My Travels with Clytemnestra Ch. 01

"Maybe it has a name, I don't know. Should one wonderer who doesn't know where she is expect better from another?"

"You're a traveller too?"

She looks at me over her shoulder and nods, "But I know where I'm going."

I wait for her to continue, and she does, "Everywhere. The world is more beautiful than we can know. Larger than we can feel. Filled with more and more interesting people than we can imagine."

"I believe you," I say, almost a whisper. Her voice is so sincere. She speaks almost religiously.

"Why just today I made love to a stranger and then threw her in a lake! Imagine what tomorrow may bring."

"If you like, you could make love to her again."

She licks her lips and seems to think over the idea.

"I could... unless of course..."

"Unless?"

"We're both travellers, but you think you may have arrived, and I have not. I go on."

"I think I have arrived. I think you're my destination. So if you go on, so do I, for as long as you'll have me."

I stand and kiss her again.

"I'd like that," she puts her hand on my shoulder again and this time I can do the same, which makes her smile. I love her smile most of all.

"Where are you going next?"

She looks across the lake, "North, But I don't know what I'll find. What we'll find. These woods are big and I don't expect to be free of them for a little time. I think we'll stay here the night.. I had not expected to pause for so long and I doubt we'll find a better spot before nightfall."

I look at the sky. The sun has moved but a little, westering since I'd entered the clearing, it is maybe mid afternoon. I wonder if the days are twenty four hours here, but I don't much feel like asking a question like that.

I nod, "That's wise, this is a perfect place." Since I'm beginning to feel a little self conscious of my nakedness, I start to dress. Funny, that. I am a little self conscious, but I should be mortified to be naked, and to have done such lewd things with a stranger.

I put on my clean white blouse and my messy white knickers. After a moments thought, though, I take my skirt and socks down to the shore and rinse them in the lake. Whether it's a property of the cloth or this strange, pleasant to drink water, I could not say but the pale yellow stains vanish almost immediately, cleansed as though by touch alone. After a moment's thought I wring them and put them straight on. A little primitive perhaps but body heat is a very efficacious way to dry clothes.

Clytemnestra has produced a half-loaf of rich brown read from her satchel and offers me some when I've slipped my white boots on. It's dense and very flavourful, if perhaps a little stale.

"Where's your pack?" she asks when I thank her for it.

"I... I'm wearing everything I own," I conclude, weakly. I'd not considered that, until now. I have literally nothing but the clothes I stand up in.

"Robbed?"

"No, I... I... Well, I never intended to be here, or to go anywhere. Come to think of it I doubt I could have packed if I'd known before hand."

"Ah, you're a runaway. What are you running from?"

"Life, I suppose. My old life?"

She thinks on that for a while, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

"Thanks, Clytemnestra," I love saying that name.

I eat a little more and thank her again for the food, for want of anything more useful to say, and for fear of the conversation ending. I'm beginning to understand that she has a taciturn streak to her, and I'm often at a loss for words, a symptom of the somewhat unusual day I'm having, no doubt.

"Won't last," she says, and clarifies, "The food. I've only got a little."

So saying, she stands and sweeps up her halter top, fastening it about her chest and denying me the view that I had been enjoying these last few moments. Her broad belt follows thereafter.

"Where are you going?"

"To get some food," she clarifies the statement by drawing her rifle from it's scabbard. It's easily six feet long with two barrels arranged over and under, I don't doubt it'd break a human's collar bone. She breaks it and slides two huge cartridges home before snapping it closed again.

"Can I come with you?"

"Can you stalk?"

Well, yes I can, I'd hunted small game often as a youngster. I tell her as much but she looks doubtfully at my long skirt, and then at the fairly dense forest and I'm forced to concede the point. Clytemnestra takes a hatchet from her bag and hands it over, asking me to make a fire.

I wonder how a woman of her size will fair in there, but she must know what she's doing and I let it go as she vanishes almost immediately upon passing the border.

