My Travels with Clytemnestra Ch. 06

Face-deep in her juicy snatch I know I've read my woman right. Artless, enthusiastic cuntlicking of a kind I'm more than happy to provide. My hands find her stiff, aroused nipples and I'm rewarded with a happy moan. I take a chance and directly suck on her long, stiff clit making her shiver all over.

Her flavour is mild and slightly bitter and feminine and erotic beyond thought. I swallow more of her juices with every lick and more still coats my face, drips from my chin, else runs down my neck or splashes on my chest. All I taste is her nectar, all I hear are her moans of lust, all I feel is the heat of her body and the touch of her tail on my back. My fingers massage her hard nipples, my tongue probes every part of her slick slit. In and out, down and up, right and left, tasting everywhere, drawing patterns of pleasure in her temple of love.

Aristomache's moans are growing louder. Louder and more rapid, the pulsing of her cunt is faster too and her body jerks now and again as pleasure takes over from control. I feel a hoof stamping and pawing at the ground, Her gasps become more and more high-pitched, surprisingly so for a woman her size, and at the apex of her joy she comes, quaking all over and with a long, drawn-out wail of delight. I eagerly lick up the love that flows freely from her.

Come morning I'm really disinclined to move. Cuddled up naked in my blanket I try to resist Clytemnestra's shaking my body. The four of us made love late into the night. Mmm – I licked three different women's cunts last night, three different centaur's cunts! One after the other. There's a happy memory to replay in the morning.

Clytemnestra gives me one last shake and then whips my blanket away, pulling me fully out of my pleasant memory, "Get up, lazybones! And stop masturbating!"

"I wasn't!" which is to say I was just about to when she pulled my blanket off, but she didn't give me time.

Aristomache laughs at my indigence and I huffily get up and wonder down to the river to splash a little water around before getting dressed.

"You sleep a long time, don't you?" Eupraxia asks.

"So I've been told."

"We've a long way to go. Do you always sleep all night long?"

"I'm afraid so."

I make some tea and natter with Eupraxia a little longer. I can see she's wondering how much I'll slow the journey down.

"If you need to sleep, you need to sleep and that's an end to it. We should start moving soon," Aristomache adds.

"Alright. I would like to examine those stones a little more though. Your arrival last night interrupted things before I could get a good feel of things."

"She said there's magic in them," Clytemnestra explains, "She's a sorceress you know."

I'm uncomfortably aware of both other centaurs looking suddenly at me.

"I!" Aristomache sputters, "You mean I... Pissed on a sorceress!"

"Yes," I confirm, dully, "I don't imagine there are lots of people who can say that... Probably more than you might think though."

I let her process that thought. Clytemnestra is thoroughly enjoying things. I leave them to it and walk back with my tea to the circle a little ways away.

There's that feeling again. Magic. A great swell of magic all around me. Waiting. Limitless potential for change, waiting for something to trigger it. I wonder between the stones, laying my hand now and again on one or another, feeling the magic within.

Now I've reached the innermost circle. I hear movement behind and see all three centaurs are following me, but not too close, watching me. Each has some degree of awe, or fear or wonder on her face, even Clytemnestra. All pause as I turn and look at them.

I go on to the centre of the circle, to the stone curule. It's as high as my waist, rectangular and very broad. I can feel the magic absolutely billowing from it before I even lay a hand to the stone. My skin thrums with the trapped, waiting power when I touch it.

My eyes close and I bring the magic of this place into focus within my mind. I can see it, clear and obvious. Branching lines of logic, commands, conditions, variables and subroutines. A vast spell-programme still functioning, and waiting.

But not for me... The spell is too big, to complex for me to decode, not if I had a year to do it, but it's obvious even now that, whatever the circle is waiting for, it's not me. If it were, it would already be doing... Whatever it is that it does.

"It's quite safe," I smile gently at the centaurs, who are standing a dozen paces away, glancing between one another.

They approach a little closer and I go to them, taking Clytemnestra's hand in mine.

"I've seen what I wanted to see."

The mountains, until now scenic and attractive suddenly take on a considerably more imposing aspect in my mind, now that we are walking toward them. Our path drives straight toward the gap between two peaks, the much anticipated pass, but clearly it will still involve ascending some thousands of feet – a fact attested to by the fact that even before the day is out we are walking up a noticeable incline.

