Instinctively, I tried to scramble away, but a large hand gripped me by the neck and held me in place. I felt the broad, firm crown of his cock press against my slippery entrance and then the delicious friction of having my cunt stretched to its limit as he forced the head through my tight hole.
I gasped with both horror and excitement, terrified by the prospect of mating with a creature that, at times, seemed little different from an animal. Even sopping wet, it hurt a little bit owing to the sheer size of its member, though I knew it would have been worse if the yeti hadn’t prepared me with its finger. The beast’s cock was enormous, larger than anything I’d ever had before — easily the size of a cucumber — and I was more than a little afraid that he was going to rip me in two. He had to struggle a bit, grunting and huffing as he pulled his cock back and then pushed it forward with small, forceful thrusts. Working this way, he managed to ease it in inch by inch until, finally, his thick, rock-hard shaft was pressing against my cervix. During this process there was pressure and friction, but once he was lodged firmly inside me, plumbing me to the very depths, my discomfort was quickly replaced by a delicious feeling of fullness. I felt like a bitch in heat, aching to be dominated and given a vigorous humping.
The yeti’s strong fingers tightened around my hips, pinching my pelvis as he positioned himself for his first thrust. His cock was throbbing inside of me, beating in time with his pulse, and I felt my own heart racing wildly, more excited than I’d ever been in my life.
The yeti started slow, easing his cock back until only the round head remained inside of me, and then slowly easing it back in. My cunt was so full I felt like I was going to burst but the sensation was incredible. I knew that the yeti could have easily ripped me apart with its thrusting if it hadn’t proceeded with care, and this soft, gentle approach only reaffirmed my conviction that the man-beast inside of me was an intelligent creature capable of genuine compassion and sensitivity.
As the yeti fucked me, it began to pick up its pace. Its furry hips smacked softly against my buttocks as the tip of its magnificent cock explored my depths. I felt another orgasm building, this one larger than the last, and I realized with some chagrin that this was the best sex that I’d ever had. I found something incredibly arousing about being taken by this huge, fearsome beast. It had a raw power and intensity that had always been lacking in my human lovers.
The yeti’s strokes became harder and faster, pounding me hard enough to make my limbs shake and shudder. It was grunting and huffing now, making guttural noises that seemed to rise from deep in its chest. Its broad hands roamed over my back, hips, and buttocks as it thrust, trying to feel every inch of my body.
After several minutes of hard thrusting, the snowman buried himself as deeply as he could and abruptly went rigid. A loud, deep groan — almost a roar — escaped from its throat and its cock hardened like steel and began to violently throb. I could feel its thick shaft pulsating vigorously as bursts of hot, creamy yeti semen began flooding my womb.
I moaned, carried away by waves of primal ecstasy. My vaginal muscles clenched with sweet, agonizing tenderness around the beast-man’s cock, feeling it pulsate as rapid explosions of pleasure swept through me. My arms and legs trembled, barely able to support my own weight as I struggled to keep from collapsing into a hot wet mess on the cavern floor.
And still the yeti’s cum continued to flow. I could feel it seeping out around its cock, dripping down over my vulva and running down my thighs.
Filled to bursting with the yeti’s sperm, I was seized by a sudden irrational fear of becoming pregnant. I’d been single for almost a year now and I hadn’t been on the pill for several months. I knew that Neanderthals had interbred with our distant ancestors; was it possible that I would give birth to a yeti child? Were humans and yetis close enough, as related subspecies, for our sexual congress to bear fruit? It was not an idle fear, I realized, but a real possibility.
The yeti made several loud grunts as the throbbing subsided and then gently pulled out, unleashing a torrent of thick, milky seed on the stone floor between my knees. I turned in time to see its long, thick pink cock gleaming wetly in the firelight.
Not knowing what else to do, I laid down on the hide I’d been planning to use to make boots and curled into a ball. The yeti, in a surprising display of sensitivity, curled up beside me and pulled the fur I’d been using as a cloak over his shoulder and draped it over top of me. Wrapped in his arms, nestled in this thick, soft fur, beneath the blanket, feeling the warmth of his body on my back, I fell asleep.
