Caveman Alien’s Trick

by Calista Skye

  And I’m their Show White.

  Well, maybe a really dirty kind of snow.

  - - -

  The next morning the soreness has become a slight itch, nothing more. I go briefly outside, clean up very thoroughly, then saunter back inside where Rax’tan is sitting in the hall, carving something from wood.

  Without a word I take his hand and lead him back upstairs, strip naked in front of him, and lie back on the furs with my thighs just slightly spread.

  “Holy Ancestors,” Rax’tar exclaims, and his bulge twitches so much it throws a considerable shadow in the daylight in here.

  Then his pants join my dress on the floor and he kneels down.

  “Just your cock,” I whisper. “I’m ready for it.” I made sure of that. Before I came down I spent a little while reliving the events from Love Beach, and that was enough to make me absolutely sopping. Hey, sometimes a girl just wants to get fucked. I have a lot of time to make up for.

  Rax’tar gets it, places himself with his cock at my entrance, and then pushes in, slowly. There’s still a little bit of a sting as he passes inside, but then he’s inside and my pussy suddenly remembers how this felt.

  Now that he knows I’m wet and slick all the way inside, Rax’tar fucks me faster than yesterday, experimenting with angles and rhythm.

  He fills me up with every stroke, and still his cock with all its protrusions and things that seemed designed specifically for me excites every little spot inside me. And now that I know what to expect, I can relax into it and just let him do his thing.

  I release any tension I may have had, submitting to his skill and his cock in a way that feels so right. I lose track of whether his cock is going in or out – it all just blends together into a constantly growing pool of heat collecting at my core, wave after wave of lust and delight.

  I’m ready, and I hold my breath, just expecting that second cock of his to do his thing.

  Still, it takes me by surprise when it touches my clit, like a match lighting the fuze of a stick of dynamite.

  I throw my head back and scream again as my whole body convulses in a groundswell of a climax, shaking me like yesterday, except better because I’m relaxing more now, more able to enjoy it.

  Rax’tar comes in me again, just like yesterday, but now he roars in triumph. I guess he’s enjoying it more today, too.

  He rolls over, and I lie on top of him.

  “You are crazy,” I state into his chest, still breathing hard from it all.

  “That’s what they say,” he agrees with satisfaction in his voice. “Crazy to leave the tribe. Crazy to go into the water with the strange trees. Crazy to go away and come back with a female alien. But all the craziness appears to usually work out in the end.”

  I inhale his scent and relax, safe in his arms. “Why did you leave the tribe?”

  It takes him a while to answer. “Some things happened. I could not continue living there.”

  “Did they cast you out? It’s okay, I don’t mind. Some of the men in my tribe are outcasts.”

  “They didn’t. The chief was being very good about it. Very understanding.”

  “So what happened?”

  He stirs under me. “We should get started with the new raft you want to build. I think I know where we can get better logs.”

  I’m not going to press the point. Not yet.

  We get up and make our way down to the hall in the hollowed-out tree. We eat a quick breakfast of fruit juice and meat and herbs, and then we go down to the raft again, passing some of the other guys and greeting them cheerfully.

  I glance back at the hollow tree. I can just about see the windows on “my” floor. And the island isn’t that big. All the guys definitely heard everything that happened up there just now.

  They don’t seem to mind too much. Still, I should maybe try to keep it down a little. Except on the beach. There I won’t keep it down at all.

  “We can’t use the raft all day,” Rax’tar says when he pushes it out from the beach. “The others need it for hunting and gathering fruit. Tret’zor and Arit’zan are away with the other one.”

  I take my place on the wobbly collection of logs, making sure to not step between two of them and so plunge my foot into the water. “You guys definitely need a new one.”

  Rax’tar has brought a huge axe that he places next to me on the raft, and then he paddles us in the opposite direction from where Love Beach is.

