My Travels with Clytemnestra Ch. 01byZoZa©
((Author's note: This is the first thing I've written since school, which was a long time ago now. It started off as a fairly crazy idea to simply set down a fantasy I had as prose and grew from there.
Be warned, it features moderately strong wetting/watersports and knicker-fetish themes, if that's not your taste, turn back.))
I suppose I simply... Willed myself here? It's not a good explanation but it's the only one I have. Wherever 'here' is?
Everything is different, if familiar. I'm on a worn earthen path surrounded on both sides by trees. A forest of broad-leafed deciduous trees of the kind I'd expect to see at home. The air, though is warm, tropically so, and laden with sweet, exotic scents that I do not recognise. Fruits, flowers, spices and other, more earthy, fecund smells that I've never encountered before but understand on a deeper, animal level. Sounds of birdsong and gentle arboreal rustling back my every movement.
It's all unfamiliar, I swear I've never been here, but I feel comfortable. Moreso than I ever have before. I feel... At peace. There are splashes of deepest blue sky visible through the canopy and the warm weather makes me feel happy, as it always does.
I'm different too, I realise, examining myself. Same old me, but better. I'm dressed all in white, which is odd. I never dress like that, and my midriff is showing! My waist is so narrow! I'm wearing a long white skirt and a short, sleeveless white shirt which shows my navel and the trail of dark hair leading down from it into my skirt.
My little breasts are even smaller! I think my nipples are bigger, though. They jut through the fabric and I cannot help but feel a frisson at the sensation of tight cloth across them. When I look down a long, long plaited ponytail falls across my chest. My own brown hair turned black, but so much longer.
Glasses! I'm not wearing any, but I can see with perfect clarity! I reach up and feel the bridge of my nose, there's not even the indentation that'd show I ever wore them.
I lift my skirt a little, tall boots of soft white leather and white woollen knee-socks come to light. When I take a step I realise that my knickers must be at least a couple of sizes too small, they hug me tightly. Irresistibly I take a look inside the waistband of my skirt. White. Plain white cotton knickers, definitely too small, excitingly so. They put noticeable pressure on my sex with every movement of my hips. A goodly amount of pubic hair peeks from around the edges, stark black against the white, it reaches all the way to my navel in a dense treasure trail. I peek within my little white pants, with a little difficulty, they are tight! There's a lot of hair there, more and more dense than I ever had before. Same goes for my armpits when I check.
My whole body is... Is similar to the way it should be, only better. My bare stomach is flat and toned, I think I even see the suggestion of ribs. My skin, what I can see of it is pale and without blemish, like I've been expertly airbrushed. Not enough to look artificial, but enough to look very, very good.
I'm not sure how long I've been standing here, wherever here is, but I think I'd better do something. The path isn't very wide, and grown with grass in patches, as though disused, but it's fully usable. In either direction it travels, curving after a dozen yards one way or two dozen the other, no clues as to where it may lead. I don't know which way to go, forward or back seem the same.
I decide to go forward simply because that's the way I'm facing. Perhaps a little fun first, though.
I stand here, hands behind my back, eyes closed, legs together and concentrate for a moment. It only takes a moment, these days. So unlike the first few times I tried, when it could take half an hour or more of effort.
I feel the warmth spread over my groin. So hot, so wet. I shiver when it begins to trickle down my inner thighs. The flow gets very strong very fast and my knickers are soaked, the stream penetrates them and a wet patch grows on the front of my white skirt as more and more piss flows down the inside of my legs. I feel it soak into my socks and the patch on my skirt gets bigger yet, staining the white cloth light yellow.
Maybe it's my too-tight knickers, but I hadn't realised how much pressure there was on my bladder, how full I was. I piss for such a long time! Loving every second of the hot, wet feeling. It flows down both legs, stroking them, almost. I'm tempted to touch myself but I know from experience that that only spoils the moment. I finish peeing, the last drops mixing with the juice of my aroused sex. The wet spot on my skirt is huge, all the way from waistband to the hem down at my ankles. The puddle beneath my feet is bigger yet and spreads in thick, dark rivulets across the hot, packed earth.