When I woke, the yeti was gone. The fire had burned down to glowing red embers, but I wasn’t cold because I’d been buried under four or five furs.
I made my way out of my little cocoon, pulling one of the blankets over my shoulders. I took some dried branches from the wood pile and placed a few on the fire. When I had the fire going again, I made my way down the narrow hall to the lavatory.
I was beginning to freak out about the possibility of becoming pregnant. I spent a few minutes cleaning myself out with my hands and cold water and then urinated into the stream.
I knew it was pointless. If I was going to get pregnant, it had already happened.
That was the best sex you’ve ever had, Joanna.
I ran my hand through my hair and cringed at how greasy it felt. My teeth were in need of a scrubbing as well. I rinsed my mouth out with water and used water from the stream to scrub my scalp.
Feeling mildly cleaner but much chilled, I went back to the fire cave and unburied the hide I’d been planning on using to make boots. The charcoal lines had been all but erased, and the jagged cuts I’d made with the stone looked pathetic. I still wanted the boots to protect my feet against the chill, and against cutting my feet on the stone floor, but I no longer felt the anxious eagerness to flee the cave I had felt before. At the moment, I was more concerned about the rumbling in my belly than how I was going to get home.
I curled up in my cloak by the fire, dangling my feet into the pit, and tried not to think about the yeti.
How long had it been? Two days? Had they even gathered the search party yet? Had they already passed by our cave? These questions, which should have consumed all of my thoughts, felt rather academic, as if I were reading about my own disappearance in a newspaper. Of course I was concerned about the effect that my disappearance would have on my family — especially my brother Bill, who was no doubt looking for me this very moment — and about the fate of my colleagues, but my mind continued to gravitate irresistibly to my immediate situation, remembering the sadness of the yeti’s face as he showed me the grave of his lost love, the warmth of his body as he curled up beside me, the intensity of his lust as he thrust inside of me...
There was something so simple, so real about our budding relationship that a part of me resisted the idea of losing it, of sacrificing something so tender and rare by making too rapid a return to the ‘real world’.
I’ll just stay a few more days, I said to myself. I’ll give myself some time to prepare, to make some warm clothing and assemble some supplies. Maybe the yeti will even show me how to get out. He must have an exit somewhere nearby that he uses when he hunts and gathers wood for the fire.
I was so distracted by this train of thought that I didn’t notice that the yeti had returned until he was standing beside me. He’d captured another hare and immediately set about skinning it.
I watched him as he worked, once again astounded by how human his movements were. He never fumbled or hesitated, but completed each stage of preparation with precision and skill. I wondered how he managed to catch so much wild game. Watching him work, I began to suspect that my original impression that he’d hunted them down like a wolf or a lion was wrong. I was beginning to think that he was fully capable of setting snares, which would place his intelligence and sophistication at the level of a stone age man.
The yeti saw me watching him as he mounted the carcass on the spit and made a sort of grunting s
nort while flashing his teeth. It bore the uncanny resemblance to an amused smile.
“What?” I said instinctively, momentarily forgetting that he couldn’t speak.
The yeti shook his head in a way that almost suggested pity and adjusted the spit over the fire. When he was satisfied, he moved to stand beside me.
Without realizing it, I’d sat in the yeti’s usual spot and I thought he was simply going to push me out of his way. Much to my surprise he sat down beside me and wrapped one of his long, muscular arms around my shoulder. Seized by some kind of primitive instinct, I nestled into him, leaning my head on his massive, furry chest. The yeti sniffed at my hair and then, in an act that completely transformed how I perceived him, kissed me on the forehead.