I heft the hatchet experimentally, for Clytemnestra it's a hatchet, for me a good sized axe. I select a smallish tree with suitable looking limbs and start to hack at them. I've never cut wood before and it's not as easy as it looks. My new body may be fit, but I don't have the technique and I make rather a hash of it over the twenty minutes or so that it takes me to hack half a dozen limbs from the tree with this over-sized axe.

I carry them back to the lake shore and select a suitable spot away from the grass or anything else flammable looking. The part I'd really dreaded is now. No matches, no lighter, no tools of any kind save the axe. Thinking about a lighter makes me want a cigarette. One more problem, but a minor one compared.

A quick examination reveals that all of the stones on the shore are sedimentary, not a sign of flint, not that I think I could make a fire with flint and the axe. I dither for a few more minutes before I hear a boom and a roaring, rolling echo from behind me. I take that as a sign that Clytemnestra's had more success than I and decide to wait for her.

Presently, Clytemnestra emerges from the trees, rifle stowed and a wild pig lolling over her withers, held still with a careless hand.

"Fire?" she asks.

"I don't know how," I admit, "I've never had to make fire before, at least, not without tools."

She giggles good naturedly and drops the pig to the floor exposing a mighty exit wound in its side.

"Then I probably should have left you this," it's a little metal cylinder, a tinderbox, in fact. I've never seen one in person before and I cannot help but be fascinated as Clytemnestra kneels, and strikes sparks onto the charcloth, and then lights the kindling I'd already arranged. I doubt I'd have managed things half so well even if she had left me the tinderbox.

I think I score a few points back when I'm happy and confident to help butcher the pig. Even if I'd only dealt with rabbits, geese, ducks and pheasants before. My dad would have been most unhappy to raise the sort of girl who couldn't handle cutting up the animals she'd shot. Clytemnestra has a long knife, it looks to me more like a fighting knife than a survival one, but we cut the flesh into long strips that can be cooked over our fire and share a little more of her bread. We cook as much as we can, to keep for the next day or two.

I wonder at the whole affair. I'd have thought -- if I'd thought about it at all -- that centaurs would be herbivores. Clytemnestra certainly isn't, she eats with gusto and eats a great deal, too. I cannot recall the last time I've enjoyed a meal so. Partly it's the food, fresh meat always tastes better, and there's a lot to be said for it being cooked over an open fire. I think it's also very likely that the meat in this world is as superior as everything else seems to be too. Mostly though, I revel in the company.

I immerse myself in simply being near Clytemnestra. She is the most sexually appealing woman of whom I can conceive, and moreover I start to understand that I simply like being with her on an entirely non-sexual level. Even though she says little as we eat I luxuriate in her presence.

By the time we've butchered, cooked and eaten the pig -- and frankly, Clytemnestra did most of all of those things -- the sun has vanished behind the trees. We've spoken little. I think she wants to talk to me, but is unsure what to say. She seemed several times to be on the verge of speaking, only to see me look and change her mind.

"Clytemnestra... I want to thank you..."

"For the best sex you've ever had?"

"Uh..."

"Absolutely my pleasure, lady," she swoops in and kisses me, laughing.

"Not just for that," I struggle to get back on track before my lust gets the better of me, "I want to thank you for... Well, everything. I think we've established that I'm woefully unsuited to being out here and I'm pretty lucky you showed up."

"Everything happens for a reason. I got lucky too."

"How so?" I ask.

"No, listen -- I got lucky too."

I stare at her for a moment, not sure how to respond to her taking something heartfelt and making a pun in reply.

She seems to understand what I'm thinking, "Awww... don't be like that. Everything really does happen for a reason and when two people meet, both are equal in fortune. So take everything as it comes, give thanks if you want, but it's more important to be happy, and I am."

"Me too."

I sit pondering her philosophy as she stands and walks away without another word. She walks to the shore and produces a large canteen which she empties on the ground before refilling it, drinking and filling it again. I'm starting wonder how voluminous those satchels are given the things she carries in them.

"Clytemnestra... I er... I suppose you haven't any tea in there, have you?"

"Not a leaf."

That's a real shame. Not to be any less casual than she I take up her axe again and go to cut a little more wood, lest the fire go out overnight.

