Chapter 1: Forced to mate a powerful shaman, Sala chooses to flee.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Historical, BDSM, Rough, Humiliation, Sadistic, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Slow, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1: Forced to mate a powerful shaman, Sala chooses to flee. - Without her consent, Sala has been named the Intended, or future mate, of a powerful shaman. Rather than submit to being joined against her will, the young woman chooses to flee. The Tracker has been instructed to locate the runaway and bring her back. Little does he know she runs for good reason. This Stone Age love story takes place after the last Ice Age, before the dawn of agriculture. Story codes are added as the plot progresses.

Although her instincts warned her to keep moving, the woman hid for a moment behind a thicket of bushes, planning her escape. Shielding her eyes from the sun flashing between the trees, she scanned the landscape for the most strategic route.

The two most promising destinations appeared to be the steep hill rising high above the ground to her right, or the large, dense forest to her left. The woman remembered a hunting party speaking of a great river, about two days' journey beyond a forest at the foot of a hill. From their description of the area she felt certain it was here.

She could see better by taking the hill, but it also meant her adversary would be able to see her better. Also, running up it would slow her down, something to consider as her pursuer drew ever closer.

Over there the trees are thick, she thought as she evaluated the second route. It would make locating me more difficult without the sun guiding the way. From there I could head for the river. She nodded; probably my best chance. The woman had not yet figured out how she planned to use the river to her advantage. Right now, her only concern was stymieing her opponent.

Taking one last look around, she broke for her destination, slipping from tree to bush until at last she passed into the forest's shady canopy.

The dusky light made it difficult to see. Combined with the close proximity of the trees, her passage was challenging and slow, and more than a little frustrating. After tripping over a root for the countless time, she chastised herself for not considering this variable in her calculations. Still, she continued forward as the day grew long, ever deeper into the forest.

She knew she should keep going; she could not allow herself to be captured. But the woman was exhausted. After running all morning and creeping through the forest nearly the entire afternoon, her hunger and need for rest finally won out.

Sitting at the base of an enormous tree, she reached into her haversack for the travel food she managed to bring with her before leaving. She was far hungrier than the amount she ate, but until her pursuer gave up the chase, food needed to be rationed. Although she took advantage of any sources along her path, there wasn't time to search for food.

The woman did not mean to do it, she intended to rest only briefly before resuming her course, but between the hunger and exhaustion from running for days she fell asleep with her back against the massive trunk.

After sleeping for some time, a distinct musky odor incorporated itself into her dream. She knew that scent; what was it? Now, emanating from somewhere in front of her, a subtle warmth drifted toward her body. All at once, she was jarred into consciousness.

Heart pounding, she opened her eyes to find herself face to face with the Tracker, his legs astride hers as he squatted, studying her face in silence. Only his heavy breathing gave away his recent arrival; she had made him work hard this day. The woman gasped in shock to suddenly be looking into the eyes of the man who had been trailing her for five days.

"You are highly skilled at evading capture, Sala," he said at last, his voice low. Surrounded by the thick deep of these trees, quieter speech seemed somehow more appropriate.

"But clearly not infallible," she retorted, trying not fixate on the startling blue of his eyes.

Most of their people shared the rich depth of Sala's dark brown eyes, but every now and then a child in their Camp was born with either blue or green eyes. Because they all had dark hair and lightly tanned skin, this single difference gave the Light-Eyed Ones a striking appearance that brought with it certain advantages.

According to legend, a great many generations ago, not long after the Great Ice retreated, a small party of travelers passed through the land of their ancestors. Paler of skin, with eyes blue as the sky or green as leaves, the men learned their language and adopted their ways. The strangers were said to have lived among them for several years until the Spirits called them to resume their great journey.

As travelers they had learned much, both from interacting with different Peoples as well as from their own experiences. They brought with them many new stories, ideas and innovations. In return for these contributions, the men earned a favored status among their people. Many children were born during the years of their stay, further proof of the luck and great fortune they brought to the Wolf Clan.

Many years after the men had gone, the females who were young women during the time of the Travelers awaited the arrival of their children's children. To everyone's astonishment, a girl was born with eyes blue as the sky. A boy was born shortly thereafter, possessing bright eyes green as leaves. From that time forward, every generation or so, a child or two was born touched by the spirits of the Light-Eyed Travelers.

The Tracker smiled at the sarcastic retort from the woman so close to his body he could feel her warmth. "Still, it is not often anything takes me so many days to find. I might not have been so willing had I known you would be this elusive," he joked. Her feminine perfume drew him a just little closer.

"There is still time to turn around if you wish to change your mind. I will tell no one I ever saw you."

I can see why the Spiritwalker chose her to join with him, he thought with a grin, appreciating her strong, defiant spirit. Looking into her eyes' deep pools, he noted the symmetry of their size and shape. Scanning the rest of her features he thought, she is striking, truly beautiful.

Never before had he really seen her, and Jakal had known Sala all his life; how could he not have noticed before? Now that he had, his loins tightened as he envisioned sharing bodies with her, many times over. He watched Sala's lips part as she began breathing a little heavier, and wondered if she was drawn to him too.