It was so incredibly tender and human that I felt a great upwelling of emotion. I suddenly felt all his loneliness, the keenness of his isolation living here alone in the cave, and how happy it must have made him to have me here to share it with him. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, not only out of sadness for his lonely existence, but for the loneliness of my own life. I’d been so busy chasing my own dreams that I’d never really made any room in my life for anyone else. Here, now, trapped in this cave with this extraordinary creature — this extraordinary man — I couldn’t help but feel the keenness of my own isolation. This creature — man or beast, it didn’t matter — was here with me now, sharing his home and his food and his bed, sharing even his longing and his sorrow and ... dammit ... if I was going to be honest with myself ... it felt pretty damn good.
I snuggled in closer and he held me tighter and soon I began to feel something that I hardly dared to acknowledge: a stirring in my loins.
Almost magnetically, my eyes were drawn down to his lap. I pretended it was nothing more than curiosity at first, a sort of academic interest in the creature’s biology, but I found the flickering shadows caused by the dance of the flames to be frustratingly teasing. I wanted to see what it looked like, to feel its weight and texture in the palm of my hand.
Guided by a million years of instinct, I slowly ran my hand down his chest, thrilling at the softness of the silver white fur between my fingers. As my hand approached his belly, I saw movement down below and a shape began to take form. From the thick long hair of his loins the pink tip of his member emerged.
Greedily, I reached for it, cautiously closing my fingers around its girth. It was surprisingly warm and immediately hardened and swelled in my grasp. The velvet soft skin moved freely over the rigid tissue beneath as I slowly pulled back the foreskin to expose the crown. It was remarkably human, if a little larger and thicker than anything I’d ever seen before, and I found the sight of it incredibly arousing. A clear bead of precum sat like a jewel on the tip and — not daring to give myself time to think about what I was doing — I bent my head down and captured it on the tip of my tongue.
The bittersweet, salty taste inflamed my lust like an aphrodisiac and I found my lips parting to take him into my mouth. His cockhead pressed down on my tongue and up against the roof of my mouth as I eagerly sucked him and the yeti breathed out a deep sigh of contentment and began to gently stroke my hair.
I sucked the yeti’s cock with an almost delirious enthusiasm, consumed by an uncharacteristically intense lust. His skin has a surprisingly mild, even pleasant taste, like soft leather, and his musk, which I had feared at first because of its pungency, only seemed to arouse me more.
Feeling bolder, I massaged his shaft as I sucked, delighting in the thickness and firmness of his member. It was as large as I could have desired — too large, if anything — and felt like a perfect fit for both my hand and my mouth. I ran my hand down further until I found his furry sack and gently squeezed that as well, equally pleased with its size and shape.
The yeti was moaning softly now, its rigid member throbbing slightly between my lips. I could have induced him to mount me then — and lord knows I wanted him to — but I was equally inspired to please him and to become familiar with the taste of his seed.
I bobbed my head faster, gripping him firmly with my lips as I rapidly stroked his shaft with my fingers. He began to pant and a moment later his cockhead was pulsating inside my mouth. Hot, thick streams of semen burst into my mouth, filling it as quickly as I could swallow. It coated my tongue and plastered itself on the roof of my mouth, filling my senses with its acrid, salty, bittersweet flavor. I practically choked on the volume, and much of it escaped through my lips to slick the length of his shaft and run through my fingers, but I managed to get most of it down. When the flow finally ceased, I bathed his cock with my tongue and licked the sticky mess from my fingers.
I felt ashamed of my lust and perversity, but also pleased with my boldness and my ability to bring my companion pleasure, and relaxed into his arms somewhat smugly. We cuddled for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence, and then the yeti got up to adjust the spit so that the hare would be evenly cooked.
All of a sudden, my old life was beginning to feel very far away indeed.
After dinner, I decided to try and communicate with the yeti.
He was using a stick like a poker to break up some of the thicker branches and arrange the firewood to improve air circulation. I’d seen my father do this hundreds of times as a child and the similarity of the movements was uncanny.
Wrapping myself in my cloak, I crawled over to the yeti and lightly touched him on the shoulder. He grunted and continued to poke the fire.
I tapped him again and this time he turned and regarded me with curiosity.
I tapped my chest with my finger and said: “My name is Joanna.”