She lies by the fire as I return, the sight, as she is lit against the deepening twilight is inspiring. I dump the wood a little way from the fire and then move to stand by her side.

"Are you... Oh!" whatever she's about to say is interrupted as I put one arm around her shoulders and with the other hand, cup a perfect breast, squeezing slightly through the leather.

If she's going to say anything more I'll never know as I kiss her lips. I kiss her and circle in front to embrace her properly. I love the addicting feelings that flow through my body when I kiss her, when I feel her warm, soft lips against mine. Her lust grows with mine, our hard, sensuous kiss sharing feelings, needs that must be satisfied.

I hold her with all my strength. Her arms are around me too, but far from still. She strokes my neck, my back, and runs her fingers down to my bottom. I gasp into her mouth when she gropes my arse coarsely and slides her hand beneath my waistband and between my cheeks. I break the kiss and stare into her great dark eyes. She leans forward and bites my lower lip, pulling me to kiss her again as her hand paws wantonly at my bum.

That's all I need to start fumbling for the laces that hold her top closed and even distracted as I am I soon haul it over her head and have at my prize. I excitedly kiss her soft, firm breasts. I lick the dark flesh and trail my teeth lightly across her sensitive skin biting gently, as she thrusts them eagerly toward me.

My sex is wet with arousal. So wet, I'm certain I must be juicier in this world than I ever have been before, and by a long, long way.

I take a dark brown nipple gently between my teeth and pull ever so slightly before closing my lips about it. I risk a slightly harder nip and she squeaks in excitement. I can hear her long tail swish through the grass, and feel as she arcs her back thrusting those dark orbs forward. I trace the tip of my tongue around her stiff nipple and flick it over the tip. Her hands close around my head and she brings me up for a quick, hard kiss on the lips before directing me to her other breast.

Clytemnestra moans as I nip and suck at her stiff nipple. My hand is inside my knickers and I moan too, stroking my centre. She takes her other bud between her fingers and tugs it obscenely. That gives me the confidence to be a touch rougher, biting and tugging until she cries aloud. I bite her with exquisite care, as she gasps my name.

She reaches for my waist unfastening my skirt and it drops to the ground, the white cloth a pool of orange in the firelight. With that she's out of my grip, rolling onto her back.

"Give it to me!" she calls, pulling at me with her hands even as all her legs kick at the sky. She pulls me down upon her and I settle my cotton covered snatch to her lips.

I try to pull the crotch of my pants aside and she swats my hand away, licking at the sopping, stained material for her own pleasure and pressing with her lips for mine. I rock my hips and fuck myself on her mouth as her hands seize my own and bring them to her proud breasts.

Somehow she speaks again, "Give it to me, lady!" and I do.

I'm thankful I've had so much practice, enough to pee almost at will. It takes but a moment to feel the thrill as my already wet cunt floods her face with hot piss. I grind my cunt against her hard working mouth, waves of ecstasy radiating from my clit as she struggles to swallow the piss filtering through my much abused knickers.

She grips me about the hips and guides my motion. Her lips and the fabric of my knickers stimulate my little clitty as she works hard to swallow. Her face is all wet, my thighs too. Her teeth rub against my lips through thin, wet cloth. I hump her face, pissing all over it and whimpering inarticulate noises to the darkness.

I quiver as orgasm builds within my racked body and collapse upon Clytemnestra's supine form, sobbing with pleasure as I come, piss still leaking from my hairy cunt and she still drinking it down and licking me down from the heights of pleasure.

"You're the best," I pant, "You're the best, you're the best, you're the best."

"Then we're almost even," she says as I try to crawl off her. She pulls me back, "almost." Se laughs a happy innocent laugh at odds with what she's just done and I have to kiss her.

I kiss her sodden lips, I lick my pee from her face, I taste it in her mouth, I drink it from the hollow above her collar bone, I kiss her again and again and again. Long wet wonderfully obscene kisses of lust and greed.

"You taste good, don't you?" she she asks between kisses.