Sala felt Jakal's heat grow as he drew closer. She knew she should tell him to move away, that he was too close. He was not there to help her escape; no, he was there for the specific purpose of bringing her back. Despite this she remained rooted to the spot, transfixed by his gaze.

"We should set up camp soon, before the sun drops from the sky. The day has grown too long to start back now."

Interrupted from her reverie, the woman blinked and saw the Tracker now standing above her.

"We will need water," he continued, holding out his hand to help her up. "I believe there is a stream nearby." He picked up the heavy pack he always carried with him and stood for a moment, listening intently, feeling and smelling the air. "We should find it this way; I do not think it will be far. Are you ready?"

"Why should I go with you?" Sala shot back, her jaw lifted in defiance.

"Because when darkness comes I think neither you nor I will desire solitude in the black depths of this forest."


Jakal's homing skills proved accurate. The pair found the stream they sought and set up a small leather shelter a short distance away. It would be a tight fit inside; he was used to camping out alone and needed only a small sleeping space. The leather of a lean-to was heavy. The smaller the shelter, the lighter the load, and less baggage meant swifter passage.

Opening a leather skin, the man offered Sala some of his travel food. The little cakes made of dried berries, meat, fat and other ingredients offered compact but nearly complete nutrition. Chewing in silence, the two tried to ignore what had passed between them earlier, tried to ignore their scents mingling within the shared space.

"I am sorry you are not happy about returning to the Camp," the Tracker said at last.

"If you were being forced to join with someone you did not want, someone you would never choose, perhaps you would understand." Sala responded with so much conviction he was taken aback.

"You are correct, I cannot truly know your thoughts," he admitted, "but I do know what it means to be bound to obligations for the good of our people."

"Good of our people?" she spat. "The only good it serves is the Spiritwalker's power and prestige. They tell us the Privilege of Selection came from the Great Spirits themselves, yet not even a Clan Leader can force a joining against another's will."

Jakal was stunned by her boldness, but after his shock passed he studied her, pondering her words. It was true their spiritual leaders were the only ones with the status to claim a mate, with or without the Intended's consent. Only those currently joined were exempt. It was considered a great privilege to be selected, a status no one would refuse even if they could. She was right, though; no one else, not even Clan Leaders, had the power to force a joining.

Still, there is more to this than a simple matter of disagreement with a long-standing custom, I am certain of that, he thought as he arranged a pile of tinder on the ground in front of him. There was a passion, a fervor behind her words that betrayed something much deeper under the surface.

Jakal retrieved from his pack a piece of flint and another, special stone. When struck together they created sparks. If aimed correctly, at least one of the sparks would land on the tinder, providing the basis of a campfire. The Spiritwalker was so angry, he remembered, almost in a rage when he sent me after her. What is going on between them? Watching the kindling stacked atop the tinder ignite, the man continued to ponder the situation of which he unwittingly found himself in the middle.

Total darkness dropped on them just as the edges of the largest logs began to glow and catch flame. Only the fire and the front of their bodies could be seen now, all else swallowed by the night.

The Tracker's mind drifted to how his own life had been shaped by the long-held beliefs of his people. Long ago, when the first Light-Eyed Ones were born, the Clan's spiritual leader had proclaimed that pieces of the Travelers' lucky spirits remained among them. Not only were the Light-Eyes lucky, but so was the Wolf Clan itself. So long as a Light-Eyed One lived among them, the Clan would retain its luck.

Jakal was not sure if he believed having blue eyes made him lucky or brought fortune to his people. From what he observed, all it seemed to bring him was attention and privileges he did not always feel he had earned. Even so, there was little point in expressing his doubts to his people. He was the only Light-Eye at the settlement, and their need to believe in the luck of the Travelers was too strong. Asking them to think otherwise was almost like asking them to not believe in the Great Spirits themselves.

"I have been thinking about what you have said," the man said, breaking the silence as the fire grew strong and steady. "And I, I think you raise an interesting point. I, too, have questioned some of our traditions."

"Like the special status of being a Light-Eyed One?" Sala suggested.

Unable to contain his astonishment, for a moment her companion gaped at her in silence.

"Anyone with eyes can see your discomfort, resistance even, to being treated differently," she explained, as if she knew his thoughts. "And I suppose you sometimes use your position as a Tracker to escape the advances of the many females looking to share your furs?"

He shifted uncomfortably. Had he always been so transparent?

Once again quiet settled between them as they sat deep within their own thoughts. Sala considered her next move. She could try to steal away in the night as he slept, but harbored doubts she could squeeze past him in the space of a lean-to built for one without waking him.

The Tracker's senses are finely honed; he would probably wake up even if the shelter were larger. Besides, he had been right; she had no great desire to go running off into the dangerous dark, especially in this unknown place that she found difficult to cross when she could see.

Resigned, the woman acknowledged there would be no escaping him this night. Once that was settled, she turned her attention to alternative strategies she might employ, delaying their return until the opportune moment to slip away arrived.


As expected, the space in the lean-to was snug. However, the night air was cold and the closeness of their bodies provided extra warmth that both welcomed.