  I take the opportunity to fill out the map a little. We pass several little islands in this direction, too, and I start to realize just how easy it would be to get lost here on Seatree Ocean. Just a hundred yards away from The Island, there’s no sign of it, even if I know exactly where it’s supposed to be. The seatrees block the view in every direction.

  The only sound is the soft splashes of Rax’tar’s oar and the hardly noticeable rustle of the wind in the tops of the seatrees. The jungle was like a packed club compared to this.

  “Do we have to be quiet here?”

  16

  - Rax’tar -

  “Make all the noise you want,” I reply. And of course, I immediately think of the wonderful noises Phoebe made just this morning, and it has the predictable effect of tightening the crotch of my pants.

  “I don’t need to make noise,” she says, busy with her map. “Just maybe say something now and then.”

  I navigate around a tree with a rounder crown than the others. Now I’ll pass to the right of the one that has one branch standing straight up, and then I should be able to see Wood Island. “What is it that you want to say?”

  “Nothing special. Just want to know if we’re still in danger from Bigs.”

  “Ah. It is probably safe to assume that there are Bigs here. We have never seen any close to The Island.”

  “Is that why you guys decided to live here among the seatrees?”

  There’s Wood Island ahead, larger than The Island, but covered in ordinary trees. “Curt’on and I needed a place to stay. A home. But the jungle is a dangerous place. I wandered far and found the Gate. The strange waters were interesting to me. I cut a log and used it for floating on. But it was not stable and kept rolling, plunging me into the water. Then I thought maybe two logs might be better than one, more stable. And three might be better still. Finally, I had a small raft and could travel easier. I found The Island and went back to tell Curt’on, and then we settled here. Gir’ex joined us shortly after and carved the house in the tree.”

  Phoebe knocks on a log. “Is this the raft you built?”

  “That first one is long since gone. We built more after that. But we never used the trees here on Wood Island.”

  The raft hits the beach, and Phoebe jumps in then wades ashore with the rope in her hand like she’s done nothing other than sailing on rafts her whole life.

  I jump off as well then pull the raft up on the beach. “These trees always looked straighter than most of the other ones. We always thought we would use them for making a better raft, while not as big as the other one we have. And I think this might be the time. I know Curt’on has been planning it.”

  Phoebe takes in the dense forest. “Wood Island?” She scratches something onto her map with her twig. “Not a bad name. Very… accurate.”

  I walk up to a tree and knock on it. “These trees sound different from many of the others. Lighter and less dense.”

  Phoebe knocks, too. “Maybe they contain more air and float better. Could you cut one down to check?”

  I take my ax and do as she suggests. And when I toss the log into the water, it does seem to float quite a lot higher in the water than the old raft.

  “That looks really good!” Phoebe exclaims. “If we have ten of those, it will probably carry more than just two people. Actually… how thick do they grow?”

  We walk through the woods until we find the thickest of the trees in the middle of the island. It’s nowhere near as wide as our house tree on The Island, but I can’t quite embrace it with my arms, so i
t’s pretty thick.

  “Too big for a raft,” I judge.

  “Definitely,” Phoebe agrees. “But have you ever heard of a canoe?”

  I look away. “Kanu. Yes, of course I’ve heard of it. Many times. ”

  Phoebe tilts her head and looks up at me. “Rax’tar, what is a canoe?”

  “Well, it’s one of those things that have to do with… trees.”

  She puts a small hand flat on my chest and smiles. “You know, you don’t have to pretend. It’s okay if you don’t always know about all the alien things I talk about. But I shouldn’t keep putting you on the spot. A canoe is a small boat made from one big log.”

  “A bote,” I repeat. “I knew that.”

  “A boat is like a raft, except different. It will be much faster through the water than a raft. Maybe we can cut this tree and bring the trunk back to The Island? Oh, and maybe two of these normal-size trees and six of these small—”

  She goes quiet as I put my palm up.

  I just listen for a moment.

  Then I pounce on Phoebe and knock her to the ground, using my own body to shield her.