"I do," I kiss her again, "but not," I lick her wet neck, "As good as you," I stand and walk to the other end of her long body, trailing a fingernail from her navel, all the way down her equine underbelly to her sex and eliciting a squeal of thrill for it.

It's dark and I can scarcely see the pink folds within her quivering black quim but I can smell her arousal, overpowering and erotic beyond words. The ground and the base of her tail are wet with her love as I sit and lean forward to lick all the way from her dock up across her sphincter to her clit and further up until my face is between her spread rear legs and my lips find her erect nipples. Again she moans as I nibble her stiff buds and roll them between my fingers, tweaking them harder this time and making her gasp with pleasure and pain.

I continue to suck and tease at her nipples while my fingers move back down. I feel the rough, winking, dripping lips and the soft, soft texture of her needy wet sex. I smell her arousal now underscored with the deeper scent of her coat, her body.

My fingers brush teasingly along her lips until I know her frustration must be growing unbearable and then I glide just one into her centre as my thumb seeks her hard pleasure button and she shivers all over, almost coming. I bite just a little harder to bring her down and she grunts in pain and denial.

I want to touch my own flooded twatt so badly but this is her time.

She moans harder as another finger enters her pink folds, and then another and I wonder just how many she can take in her equine cunt. I slide three fingers into her and out again, rubbing her clitty with my thumb. Her juices splash on my wrist and on my thighs. I can wait no more, she takes four fingers easily and on the next stroke I fold my thumb against my palm and slide within her slick sex as she wails her joy.

My lips leave her abused nipples and seek instead her clitty as I pump my closed fist inside her deep horse cunt. Her body surges back against me with every thrust of my arm into her. Her walls squeeze me so tight it almost hurts. A flood of wet love accompanies every out stroke, a gasp and a reciprocating push back every in stroke. She grunts every time I thrust my arm deeper inside her, cries every time my tongue lashes her clit.

I pound my fist into her with all my strength, pushing up to my elbow with every stroke and loving the roars of passion I get from her. Her legs kick at the air and her tail tries to thrash at the ground between my open legs. Her cunt grips my arm so very tightly in time with her rolling waves of pleasure, growing with her ecstatic cries until the wave breaks and I have to gasp in pain as she comes and my hand is crushed by her internal muscles in the throes of her powerful, volcanic orgasm.

I slowly, very slowly withdraw my arm. Clytemnestra whimpers happily with every little move I make and sighs loudly as it is finally expelled from her drooling, sated cunt. I lean down again and give her a big, slurping lick that makes her squeal again before I stand. My thighs are soaked in her juice, and my own, and I carefully lick the whole length of my forearm all over as I sit down by her lolling head.

"Where've you been all my life?"

That's a good question and I'm not at all sure how to answer it. I settle for a kiss, just a quick touch of my lips to hers.

I pull my skirt on again and lie back as Clytemnestra rolls right side up again and shakes her wet tail. I imagine she's not too comfortable on her back. She pokes the fire with a stick and then snaps it in two to throw it into the flames. Her strength is effortless, a little frightening. I flex the fingers of my right hand, still sore from her orgasm.

"You really don't want to talk about it?"

"About what?" I ask.

"Where you've been? It was rhetorical, but the way you reacted... Whatever you're running away from..."

"I'm not running from anything. I shouldn't have said that. It's... No, I don't really want to talk about it."

"I said you didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to."

"Thanks," I reach out and she takes my hand in hers for a moment. That feels good. Her hand is big and strong, calloused but not rough.

We both lie there for a long time after she lets go. I don't recognise any of the constellations overhead, and I'm a knowledgeable stargazer, I see no moon. The fire crackles cheerily nearby and strange night-sounds flicker in the forest over the ever present lapping of the lake. The night is only a little cooler than the day was and I'd be quite comfortable without the fire. I smell its pleasant smoke mixed with the scent of our sex and the perfumes of the forest. I don't recall a time I've ever felt so connected to the world around me, so in tune with the simple activity of living.

"You're right, Clytemnestra, the world really is a wonder, and the people in it."

"Ah, so I am."