Sala lay in the dark, eyes wide open, sharply aware of Jakal's personal musk as her body pressed against his hard, muscular form. Though she was loath to admit it, she had fantasized many times about sharing his furs. But she found the way the other women constantly competed for his attention obnoxious and refused to lower herself to their level.

So here I am at last, she thought, our bodies touching from shoulder to thigh, and the only reason why he is here is to take me back to join with the Spiritwalker. The woman shuddered at the thought of sharing furs with the shaman.

All spiritual leaders held secrets—that was to be expected—but there was something about this man, a dark cruelty he hid well from most of their people. Not often did his control waver, but when the veil did fall Sala saw the man's true self.

He caught her watching him during one of these moments. Conducting a special ritual, he was making incantations while the others chanted in the firelight with their eyes closed, bellies filled with a drink that made it possible, with the shaman's guidance, to enter the Spirit World.

Curious about the inner workings of the spiritual caste for many years, that night Sala had consumed less of the sacred beverage than usual, hoping to remain in this world in order to observe the Spiritwalker at work. When she dared to open her eyes, she saw his flashing and glowing, a madness in his face as he strutted, gesticulating wildly before the kneeling throng.

Before she could stop herself, a soft, startled gasp passed between her lips, enough to alert him that an intruder spied upon him. Without the slightest pause in his invocation, the shaman's eyes blazed as they honed in on the source of the sound. Capturing her gaze in his, he seemed to enter her mind, squeezing her while he probed and violated her from the inside out. Just as she began to panic, he released his grip, turning his eyes away.

She avoided the Spiritwalker's attention for many weeks until finally, her curiosity greater than her fear, she resumed her observations, this time more cautiously from afar. He never caught her again, but several times she felt his eyes boring into her skull, and she worried he knew that she continued to watch him.

So when the Spiritwalker announced he had chosen his Intended, the individual who would become his mate and join him in this world and the next, Sala trembled with disgust and pity for the unlucky recipient of his "gift". When her own name passed from his lips, she froze. Head spinning, stomach churning, through a daze she heard him call her name again, summoning her to join him in front of the entire Clan.

After the announcement she tried to leave at once, seeking to avoid him for as long as she could. As if he knew her intentions, he snatched her arm, his fingers like a claw, and drew her close. "You will join me for a ritual in the Ceremonial Hut when the sun drops," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. "It will be lengthy, so get your rest now while you can."

The structure was set back quite a distance from the rest of the dwellings; the reason for this was to protect the people from the powerful Spirits with whom the shaman communed. It also provided a great deal of privacy to protect his many secrets.

That night the woman's future mate performed the ritual, directing Sala to down fetid, unknown beverage. The drink left her muscles lax, almost completely immobile. He then took her, brutally, in every way possible without leaving obvious signs of injury. He promised more of the same in the future, every day if necessary, until she submitted to him. Unable to speak, she moaned in pain, tears squeezing from her eyes, but her groans were swept away with the wind, unheard in the night.

She knew then she had to leave. In the days after her rape, as her body recovered, Sala developed a plan to escape.

Jakal felt a shudder pass through the body of the woman pressed into him, but he mistook it for a shiver. He had been staring into the darkness, trying not to notice her feminine perfume and the softness of her flesh so tightly against his. His erection straining against his leather garment, he longed to turn toward her, stroking her entire body with his hands and mouth. Instead, he stretched his arm over the woman and covered her a little more snugly with the furs.

"Are you warm enough?" he whispered, sensing she also was awake.

"I am. Thank you."


Sala moaned, arching her back as his lips and fingers circled their way to her stiff nipples.

"Yes Jakal, pleeease!" she pleaded, feeling his tongue working around the sensitive nub while his fingertips mimicked the actions of his mouth on the other breast.

The man lifted his head and blew on the nipple he had been suckling, his hot breath making her shiver. Returning his lips to her chest, he drew his tongue from one breast to the other, tweaking the first with his fingers as his mouth explored its twin. A low rumble rose deep from his chest as she quivered under his attentions.

After a time Jakal began twirling his fingers and tongue in widening circles around her breasts, pausing to nuzzle their sensitive underside. Moaning, again Sala arched her body, leaning into him.

Bit by bit he worked his way down her abdomen. By the time he reached her dark, damp curls, Sala's ragged breaths came in short gasps, and she parted her trembling legs in anticipation.

At last the tip of his tongue made contact with the soft skin of her outer lips and she cried out, lifting her hips to press him against her body. The twitter of songbirds pierced the air, breaking her delirium for only a moment before she wrapped her legs around his head.

Sala's eyes flashed opened, her brain finally registering it was the birds that were real and not their pleasures. Then, horrified, she realized one of her legs was draped over Jakal's sleeping form, her wet sex thrust against his buttocks, juices dampening their bodies and the pelts beneath them. Panicked, her mind raced as she considered how to disengage herself from this compromising position without waking the man beside her.

It was already too late. Jakal had awoken some time earlier, before the very first chirp of a morning bird, to the feel of Sala's leg wrapping around his. His skin prickled, the hair on this body rising as the concentrated heat of her womanhood pressed into his backside; it was not the only thing rising.