As I spoke, the yeti’s attention focused on my mouth. He seemed to be watching my lips, but made no other response.
“Joanna,” I repeated, tapping my chest once again for emphasis.
The yeti grunted and turned back to stoking the fire.
I grabbed his arm — trembling somewhat when I felt the sheer size and strength of his bicep — and drew his attention back to me.
“Joanna,” I repeated, a little more firmly. I pointed once again at my chest.
A strange expression crossed the yeti’s face and he reached out to me. For a breathless moment, I believed that he’d understood me, but his great hand simply slipped between the folds of my cloak and planted itself firmly on my breast. The yeti gave it a good squeeze and smiled.
I rolled my eyes and gently pushed his hand aside. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Joanna,” I said, repeating my name once again and once again tapping my chest.
Once again, the yeti reached for my breast, but this time I caught his hand. I took him by the wrist and placed it on his own chest.
“My name is Joanna. What’s your name?” I said, tapping his hand against his chest.
The yeti pulled his hand free, shaking his head as if I were crazy. He thought I wanted him to touch his own breast.
This is hopeless, I muttered to myself, sitting back down. I rested my chin on my hand and stared into the fire.
When the fire was burning to the yeti’s satisfaction, he sat down beside me. He gestured toward the flames and made a noise that sounded a bit like a hiss. I repeated the sound as best I could and pointed to the fire. The yeti nodded and smiled and made a strange sort of whoop which I took to be delight. I hissed again and once again pointed to the fire and the yeti responded with another whoop of excitement.
I smiled, thrilled to have made some sort of verbal communication with the man-beast. Surely it was only a matter of time before we could begin to have real, albeit simple, conversations.
The yeti lunged at me, catching me completely off-guard, and planted his lips on my face. Compelled by Lord only knows what impulse, I kissed him back.
I felt a rush of desire as the yeti forced me down on my back. My cloak fell open and suddenly I found myself pinned under his massive weight. The heat of his body and the softness of his fur made me tingle from head to toe. His mouth was on my neck, his long wet tongue stro
king me from my collar to a spot just behind the ear. I felt something graze against my thigh, leaving behind a wet trail, and I knew that I was only seconds away from being penetrated by his monstrous cock.
My physical response was instantaneous. My body flushed with heat and moisture rapidly accumulated in my loins. I raised my legs, wrapping them around the beast-man’s waist, and, spreading my fingers over his broad, powerful shoulders, I pulled him down.
The yeti’s cock found my hole, smoothly parting my folds. The sudden intrusion of his thick shaft made me gasp and then groan as he thrust it in. His hips gyrated furiously, pumping his cock into my vagina with relentless, irresistible enthusiasm. He was like a rutting animal, wild and uninhibited. Waves of pleasure washed over me, making me drunk with desire.
“Yes!” I moaned. “Oh God, you’re an animal! Yes! Yes!”
My words spurred him on, inspiring a frenzy of fucking that drove me up over the edge into orgasm in a matter of seconds. I felt like I was melting into the floor of the cave, turning into a wet puddle of pure pleasure. My cries and moans rebounded off the walls of the cave and were soon accompanied by the loud grunting groans and barks of my lover. I could feel his powerful cock throbbing inside of me, ready to burst at any instant, and it made me cling even tighter. A second orgasm, even stronger, followed quickly on the throes of my first, and I felt my vaginal muscles clenching his shaft with exquisite, intoxicating delight. The yeti’s cock began to violently pulsate and pump and shockingly strong blasts of hot, virile cum began flooding my vagina, forcing its way into my fertile womb. Every burst of semen made the yeti groan and shudder, and soon his copious cream was squirting back out through my hole and soaking into the fur of the cloak.
The yeti trembled, quietly snorting as his balls pumped the last of his seed into my hungry pussy. I too began to relax, savoring the sweet afterglow of the most passionate, pleasurable lovemaking I’d ever experienced.
And then I heard someone shout.
Tamed by the Yeti Page 4