The next day things become even more arduous. By mid morning our path is a long series of looping switchbacks cut into the living stone by some unknown hand. It's just wide enough that two centaurs may walk side by side, provided one of them is not too afraid of heights. We walk in single file.

The stream which had babbled calmly down by the stone circle now cascades excitedly through a series of short falls and cataracts which pool in wide shallow basins before leaping again down to the next. According to Aristomache, her mother made the climb in two days. With me slowing everything down five seems the least we will manage.

So the days go by. At once point our road makes a more extravagant loop than most, swinging wide out at the valley's edge and providing us a dizzying view straight down to the plains below through thousands of feet of empty air. Clytemnestra points into the distance, claiming to see the forest where we first met. Perhaps she can but I can't.

That night is the first we notice a distinct chill in the air. In fact, it's the first time since arriving in this world that I've felt anything approaching cold. Aristomache and Eupraxia both came prepared. They each have a large, thick wool and fur cloak cut and formed to protect both parts of their bodies.

Clytemnestra and I have no such garments but it's a very simple matter now for me to protect us both from changing temperature. When Eupraxia asks I provide the same protection for her and her wife. I feel really rather magical right now and their impressed looks are very gratifying.

Having climbed for six days our road is now almost level now we are in the much advertised pass. In my mind I had pictured snow and ice, perhaps some manner of narrow rock shelf clinging to the side of a mountain, Certainly the risks of avalanche and blizzard. All the things that 'mountain pass' naturally conjures to my mind.

Of course, the actual pass proves to be no such thing. It is a very attractive alpine meadow. Cold, yes, but certainly not snowbound. Lush grass and red and blue wildflowers grow between the snowy peaks to our left and right. Here and there mighty house-sized boulders sit brooding. Clytemnestra says they are remnants of rock-slides, though things seem very calm now.

At the far end, where the pass once again becomes a much narrower way descending the mountains I spy what initially seems to be a large group of such stones. Once we are nearer though it's obvious what they are, or, were. Statues, three of them. Three stone centaurs, now tumbled to rubble and ruin. Each one must have been twenty feet tall at the withers when they stood.

We pause to examine them. Aristomache says her mother never mentioned these statues, though I suppose she could not have recounted every detail of the journey. Up close it's obvious, despite decades, maybe centuries of weathering, the statues were hugely defaced at some point. The faces of all three have been smashed to dust by picks or hammers and all of their limbs and the swords and lances they once carried are broken apart too thoroughly to be the result of simple time.

It's a strange mood amongst us as we make camp among the rubble that night. Someone once went to a huge amount of hardship to place these statues in this high place, and someone else put a lot of effort into smashing them to pieces for some reason. Aristomache cannot comment on either event, pointing out that both must have been a long, long time before her mother travelled this way. Shame. I'd have liked to see them as they must have been.

Very soon after leaving the pass the path opens out again showing us most of our route down and a huge vista of the country spread out before us. Unmissable, a huge shard of silver water. I know it is no sea, for we are going inland, but this is a truly cyclopean lake, almost an inland sea. Just as obvious, the wide, dark line cutting across the water. Zoa, city on the bridge.

Even knowing that it is large enough to hold a city I am staggered by the scale of the thing. Even from so far away it looks big. It must be twenty miles long and at least two wide, maybe more. The shores of the lake show obvious geometric patterns of farming and irrigation and long, straight roads cut through the countryside, meeting inevitably at the bridge itself.

In between us and the city though... That is another matter. Forest is not the word I'd use, the expanse of green stretching for miles beyond the mountains is very definitely jungle. I point this out to my travelling companions.

Eupraxia nods solemnly, "Why do you think Aristomache's mother is so rare? Why do so few people visit Zoa, or come from there?"

"So we have to go through there?"

"Yes," Aristomache points out a winding green snake of river visible flowing through the jungle and thence on to the lake, "That is our way. We must reach the river and build a raft, the current will carry us the rest of the way."

The river, so far as I can tell, flows nowhere near where we are, or where our path down the mountain seems to be carrying us. Nevertheless, that is our path and we follow it.