The heady aroma of her arousal deep in his nostrils, her quiet moans stroking his mind, the man considered rolling over and waking her from her dream with his head between her legs. Just because she was their shaman's Intended did not mean they could not share furs, even if after the joining it could only be with her mate's approval. Jakal's brow furrowed; it didn't seem right for a woman to lose her choice of lovers.

Among their people, it was the woman, joined or not, who decided with whom she wished to share her body. Some, to please her mate, did not lie with others, but that took great respect, mutual devotion and a highly satisfying lover.

It was not considered the usual practice, as they were not a particularly jealous people, but it also was not forbidden; the choice was hers. If a woman demonstrated that she lay only with her mate, it signaled to the others both he and she were off limits.

So Jakal knew Sala had the right to take him as a lover if she so chose. Of course the man had to be willing, but in general it was not considered polite to spurn a woman's advances without good reason, and in which case it was important to save face when rejecting her invitation. Not that many often desired to turn an alluring female away.

His painfully stiff manhood illustrated he had no intention of rejecting Sala's advances should she make them. Nonetheless, he knew that only if she had welcomed his tongue the night before could he follow through with his desire to taste her now.

Besides, he was assuming she dreamed of him; for all he knew she was using his body inadvertently, imagining herself with some other male. So he continued to lie still, breathing her in, tortured as he burned for her.

A shiver rippled up her spine as the woman fought the urge to run her fingertips down his muscular arm. Holding her breath, she carefully lifted her leg off the man sleeping beside her, sliding her hips back as far as the tiny space would allow.

A moment later the Tracker cleared his throat and turned over, looking at his companion's face as sunlight peeked through tiny gaps in the otherwise dim shelter. Smiling, he asked, low, "The sun has returned. Did you dream well?"

"Er, ah, y-yes, yes I did," Sala stammered, now certain he had been awake all along. "And, and you?"

He nodded. "I often find the moments just before waking to be an especially powerful time for vivid dreams."

Her heart pounded in her throat. "Oh? I had not noticed."

"Yes. Perhaps our spirits know when it is soon time to return home from their wanderings, so they do those things they neglected, but desired to do when they entered the Dream World."

Trembling, Sala forced herself to take a deep breath. It sounded choppy, more ragged than she had hoped. She was unprepared for what came next.

"If I might ask, where did your dreams take you?"

It was a bold, rather intimate question. One's dreamtime journeys contained many secrets of a person's spirit and therefore were considered private, almost sacred. The dreamer could certainly choose to reveal a dream to anyone, but typically, only the closest of companions might solicit that information. There were no formal prohibitions against inquiring about another's dreams; it just was customary to reserve such discussions for one's most trusted confidants.

"I, I do not remember," she answered, too mortified to chastise him for asking her something so personal. "Sometimes I awake from the Dream World with no knowledge of my wanderings from the night before."

The man's lips twitched. "I understand. It also happens to me sometimes. Perhaps at those times one's spirit has chosen to keep certain secrets to itself."

"You may be right."

Silence fell between them, their eyes locked in an embrace for only a moment.

Jakal sat up. "Are you ready to start the day? Perhaps I could catch us fresh fish for our morning meal."


Sala suspected the Tracker recognized the extent of her hunger when he presented her with three fish for them to eat. Under normal circumstances one each would have been more than enough. But she had eaten little in the six days prior to this one. Once she realized someone pursued her, she was forced to work that much harder just to stay ahead of him.

After they had eaten their fill, Sala searched the area around the camp for a suitable branched twig for combing her hair. Lifting her hand to her head, she knew her locks were a tangled mess. The man's hair was similarly disordered; perhaps she should suggest he use the comb once she had finished, she thought with a private smile.

Finding her prize, she returned to the camp, noticing as she approached that her companion, her captor, watched her intently.

"You have found what you were seeking."

"I have," she replied, returning his smile. "And if you do not mind my saying, you may want to use it yourself after I finish. It is easier to bind the hair when it flows smoothly."

Jakal nodded, reflexively reaching a hand to his own head. He grinned. "Since you suggest it, I believe I will."

The woman lowered herself, cross-legged on the ground beside him. Pulling a section of hair over her shoulder, starting from the bottom up, she untangled the strands. She worked her way toward the back of her head when her comb encountered a sizable snarl.

"Ow!" she exclaimed as a fork snagged the heavy knot.

The man, who had been pretending he was organizing his pack rather than observing the woman's fluid, sensual grooming of her shiny locks, looked up.

"I have a large tangle close to the skin," she explained in dismay.

Leaning back, he saw the knot of hair.

"Perhaps I can help," he offered. "Sometimes it is easier for someone who can see the tangle to work it out."

"Thank you," she answered, handing him the makeshift comb and turning so her back faced him.

Jakal settled in behind her with his knees bent, the inside of his long legs touching her hips and the outside of her warm thighs. I need to be close in order to reach her; I would not want to cause her discomfort by pulling on the hair from too far away, he told himself, even as he knew quite well this was not the real reason for his proximity.

He nearly had the knot released when he felt her shudder. "Am I pulling too hard?"

"Oh, no, I just felt a chill. I think it was the wind."

Although his own skin told him no wind was blowing, he let the comment pass. She hungers for my touch, he thought, watching her thick, waist-length locks shimmer as he ran the comb ever more easily through the strands.