Well, that tells me something too. I never wet myself unless I'm certain I won't meet anyone before I have the chance to clean myself up. Wherever this place is, it's affected more than just my body. For all I know anyone could come around the corner right now and see me standing here in a puddle of piss rubbing myself through my soaked skirt.
I set off down the path, savouring the strong smell of ammonia as it mingles with the other scents in the air, and exhilarating in that binding, rubbing feeling one only gets when walking with inner thighs drenched in one's own piss.
My wet legs now feel deliciously cool but they dry quickly in the warm air, like my skirt and unlike my knickers which are flooding with another substance entirely... I wonder if I should stop and take care of that, but I want to see where this path leads.
Clearly, my body is fitter than I feel it ought to be, as evidenced by my complete lack of fat, and my toned tummy. Despite the heat I'm making good progress, and not tiring at all. Although I am getting a little thirsty. Damn, I'm starting to wish I hadn't wasted all my pee on the ground. Only makes you thirstier in the long run of course, but I guess it'd have solved the problem briefly and been fun.
The forest clears and I see the lake. Truly this place is good to me.
The woods circle it, forming a clearing perhaps a mile across, with a river flowing into it about a quarter-way around and I guess another flowing out somewhere. Oddly, the heat's no worse as I step out of the shade. Even a little ameliorated by a gentle breeze.
There are baroque purple mountains with jaunty snow caps on the horizon to my left, the same direction from whence the river flows. Before me, the lake sparkles in the bright sunlight, little ripples and waves throwing golden reflections at me as I approach through the thick, broad-bladed grass that grows here.
I stop on the edge, tempted to drink, but holding back. The water is so clear that I can see the stony bed, even as I cast my eye far out from shore. But then, the things that I'm worrying about aren't visible, are they? I look around, there are no birds on the water, though a few fly overhead from time to time, I think I see a kestrel, or some similar hovering raptor.
Then I hear a rustling, more pronounced than the gentle movement of the trees which have accompanied me since I arrived here. Turning I see her. Just emerging from the same path that had brought me here, she sees me in the same moment.
She's a centaur. Clear as day and just as obvious. I'm stunned, immobile, I can but drink her in. Eight or nine feet tall, easily and at least six long. Her equine coat is glossy black all over, save white coronet markings which I glimpse as she approaches. Powerful muscles flow under her skin and and I find myself considering the terrible strength she must possess.
If only for a moment -- as I am quickly drawn to her hominine part. She is flawless. Straight-backed with lithe, sinewy muscles and rich brown skin. Her hair is shortish and a little scruffy, but shows off her cute, pointed ears. She smiles when she sees me and it just lights up her whole face, I cannot help but smile back, disarmed and suddenly relieved of the sense of dread that I hadn't even noticed building.
She's not wearing much. A small, at least for her, leather halter top that holds her plump breasts perfectly still, and a wide belt about the base of her hominine torso. That might've been the source of my dread. There's a brobdingnagian two-handed sword on her right and a rifle every bit the sword's equal in a rifle-scabbard on her left along with a pair of satchel like bags. Even the rifle cartridges in the loops of the belt are as long as my hand.
She walks right up to me as I stand rooted to the spot, and places her right hand on my shoulder. I imagine it's some sort of greeting but I certainly cannot return it, so I settle for smiling hopefully and wishing I could say something.
"Clytemnestra," she says, her voice musical and utterly feminine, surprising in a being so large.
"My name is Clytemnestra," she smiles still, and I stammer out my name, at which she squeezes my shoulder and lets go.
"You're a traveller, like me?" she asks.
"I suppose?" Well, it's as good a answer as any, "I... I wanted a drink," glance at the lake, "Is it safe to drink?"
"But of course," she looks confused for a moment, the question was not one she'd been expecting, "Will you join me?"
With that she releases the buckle of her belt and lowers it, with its cargo to the ground, her halter top follows a moment later and she walks into the water. I can merely stare at her.
A moment later I am undressing as swiftly as I ever have, throwing off my white clothes and dancing excitingly into the cool water. My breath catches at the sudden chill and Clytemnestra laughs like a child, her magnificent body wet and glowing in the sun, her breasts jiggling with her mirth. She cups her hands and drinks deeply of the water, as do I a moment later.