  She yelps in surprise, and in her eyes there’s both confusion and fear.

  There’s a sharp whoosh right over my head, followed by the furious screech of the irox that had tried to quietly dive down on us.

  I bounce back to my feet and draw the dagger. It’s not a perfect weapon to use against these flying fiends, but I’ve killed irox with it before. Now I’m much less happy about my chances. There’s not just me here – Phoebe will be an extremely tempting target for this Big.

  The irox flaps its leathery wings and turns, setting up for another dive right down onto us.

  “Stay close to the ground,” I urge Phoebe, tightness in my voice. “And close to that big tree.”

  But she’s already there, staying down and hugging the wide trunk. The irox will have serious trouble getting to her there. She’s mostly safe for now.

  I would be, too, if I joined her there. But irox often hunt in packs. The screeches from this one might attract its friends, and that would put us in a much worse position. As a rule it’s always better to kill an irox than to hide from it if it has already seen you.

  I stay out in the open with my hands on my hips, checking the sky for other dangers. But this young irox is alone. For now.

  It comes diving down again, talons stretched out in front of it. Yes, this is an inexperienced irox. Otherwise, it would know to dive head first until the very last moment.

  But the talons are lethal enough, and this way, the irox can go all the way down to the ground.

  It screeches again, trying to unsettle its prey. And it is a bad noise.

  I sidestep at the last moment, then dive forwards, twisting in the air and then ramming the dagger up and back, aiming for the predator’s mostly unprotected belly. The dagger sinks in, and I have to hold onto it with both hands to not have it torn out of my grip.

  The screech changes from certain triumph to sudden pain, and cold irox blood sprays over my arms.

  But this type of stab has a major drawback. Before I can get out of the way, something strokes across my back, almost like a caress.

  I duck while the irox flaps its wings and tries to gain height, dark blood still spraying out of it and its long, barbed tail curling up underneath it.

  The irox loses strength fast and can’t coordinate its wings. It crashes into a tree, snapping the slender trunk like a twig. It hits the ground, thrashing and screeching and kicking. But the life is running out of it, and this irox will never fly again.

  I crawl over to Phoebe and hold her trembling body while the irox dies and goes still.

  “That was terrible,” she says and clings to me. “I hate those things.”

  “It makes no sense to hate the jungle,” I state the old wisdom that every boy is told many times during his upbringing. “The jungle is what it is. And we must deal with it or die.”

  Phoebe looks at one of her hands and frowns at the blood. “Let me see your back.”

  I turn my torso, and she gasps behind me. “You’re bleeding badly!”

  I stroke a hand across my shoulders. It comes back dripping with blood.

  “The tail got me,” I explain lightly. “Always a risk when you stab one in the gut.”

  “Sit still,” Phoebe commands. “I know how to deal with this. I saw some bushes. Wait here.”

  She takes off in among the trees. I can’t help being impressed with her composure after an attack like this. Perhaps her softness is mostly on the outside.

  I test my wounds again, this time allowing myself the luxury of wincing, since Phoebe can’t see me. I’ve never had an irox tail whip me this deep. But the stripes are tough and prevented a serious injury.

  Phoebe comes back, checking the sky for the irox’s friends while she jogs closer. “This should help.” She shows me a fistful of leaves that I’ve never noticed particularly. Then she rips them into shreds and rolls them between her palms, hard, creating a greenish paste.

  She gets behind me. “This might sting a little. Don’t worry, that’s a good sign.”

  It does sting when she puts the paste onto my wounds, but I stay calm and don’t twitch.

  “An alien custom?” I ask.

  “One of our strange alien customs is to try to heal wounds before they get infected, yes.”

  Despite the stinging, I enjoy her soft touch on my skin. “As alien customs go, that might not be the worst one.”

  “My tribe is big on these things. Healing, I mean. We all teach each other how to do it. Just in case. We call it ‘first aid’.”