She did not act like the other women, but he was certain she desired him. His nose, eyes, skin, even his ears perceived her signals. If she wants me, why won't she initiate a coupling? I am certainly more than willing, he thought, his shaft rising again.

A heat grew against the woman's bottom, emanating from the man behind her. Sala's breathing quickened, sensing the source of the increased warmth, her resolve slipping away like the knots in her hair.

When her tresses were completely smooth, Jakal pulled himself away and sat beside her. "Well, I am finished. I hope I did not cause you any undue discomfort."

"Not at all. Thank you." She paused. "It would only be right to return the favor. If that would please you, of course."

"Thank you. It would be easier to have someone who can see the knots work them out."

They exchanged a smile as she settled in behind him. Following his example, Sala sat with her legs spread apart on either side of his as he sat cross-legged in front of her. But like him, she sat in this manner in order to feel the warmth of his body.

His hair was shorter than hers, she observed as she removed the leather thong tied low at the base of his neck, but not by much. The color was a couple of shades lighter than hers too, but still very dark like all of their people. To the untrained eye of strangers, it might appear that they all had the same colored hair and eyes with the partial exception of the Light-Eyed Ones, but the variations were obvious to them.

Working on small sections at a time, Sala noticed the natural spirals of the finely textured strands; the weight of his hair and the fact that he almost always wore it tied back obscured most of the natural curl. He always did have beautifully wavy hair as a boy, she thought. I suppose I had always assumed it went away when he became a man. But then, never have I been so close to Jakal's hair since we were children.

"Your hair still curves like when you were a boy," she said aloud. "I had thought it mostly went away when you reached manhood."

"My hair is so much longer now, I do not think it can be easily seen unless one is very close."

Jakal flinched when her combing fingers brushed his neck. Sala drew back her hand. "I am sorry; it was an accident."

"Your touch does not bother me in the least," he assured her. "I was just thinking and it caught me unaware."

After a time she spoke again. "I noticed you do not have many cakes of travel food left. Perhaps we should take time to secure more provisions."

"I agree; I had been considering the same this morning. What do you suggest we do? Stay here another night?"

"There are fish in the stream, but not many bushes and roots grow under trees so thickly together," she began, hesitating.

The man said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"If we follow the water downstream, we will come to a river, probably less than a day's hike away. There should be more light there, more plants. We would have no problem finding food near the river."

The Tracker frowned. "Traveling downstream would take us further away from the Camp, not closer."

Though he expressed doubt, he found himself, despite his own better judgment, searching for a way to rationalize accepting her proposition. It was not like anyone from the Wolf Clan knew where they were or how far they had traversed, and no one actually said they must return at once.

"After we have collected enough food, we could follow the river up or downstream, away from this dense forest to where the trees stand farther apart. That will make it easier to navigate, hastening our return," she argued, though she knew very well she had no intention of returning. "Besides, our Clan does not know where we are. What difference does an extra day or two make?"

Jakal laughed, amused by her use of the same logic as his own. He liked this woman, very much, and was sorry he hadn't known her better before now. It would be pleasurable to spend a little more time in her company. "After you finish removing the tangles from my hair, I will pack up the shelter so we can be on our way and find your river."

Sala sighed with relief, unaware until that moment that she had been holding her breath. "Thank you."


The day grew long as the pair hiked beside the stream toward the river into which it flowed. Jakal was feeling increasingly foolish, beginning to believe he had allowed himself to be manipulated into taking a pointless detour.

He knew the tributary would eventually join with the river, but when? He had never journeyed this far into the dense forest before, making it more difficult to judge their precise location. Would she try tonight to get him to walk "just one more day" to reach it?

But then, he had not put up much resistance to her idea. What made it even worse was his motivation for doing so had been purely selfish; he put his own desires in front of his duty.

Why does she resist joining with the Spiritwalker so much, he wondered. She is independent and stubborn, and wants to choose her own mate. He could understand and respect that. Still, being the mate of a spiritual leader brought with it high status, many privileges, even if he knew that a high status was not all it may seem to others. Mostly, he had never known of anyone so opposed to such a joining that she would actually try to leave.

But then, he was just as surprised to be summoned by the shaman and directed to locate and bring back his Intended; in fact, Jakal was advised not to return without her.

"Why has she gone?" he had asked at the time, perplexed by her sudden departure.

The Spiritwalker glared at him. "It is not your concern to consider the whys, Tracker. It is your duty only to follow my instructions."

Jakal remembered the flush of the man's face, the angry fire in his eyes as it became clear the Spiritwalker believed her disappearance caused him to lose face. As he set out to scour the landscape for the missing woman, the Tracker pieced together enough of the available information to conclude that she left because she did not wish to be their spiritual leader's mate.

Though he would never say it, he had thought to himself more than once during his search that perhaps the shaman should reconsider his selection. If she demonstrates so strongly that she does not desire this joining, why not choose someone who would welcome such a pairing?

He glanced to the woman in front of him, her shapely hips swaying as her muscular legs led them ever forward, back straight and strong, long hair swinging with each step. She is willing to lose everyone, everything she knows in order to keep the right to choose, the Tracker thought. The realization filled him with renewed admiration for her courage and determination.