As a drink, I hate water, I don't like the taste at all, but this is different. Like everything here, the same, but somehow better. I drink until my stomach is taught and sloshing while farther out where it's deeper Clytemnestra smooths water over herself, washing the dust and sweat from her skin and coat.
I try to get nearer but very soon the water is up to my chin and I'm still a good way from her, unwilling to put my very weak swimming to the test. She walks to me until her bow-wave washes over my face and I come up spluttering and have to retreat. She splashes me again and again until I fall backwards and simply lay there, floating on my back as she towers over me, dark skin running with water. The light breeze has made her nipples hard and from where I lie looking up they are silhouetted wonderfully against the bottomless sky.
In a moment she is gone and I stay, floating and reflecting on the sight, my hand strays toward my centre, but I catch it in time, lest she notice. Standing again I see Clytemnestra walking from the lake, water running from her body, hair and tail plastered down and little droplets flinging, sparkling, from her hands and hooves as she moves.
I want to follow her, but I cannot imagine what I'd do or say. Part of me wants to stay here in the cool water, too. I dither for a moment before following her and trusting to fate that I can find some way to talk to this magnificent woman.
I reach the shallows and cannot help but look over my naked form, my arms and legs are wiry with small, hard muscles and I can definitely discern my ribs, albeit subtly. Every square inch of my crotch is covered in dark hair, longer, denser and greater in area than before, it's something to behold.
When I look up Clytemnestra is standing by the little white pile of my clothes, she's in the act of rising and has a scrap of white in her hand. My knickers! She brings them to her nose and inhales deeply as she looks me right in the eyes.
I nearly stumble, stunned for the second time.
"It was you," she says as I stagger from the water.
She takes another big breath, holding the gusset right to her nose.
"I wondered if it had been. It was you who pissed all over the path," she walks imperiously toward me until she's standing so close that I have to look almost straight up to see her face framed between those wonderful breasts.
Before I can reply, if even I could, she presses my nasty knickers to my nose and despite myself I smell them. I enjoy the smell of piss and my own juice as she holds the little pants to my face and the next thing I know they're gone to be replaced by her own face. She kisses my roughly, leaning down and pulling me to her. Her long tongue forcing its way between my lips.
She may have perfect human proportions from the waist up, but everything about her human part is bigger. To scale with the rest of her. Her tongue is long and thick and I am sucking it as much as I am kissing her.
"Mm," is all Clytemnestra offers as she settles onto her knees and then further until she is lying before me, putting us almost on eye level.
She takes another long sniff at my knickers and as soon as she finishes I kiss her again, holding tight around her and feeling her firm breasts against my own tiny titties. I'm lost in the sensation. The feel of her breasts, her smell. The sound of my heart beating so very hard. The taste of her lips. The taste of her tongue exploring my mouth, the honey pooling between my legs. The kiss only ends when I gasp as her fingers trace my cunt. She takes the opportunity to raise them to her mouth and lasciviously lick my juices from them.
I look into her eyes and see only lust, burning like fire, she seizes me and I'm spun around to face away from her even as she clamps me to her. One hand roughly mauls at my breasts, the other again seeks my dripping cunt. She hauls my legs apart with irresistible strength exposing my furry slit. I try to moan as she strokes my opening, but her mouth covers mine.
Her fingers press against my needy cunt sending electric waves of pleasure through me, wonderfully counterpointed as her other hand gently tweaks my nipple. Suddenly her tongue is gone from my mouth replaced by her fingers, and I greedily suck on my own mild flavour.
She's biting on my ear now as her arm holds me ever tighter to her and her other hand returns to my bush. I strain to look down as her fingers disappear into my thick hair and cry out as she suddenly strokes a fingertip across my clitty. I'm hers utterly. My world is her hot breath in my ear, her strong arm around my chest, her wonderful, wonderful fingers caressing my cunt to heights undreamed. A feedback loop of pleasure from my clit to my nipples and back again.
She strokes her fingers faster and faster through my wet slit, she rubs at my clit until I'm convulsing with pleasure and she kisses me as I come. I come harder than I ever thought possible, unable even to kiss back.