  “Furs ade,” I muse. “Kanu. Bote. Ocean. At this rate, I suppose we warriors might as well just start using your language and be done with it.”

  “Keep your warrior speech,” she says. “It’s much easier to learn than our English. Take whatever words you can use. Okay, that should do it. Hopefully, these claw marks won’t get infected. They’re not too deep. Your stripes are very tough.”

  I turn around and take her head between my hands, peering into her deep eyes. “Thank you. For an alien, you’re not really alien at all.”

  She gives me a shy smile and wipes her green hands on her dress. “I don’t think you’re that alien, either. Except when you defend us against irox.”

  “Is that alien to you?”

  “You move so fast! You were just a blur. And you killed that huge horror. No Earth man could do it.”

  A strange, childish pride spreads in my chest. “What do they do when attacked by irox?”

  “There aren’t any irox on my planet. Not anymore. Many years ago there were, but humans didn’t exist back then. Rax’tar?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why don’t you use a sword? If you did, you could stay further away from the irox and the tail might not hit you. I noticed there’s a large sword on the wall in your house.”

  I look away. “I don’t want to use a sword again.”

  “Does it have something to do with why you left your tribe? Just guessing.”

  How could she know? For a short moment I consider telling her all about it. “Perhaps. Who can tell? Now, let’s cut down this thing and bring it back home.”

  I move to get up, but Phoebe puts a hand on my knee. “Rax’tar. You can tell me.”

  Despite her alienness, I can see in her face that she’s being sincere.

  “Maybe later.” I take her hand off my knee and stand up. “We have to return the raft, the sooner the better.”

  It takes me quite some time to cut and prepare all the trees Phoebe wants, and then she helps me roll the logs into the water so we can tow them back to The Island. I’ve brought rope for that purpose, and we get back home before the others become irritated because they need the raft.

  I drag the log up on dry land, and Phoebe requests a knife. I go and get her a small one, and then she starts marking the log, cutting little lines in the bark to reveal the white wood beneath
.

  I stand back among the trees and just watch her.

  Curt’on comes up to me. “That’s a big log,” he observes. “It looks like the tree we had decided to carve a hollow vessel out of. The one on Wood Island.”

  “The very one,” I confirm. “And that kind of vessel is called a ‘boat’ or a ‘canoe’, apparently.”

  “I was going to do that,” Curt’on growls. “I made the tools for it and everything. I was just waiting for the winter season.”

  I put my arm around his shoulders. “I know, Curt’on. I know. But look how happy she is.”

  Warmth fills my heart when I see Phoebe measuring and marking the log with that small knife, which she still has to use both hands to use. She’s absorbed in her work.

  Curt’on is stiff under my arm. “I can certainly see that you are happy. Why am I not as happy as you?”

  I frown at him and point at Phoebe. Does he really not understand? “It’s… it’s because of her, of course! She makes me happy!”

  “I know. She makes you happy. Happier and more content than I’ve ever seen you. We all know. This morning there were strange sounds coming from her room. The sounds of Mating, perhaps?”

  “Yes,” I beam. “I Mated with Phoebe.”

  “And was it a good experience?”

  I take a deep breath at the thought of it, and my pants go tight again. “The best, Curt’on. The best.”

  “Just like the shaman said? A deep feeling of fulfilment and satisfaction and the purest joy any man can experience?”

  Phoebe walks around the log, and the dimples at the back of her knees make my own knees weak. “Just like that. Indeed.”

  “So why don’t the rest of us have one of those? A female?”

  The idea releases a landslide in my mind. Why can’t all of us have one? There are still unmarried alien females at Phoebe’s village. And apparently any guest can just help themselves to one. I feel a new excitement. Surely, Phoebe would love some company of her own kind. “Maybe one day, Curt’on. Maybe soon.”

  “Hmm. And meanwhile you will enjoy the Mating with Phoebe. While we must listen.”