamer of semen shot from the end of the penis and, rising into the air, traversed a parabola for a remarkable distance before falling down onto Sasha's naked skin; the penis dropped down a little before bouncing up again to release another stream of milky, creamy fluid to make another flight through the air.
To Sasha it seemed as if time had slowed and the colourful world dropped out of focus as she stared at the enormous spurting penis and the impossible flight of the semen. It could only be that the size of the man and the evident strength of his body had its reflection in the development of those muscles used in ejaculation, the power very considerably exceeding what she had seen, or was it dreamt, of Nat's ejaculation in the copse.
Again the semen came, as the beast roared and his unrestrained penis twitched sending a third jet even higher; there was no control of direction and it did not simply fall on Sasha but others too; suddenly there was laughter, cheering and clapping as the wild man continued to perform—a virtuoso performance indeed. As the clapping ran around the hall so did the wild man's semen until there was no more to come. Still dripping, the standing rod began to lose its firmness and, similarly, with the ejaculation done all the strength seemed to go out of the beast himself. Upon his face was a look of disappointment and resignation and slowly he turned, the men letting go of his fur and, head a little bowed, he went out of the room; hands patting and stroking him as he went.
Across the room Sasha could see Nat looking as shocked as herself, restrained like her by hands, the hands of pretty women, hands not just holding his body but holding his penis as well, keeping it hard—the cock she had been so looking forward to having inside her. Why were they prevented from that? Were others, coloured others, going to have him in her stead?