The temperature grows as we descend over the next couple of days. So much so in fact that I have no desire to lift my thermostasis spell, which is now keeping us cool, rather than warm. Within two days we are in the jungle, though still a good way up the mountain. It only gets hotter as we travel deeper and down.

The centaurs have deep misgivings about our surroundings. They feel claustrophobic and are not in high spirits as the trees close about us.

Ah, but I am... This place is a very Eden. I feel healed, nurtured by every minute I spend here. The air is perfumed by wild flowers and rich, healthy soil and all good things which grow. Gentle currents of air cool the skin else carry colourful exotic birds and shimmering butterflies as broad as my hand. From time to time we come across some sight that is almost heart-stopping in its singular splendour.

Here, a perfect, golden beam of sunlight lances down from the canopy, illuminating a hundred million grains of pollen dancing within it. There a mighty tree, thick as a castle's tower has fallen and now has new young trees growing from it's bulk.

We make camp on the third night in a small clearing by the edge of a wide, circular plunge-pool. A tall waterfall leaps down into it from somewhere above the canopy and splashes excitedly in rainbow sprays of crystal clear water.

It's quite wonderfully beautiful, backed by the deep green jungle scattered with vibrant bright flowers. The roar of water and the cheerful birdsong and other calls of the wildlife beyond join together almost musically.

Eupraxia almost instantly scampers into the water and I cannot resist tearing off my clothes and following her splashily out into the cool, clear water. I feel the fine white sand squish beneath my feet, between my toes and I shiver as the cool, crisp water massages my naked skin. I wade out to the deepest part of the pool where the water comes up to my hips and I am in almost standing beneath the falls.

Spray is thrown up all around us where the fall knifes deep into our wonderful pool. It mists my body and her's and we're surrounded by rainbows and the sound of churning, splashing, laughing water.

Eupraxia gasps as she walks right through the falling water, emerging utterly wet, her long white hair clinging most attractively to her sexy body. About the same time, Clytemnestra and then Aristomache join us and we all dance through the falls many times.

To start with it is a frightening, even panicking sensation as all that water pours down and my body feels like I am drowning. Then suddenly I'm back in the clear air, sputtering for breath and wiping drips from my eyes.

Thereafter it's much more fun until, after a little while, just as I have emerged from the falls again, strong hands suddenly seize me about the shoulders and drag me back under to be kissed with great force and then just as strongly ejected back from whence I had been dragged.

Of course, I fall over and by the time I erupt back out of the water, Clytemnestra is right there, laughing and winking at me.

"Not fair!"

"Oh lady! If it were fair it wouldn't be such fun!"

"Get her!" With that cry I charge forward, kicking great waves of water before me and uselessly laying my shoulder to Clytemnestra's immovable chest as though I could push her beneath the falls.

With a surprised yelp she suddenly is forced back as Aristomache lends me aid and even Clytemnestra cannot resist the larger centaur. We push her all the way back through the falls and out the other side.

"Quarter! Quarter! I submit," she laughs, and Aristomache lets her go.

Aristomache lets her go just so she can put a stinging smack on Clytemnestra's glossy wet hindquarters.

"Ow! Why... Ow!" Aristomache does it again, "So that's how it is?"

Clytemnestra rears around and slaps Aristomache's bum in turn and both of them are cantering about one another in circles, casting giant waves that quite knock me from my feet and slapping one another's rumps for all their worth. All I can do is hang on to Eupraxia for support against the waves and watch, and listen to the sharp wet slaps.

Eventually their spanking fight wears itself out and Eupraxia tells them to 'kiss and make up' which they do with no little enthusiasm. It's an attractive sight to say the least, one to stir desire in a woman. In fact I'm reminded of a desire I've had for a while and, albeit with a little backwards glance, leave them to it for a moment to go and fetch my sea sponge and my now rather reduced cherry scented soap.

When their lips have parted, I take my cue, "There's something I've wanted to do to you for a long time, now," I say, taking Clytemnestra by the hand and leading her into the deepest part of the pool.

"Oh? And what might that be, lady?"

"I want," I turn around to face her, "To give you," I raise the soap menacingly, "A bath!"