Just as the sun was beginning to drop from the sky, Jakal felt increased humidity in the air. Shortly thereafter he heard the first murmurs of running water.

Sala turned her head toward her shoulder as she walked. "I hear the river; it should not be far now."

"I hear it too," he acknowledged.

The trees thinned until they found themselves standing on the wide banks of a great river.

The woman gasped. "Jakal, look! Falling water!" she squealed, her face beaming as she pointed to the waterfall nearby.

One of the tributaries that fed into this river flowed from a towering hill to their right. The higher ground ended abruptly as it met the river's edge. This sent the stream cascading into a pool just off of the primary current, the ribbon of water completing its journey home in a most dramatic way.

With shining eyes, Sala turned to the man beside her.

"It is beautiful," he agreed, his smile as wide as hers.


With dusk upon them by the time they arrived at their destination, Sala and Jakal rushed to gather firewood. The extended hike after so many days of swift travel left them both exhausted, and they intended to turn in early. For a time, however, they talked and looked at the stars; they had not realized just how nice it was to see them again after a night in a forest with a canopy so dense few stars penetrated.

In spite of herself, Sala began to let her guard down. Jakal was intelligent and perceptive, and she truly enjoyed talking with him. I know we are not going anywhere tomorrow, she rationalized; it will take all day just to collect the food and perhaps even into the next to dry it enough to be suitable for transit. So for another day she put off formulating a plan to escape.

Soon thereafter they crawled into the lean-to and attempted once again to arrange themselves into workable positions so both could sleep comfortably. They laughed at their predicament, as much to dissipate some of the tension as it was a result of the cramped space.

"It is good the water makes the air so cold here," Jakal joked. "That makes having to sleep so closely together useful."

The air was colder here, and despite the furs and the heat of their bodies lying side by side, Sala began to shiver. She tried burrowing into the layers covering them a bit more to warm herself better, but she could not stop shaking.

"Sala, you are cold," the man said out of the darkness. She could feel him shifting around. "If you turn onto your side and come closer, my body can help warm yours."

Grateful, the shivering woman readjusted herself under the furs and into Jakal's form. He took her in his arms, cupping his body over the back of hers. His arms wrapped around her trunk and rested on her stomach.

"Are you warm enough now?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes, that really helps. Thank you, Jakal," she replied, snuggling closer.


The next morning it was the Tracker who woke up feeling awkward. The woman who slept beside him remained in the same position as she had been the night before, the back of her body against the front of his. The soft curve of her buttocks pressed into his groin as her chest rose and fell with her breaths. It was too much stimulation for his body to take; by the time he had woken, his manhood was nearly ready to burst.

Her soft body felt so good beside him, smelled so good, and he could not help but imagine himself sliding her thighs apart and slipping his aching member inside her hot depths. If only he could move his hands a little higher, cup his palms over her luscious breasts, tease her nipples stiff with his fingertips. How he wished her could bury his face into her neck, nibble the line of her shoulder, suckle her earlobe. If only she would ask, he would bring her every form of pleasure he knew, making her cry out in ecstasy over and over until she begged for a reprieve.

This line of thinking was not helping relieve the stiffness in his organ. Instead, it began to throb with his need. Jakal was starting to chastise himself for the position his fantasizing had gotten him into, when to his great surprise he felt Sala's fingertips stroking his erection through his leather leggings. He raised his hips a little, desperate for relief. At last she is signaling her desire to couple, at last we can...

Just as suddenly Sala jerked her arm away. Stretching her limbs, she yawned and turned onto her back, blinking a few times before opening her eyes.

"Jakal," she murmured, turning her head toward him. "The sun has returned. Did you dream well?"

Again, she was asleep! How could she inflict such agony upon him?

He remembered then that she had asked him a question. "Uh, yes, yes I did. And you?"

She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I did. I was dreaming about the days when I first passed into womanhood."

She needed to say no more. The crossing into womanhood was as highly anticipated a time for men as it was for the young woman, for those she selected would have the honor of being among the first to teach her the pleasures of the body.

Suppressing an urge to sigh, Jakal sat up. "Well, after our morning meal we should get to work securing our food supply. We lost a day coming here and have much to do before we return."

The woman did not bother to suppress her sigh. "Very well. But first, I am going to look for the foaming plant so I can bathe under the falling water."

Bathing did sound like a good idea. It had been many days, too many really, since he last washed his body. "Agreed. I think I will do the same."

After a quick breakfast of travel cake, Sala set off downstream scanning the area for soaproot. She found what she was looking for in a grassy meadow some distance from the camp and pulled up a few of the bulbous flowering plants. Although he had not asked it of her, the woman collected enough so that they both could thoroughly clean their bodies.

Returning from her search, Sala stripped off her dirty clothing, leaving it and a soft pelt to use as a towel on the riverbank. She stepped into the shallow pool off of the main, deep current, wading toward a large stone with an impression on top, almost like a bowl. Using another stone, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, the woman pounded at the roots until she had a good quantity of foam.

"Jakal, come," she called. "There is enough foaming plant for both our bodies."

