Caveman Alien's Riddle - Calista Skye Page 0,45
the water, then run along the stream to the beach. As I thought, most of the tentacles don’t follow, and those that do are now feeling around blindly, curling around boulders and trees.
“It was a trap, after all,” Jennifer observes, her voice strained. “Look. The monster lives under the island.”
Indeed, the tentacles emerge from the swamp on all sides of the island, some of them still centered on the pool in the middle.
I consider running on, into the swamp, to get away. But I also suspect it would be futile — I think that monster has followed us from the shore, moving underneath us, well under the firm layer that floats on top of the muck.
The tentacles are getting closer, fumbling and testing the ground. One of them picks up a rock and throws it at us, forcing Jennifer to duck.
“It only comes after me,” she says, out of breath. “It ignores you.”
As if I hadn’t noticed. The tentacles carefully snake past me, aiming for her. That also makes it hard for me to fight it without hurting Jennifer.
I punch and pull and manage to rip one tentacle in half. It sprays green liquid and flails before it withdraws back into the swamp.
“There it comes,” Jennifer says and points.
It’s a huge bulb of brown flesh, pitted and scarred, rising up into the air from the other side of the island, supported by a hundred thin tentacles that sprout from its underside. With those long arms, it’s easily twice the diameter of the island.
Carried by its tentacles, the bulb that has to be the monster’s main body and head slowly makes its way to right above us, dripping mud and swamp water onto the ground.
Six crusty, muddy eyes on stalks come down and take us in. Especially me.
I try to scare it with that quick hand movement. “Boo!”
There’s no reaction, except the bulb lowers itself a fraction and tilts to the side. In the middle of it is a sharp beak, ringed with round suckers and shorter tentacles.
Higher up, the monster carries a curious wreath of green and red leaves around its top, with a couple of clusters of red flowers hanging messily down.
One tentacle comes over to me, holding a yellow fruit.
“It wants to give you a salen fruit,” Jennifer explains. “And it wants to get rid of me.”
Another tentacle snakes up across the rocks and curls itself around Jennifer’s legs, and would have pulled the legs out from under her if I hadn’t grabbed her and intertwined my body with hers.
The bulb lowers itself more, and the eyes look at the whole situation from different angles.
I kick hard at the tentacle holding on to Jennifer, and it reluctantly uncurls and lets her go.
The tentacle holding the fruits offers it to me again.
“Don’t take it,” Jennifer hisses. “I think I know what’s going on.”
I ignore the fruit, and the monster brings it closer, until it’s right under my nose. It makes a small wagging movement, making sure I know the fruit is being offered.
Turning my face away, I squeeze Jennifer harder, and the tentacle withdraws slightly.
This situation is starting to make sense to me, too.
“I think this is the time for your penalty for asking endless questions these past few days,” I say into Jennifer’s hair.
“I think you’re right,” she agrees and looks up at me with some fear, but mostly expectation. “Will it be a particularly thorough penalty?”
“I think it has to be. You were very inquisitive.” I bend my neck and graze Jennifer’s offered mouth with my lips.
She moans softly, and I slightly loosen my grip on her so I can cup her breast and squeeze the insanely feminine firm softness.
My manhood stands like a third presence between us, with the confused monster as a spectator in the air above.
The kiss turns passionate as Jennifer puts her hand behind my head and I squeeze her breast to make her moan again. She complies, louder than I would have expected. She is putting on a show for the monster, and that is probably a good idea.
My other hand slides down her back, then out on the firm, round shelf of her bare behind, feeling the smooth skin and the suppleness of the round flesh beneath. I let my fingertips run down the deep crack to the thighs, then stroke one finger against the extremely feminine flesh down there. There is definitely moisture that’s much more slippery than water.
Jennifer whimpers at the touch and pushes her butt out, into my