She lets me fall to the ground where I lie, mewling as she licks her hand clean and takes another sniff of my pissy knickers. She stands and reaches down, all the way down to help me to my feet. I'm still a little unsteady and another long kiss doesn't help, I hold her close and she me. My feet leave the ground entirely, my weight nothing to her as she shares her hot, wild kiss with me.
But that's not enough for her, not right now. I understand that wholly as she puts me back on the ground and without a word, turns her back on me. Her tail, almost dry now from the warm air, swishes restlessly and I can see her sex, dripping wet and pulsating. Glossy black outer lips winking wide to reveal the sweet pink within.
How can I refuse? How can I resist?
I moan her name, "Clytemnestra," that name to me right now is all that is woman, and all that is sex.
I can wait no longer and lean forward to lick her slick equine sex from bottom to top. That alone makes her sigh contentedly but I don't stop there. I fall to with enthusiasm, lapping, licking, caressing that most extraordinary cunt. Sweet sighs of feminine joy rewarded me. Sighs and so much nectar, slightly thicker and more flavourful than my own, a little bitter and salty, and I insatiably drink down every drop with questing tongue and long, sucking kisses.
With my left hand I explore the folds of her creamy cunt, finding her hard, jutting button with ease and stroking it with my thumb, while never letting up with my tongue. Clytemnestra cries out for pleasure and stamps a hoof the moment I touch her there. Her breathing becomes more erratic even as her cries become softer moans of pleasure and I devour her with my lips and tongue. Her juices coat my face, my hand, my neck, flowing down across my chest as our lovemaking goes on.
My other hand reaches under her, and I soon find my target there between her legs: her nipples, her other, equine nipples. Big and stiff, I have my revenge for her abuse of my breasts, rubbing her clitty with my left hand and rolling one nipple and then the other with my right. The first tweak of her nipple makes her cry out, the next, sigh and her transports grow to a higher plane still.
Her tail is sticking high in the air above me, the long hair tickling my back as I give her my all. When she comes it's like an earthquake. She cries aloud and her flanks and dock shake powerfully. The force of her orgasmic spasms knocks me to the ground and I look up, dazed, as she stamps and roars her pleasure to the world. Womanly fluids cascade from her quaking cunt and part of me can only lament that I am not there to receive them.
She looks over her shoulder, smiling that smile I so love, "Not bad, sweetie."
I wonder how to respond... Flippancy or nonchalance, or a declaration of love, or lust at least. Clytemnestra doesn't give me time. She's still looking at me over her shoulder and even as I try to summon some response her tail swishes to the side and a strong, hot jet of liquid strikes me. That brings me back to my senses very fast. I open my mouth trying to catch her precious pee. The stream is powerful and so very, very hot and there's so much. I can swallow only a fraction as it plays all over my face and body, my eyes shut tight and my mouth open wide questing for the hot salt flavour.
It's over too soon and I'm drenched in her piss, sitting in a huge puddle that even now is soaking into the rich earth. For the second time, Clytemnestra picks me up and kisses me lustily. A long, sloppy kiss that intermixes with her licking my face and neck. I return it eagerly, and wrap my arms and legs about her torso, grinding my hairy cunt against her belly and smearing her piss all over her. She licks my cheek one last time.
"Enough... Enough! Ooh, that's quite enough, lady," she laughs trying to put me down.
"Not for me!"
"Is that so?" She canters into the lake again and heaves me across the water with a mighty throw. I squeal, flailing all my arms and legs and am suddenly doused. Struggling to the surface coughing I cannot help but just laugh just as she is.
She splashes over to me and dumps big double-handfuls of water over my head, rubbing her hands over my naked body, washing her pee off of my skin, out of my hair and I do the same for her, as best I am able. Both of us let our hands linger on our favourite parts of one another's anatomy. Both of us share many kisses, some brief, some not so as we play in the cool water.
We lie on the soft grass as the sun and the warm air dry our naked bodies. I lie against Clytemnestra. The sensation of her slow, powerful breathing a strange pleasure to me.
"Where are you going?" she asks. I have not moved, but that's not what she's asking, I think. I'd called myself a traveller.
"I don't know where I am. Maybe I'm there already?"
"That's no answer, little one."
"It's all I have," I reply, a little petulantly, looking up at her. She's not looking at me, but across the lake, "Where are we?"