He had been watching her, not obviously he hoped, while he fished downstream a short distance from their camp. His loins tightened for the second time that morning, now due to the sight of Sala's naked body. She stood in the cold water just above her waist, her dark nipples hard and jutting, while she beckoned to him, smiling.

The woman was already drenching her hair and body under the fall by the time Jakal reached her location, allowing him to remove his clothing and slip into the pool without his stiff tool being seen.

Though it was quite cold, his skin prickling all over, the view of Sala's nakedness caressed by the flowing water kept his member rigid. He was so tall that it bounced along near the surface, but he was now too entranced to care.

Sala stepped away from the cascade toward the rock containing the pounded soaproot. She scooped up a handful and began working it through her hair. Smiling broadly at the man beside her, she suggested, "You should stand under the falling water to wet your hair and body. It is very exciting to feel it coming down on you."

It is not the only thing that is very exciting, Jakal thought. "Thank you, I will," he answered, returning her smile.

The woman allowed herself to watch the naked man as he waded toward the fall. She had glimpsed his erection and found it both flattering and arousing that he could maintain it in water this cold.

The firm muscles of his back, shoulders and arms rippled with each step. While he stood under the waterfall, Sala envisioned herself sliding her body all over his, then taking that beautiful organ into her mouth. She felt her sex pulling, surging as she watched his drenched skin shine.

At last he returned to where she stood. "You are right. That is ... exhilarating," he enthused with a grin, his hair dripping over his shoulders.

After working the foam through their hair, they began rubbing their bodies with the natural soap. Taking a scoop of foam in her hand, Sala waded toward another rock on the other side of the pool so that she could sit on it and wash her genitals. For privacy's sake she turned her back toward Jakal before opening her legs.

It did not matter that her back faced him; the Tracker became even more aroused at the sight of the woman's naked back, tan legs spreading wide, hands disappearing between them. He stopped washing his own body, distracted by watching her touch her most private of places.

Her task complete, Sala had almost completely turned around before he realized he had been staring. Smiling, she waded her way back to him.

"Will you rub the foam on my back?" she requested, turning around and lifting her thick veil of hair.

The man nodded, his mouth too dry to speak. Working in circles, he massaged her back while he worked the soaproot over her sleek, pliant skin. His erection strained painfully; never had he desired a woman so much, never had he been so denied. He had to will himself not to slide his foamy hands to the split between her buttocks.

"Thank you," Sala said after he had finished. "Would you like me to wash your back?"

Again Jakal nodded without a word, turning around and lifting the heavy length of his hair.

Rubbing the muscles of his back in circles as he had done for her, the woman luxuriated in his hard, masculine figure. By the Spirits, she thought, his body is as beautiful as the rest of him. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the powerful muscles of his backside flexing as he thrust into her again and again.

Unbeknownst to her, Sala began caressing his back with slow, sensuous strokes as she fantasized about coupling with Jakal. However, this action had not been lost on him.

When her caressing fingers worked their way down to his low back, he could take the agony no longer. With a deep groan, he turned around and implored at last, "Woman, why do you torment me? You touch me as though you desire me and you use my body while you sleep. When you look at me your eyes and body show your need. I offer myself freely to you. Why do you not wish to share bodies with me?"

Sala froze, stunned at his plea, stunned he had given voice to that which had been torturing them both since the moment he captured her. A man was not usually so forward with a woman. It was up to her to decide whether or not to initiate a coupling. He could indicate his interest, of course, but he typically did so with far more subtlety.

At the same time, a woman either wanted a man or did not want him. Certainly a degree of flirtation or teasing was anticipated in order to prolong or heighten their mutual gratification, but it was understood to be inappropriate to arouse him again and again if she had no intention of sharing furs with him.

Why was she fighting what both of them so clearly wanted? Her attraction to him was undeniable. She enjoyed his company. Was she so stubborn, so inflexible that she would actually pass up an opportunity for real pleasure? Besides, what did it matter? She was leaving anyway.

Jakal's skin flushed at his impulsive outburst. While he had never had problems finding willing partners before, he knew quite well what he had said was not in good form; he embarrassed them both by not demonstrating more self-control. But he really did want to know the answer to his question. He wanted her, she wanted him; why did she resist what was so natural between them? At least now it was out in the open.

"I, I am sorry," Sala began at last, feeling self-conscious and shy. "I do desire you, I do want to share bodies with you."

His forehead wrinkled. "If you feel that way, then why have you not signaled your wish to couple?"

"I, I do not know. I, I find the way the other women compete over you ... unbecoming. I did not wish to be like them. Besides, you came for me to capture me, force me to return to the Camp and the Spiritwalker. I did not want to want you but my body would not listen."

The Tracker stifled the urge to smile. "We have much to discuss," he acknowledged. "But since you have made your desire known, will you first allow me to bring you pleasure? It might be easier to have a serious discussion if we ... relieve some of the tension we both feel."

A wide grin spread over Sala's face. "Yes, let us pleasure one another. But first, we need to wash the foam from our bodies."

Jakal's laughter rang out into the open air; he had completely forgotten that his hair and body was covered with soaproot. Picking up her hand, he replied, "Come."