She gives me a saucy smile, spreads her arms wide and bids me do just that.

Oh, but she is the most magnificent woman! Sometimes, too often, I find I have become... Accustomed to her, I take her for granted, lose my sense of wonder at her sheer presence. And then, at times like this it hits me afresh.

She kneels down in the water, until I can reach up and scrub the pink soap against her chest. Rub it back and forth leaving smears of white suds against her rich brown skin. Little rivulets of soap run down between her firm round breasts. I scrub it across the crinkly, darker skin of her areolae and up and across and down. All over her flat tummy, I can feel the gentle shapes of ribs and hard, toned muscle under my hands, her skin soapy and slippy and wet.

Down I go until near the water's surface her black, equine coat begins, sparse at first and then thicker and darker and more glossy . All over her sides and up to the thick, dark hair under her arms which I turn white and spiky with soap. I lean around, resting my hip against her flank to scrub the soap all over her back. I have to stretch and worm my way up her side as I strive to reach her head, to wash her hair until now I am all but sitting on her withers.

With a heave and a great sluicing of water Clytemnestra rises to her hooves and I am fully sitting on her back. I squeal in surprise, hanging on to her about the shoulders and now sitting side-saddle, quivering for balance.

"Go on," she says.

So I do. I soap all over her back and then reach up to soap her short, scruffy black hair. Simply for balance my leg comes across and I am straddling her withers. Now I pass her the soap to hold and start to scrub at her body with my sponge.

It's quite by accident of course, I'd certainly not planned it, but as a purely natural reaction to my scrubbing away, the rest of my body moves too. Back and forth, my hips rocking, wonderful, pleasurable sensations start to build at my centre. Within very little time my focus has shifted entirely, the sponge floats off on the water's surface where I dropped it, by hands roam over Clytemnestra's slick, soapy body and my hips roll, driving my lustful cunt against her withers.

My arms embrace Clytemnestra, my hands cupping her exquisite breasts, else touching, tugging, teasing at her stiff, aroused nipples. Her hands reach back to me, taking me about the waist, guiding my rocking hips. My thighs clamp harder to her wet flanks, striving to magnify the sensations flowing into my overheated womanhood.

Back and forth, back and forth, again and again, rolling my hips, my spine undulating like a snake, tribbing myself against her. Rubbing my spread sex against this spectacular woman.

My hands slide all over her body, slipping across her skin without friction, always returning though to her firm, feminine orbs.

"Clytemnestra. Clytemnestra. Clytemnestra."

I'm close. Getting closer. Every roll of my hips drives me on a little more, rubbing my most sensitive spot against her, feeding the growing heat between my legs. My head is swimming in the sensation, my cunt wet with desire against her coat.

My legs are spread so wide, thighs hard against her hard flesh, I'm so open. I cling hard about her. Her breasts firm and slippery under my hands. My own hard against her soapy back. Can she feel? My nipples are so hard, can she feel them against her back? The thought excites me more.

A wild, bucking, rocking ride carries me higher toward he peak of sexual fulfilment. Every part of my body strives to be against her, I hold her so tight, I fuck myself against her so hard and fast. The muscles in my thighs burning with the effort. I can do nothing but sob out incoherent gasps of joy until my legs clamp more tightly still around her and I come, crying out and holding her in a desperate, passionate orgasm that leaves me panting for breath, clinging still, weakly, to her back.

"I might've guessed that's what you had in mind, lady. Wash me, indeed?"

"What? No! No... I just... got distracted."

It's true, too. Ah, but how could I not? I realise that even now, I'm starting to tribb myself against her again and it takes a conscious effort to stop.

I slide gingerly down from her back and guide her down into the water again where I can, having collected my sponge, start to wash the suds from her skin. Not that I am remotely done, now.

We move into shallower water where it is my very great pleasure to start working the soap into her equine coat. All along her flank I scrub the soap accompanied by Aristomache's moans of pleasure. Eupraxia is kneeling behind her wife and to judge, most skilfully eating that delicious quim. I don't know which of them I envy more.

Time enough for that later. I continue to apply soap in long, creamy swathes to Clytemnestra's wet black coat, circling around behind her, drawing the soap through her long tail and paying special care to her sex, which is wet not just with water.