The sheet of cold water rushed over them, rinsing the foam from their hair and skin effortlessly. The man turned to the woman beside him and drew her close, pressing his mouth against hers as they stood under the fall. Only the need to breathe forced the end of the kiss.

Sala's legs felt weak. If she had known kissing Jakal would feel this way, she would not have been so reluctant. Not wanting to waste any more time, she grabbed his hand and pulled him from the cascading stream toward the riverbank. They twisted their long hair, squeezing out the excess water, and took turns drying themselves with the pelt towel.

Their still-damp bodies came together, arms snaked around each other, hands stroking backs and waists as they kissed deeply. The woman brought a tentative tongue to the space where their lips met and was pleased to find him eager to accept her. He allowed her tongue to explore his mouth for a few moments before meeting her tongue with his own and finally exploring his partner's mouth.

A groan passed from one to the other, their lips locked together. At last Jakal broke the kiss and looked down into the woman's dilated eyes. "I have wanted to do that since I found you."

"Me too," Sala admitted. "That and more."

He groaned again. "Come, Sala. Lie with me."

The couple ran naked to the lean-to. Snatching the furs from inside, they spread them on a flat area near the shelter. That done, they stood before them, kissing again; this time the man reached one hand to a breast, caressing its beautifully curved shape and stroking his fingers over her hardened nipple.

At the same time, the woman's hand glided down his body, her fingers fondling the sensitive head of his manhood as she felt the lubricating fluid leaking from its tiny opening. Closing her fingers around his hot shaft, she began sliding her fist from base to tip, his foreskin assisting her efforts to bring him pleasure.

Once more they shared a moan between them, and again Jakal broke the kiss.

"Beautiful Sala, I am so close to release with my need for you," he confessed, voice heavy with desire. "If you continue touching me as you are I may not be able to join our bodies together, and I very much wish to do so."

Removing her hand from his organ, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Leading her by the hand, Jakal lowered the woman to the silky furs so that she lay on her back.

Lying beside, facing her, he turned her face toward his and kissed her again before his lips drifted to her chin and jaw. He worked his way to one earlobe, then the other, nibbling each while Sala moaned. Grazing her neck and collarbone, the woman cried out again as his mouth contacted her sensitive places.

"Mmm, yesss. Please," she pleaded, begging him to continue. "I need you, need your..."

The man picked up the arm closest to him and caressed the soft skin of her inner arm with his lips and tongue, working his way up. As he passed her underarm, he inhaled. After bathing, her personal scent was rather faint, but his nose was quite sensitive and Jakal groaned as he breathed in her essence. He then moved on to her chest, circling his way to her breasts.

It is so much like my dream, the woman thought as she waited impatiently for him to suckle her sensitive nipples. I cannot believe I almost did not ... Her thoughts were cut off as he finally drew one of them into the heat of his wet mouth.

While she arched her back in a silent appeal for him to continue, Jakal explored each hardened tip with his mouth and fingers, alternating his attention from one to the other, listening to Sala moan and sigh beneath him.

At last he drew away from her breasts, eager to explore the rest of her body. Positioning himself between her legs he covered her abdomen with the same licks and nibbles he used before until, unable to wait any longer, she pushed his head toward his ultimate destination.

The man kissed the silky inside of both her thighs, slowly sliding his lips up one leg toward and over her burning sex and back down the other leg, delighting in the shivers it elicited in her.

"Pleeease Jakal," the woman begged, urging him to move on with whatever it was he was planning to do.

With a satisfied smile, the Tracker decided to end her torment. Spreading her legs a little wider, the swollen folds of her womanhood parted before him.

Once again he inhaled her special fragrance; after building her arousal for so long, he could smell her better now and his rigid shaft throbbed in anticipation. He slowly drew the tip of his tongue the length of her entrance, causing the woman to flail about. She was so close to the edge that she was ready to erupt. As he groaned at the taste and feel of her velvety petals covered with her sweet nectar, Sala lay moaning, squeezing her nipples between her fingers.

Jakal licked his way to the top of her slit, finding her button engorged and released from its hood. He lightly blew on it and she screamed, the heat of his breath nearly sending her soaring off the cliff. Lowering his lips to surround the node, he flicked it with his tongue.

"Yesss, yes, YES!" Sala shrieked, bucking, finally finding release.

Following her thrashing body through the wave, Jakal kept his mouth over her bud, continuing to lick it up and down, side to side, around and around. He soon felt her body stiffening, another swell about to crash.

"No, no ... oh yes, yes! Yes, Jakal!" she screamed afresh as another wave tore through her.

The Tracker shifted his body up her feminine form until his eyes met hers. Before she could say a word, he lowered his head to kiss her. Tasting herself on his face, her groan vibrated against him.

Bringing her hands to his shoulders, she ran them down his muscular arms. "Please," Sala begged, lowering one hand to his swollen organ, sliding the foreskin back and forth, "join with my body, make me your woman."

They both moaned as he entered her. Placing his hands behind her head, he crushed his mouth against hers as he ground into her pelvis, his shaft pushing deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed. Jakal then began to pump, building up speed while her body trembled beneath him.

"By the Spirits!" she cried out, cresting yet again.

With a final thrust, shouting her name, he followed her over the edge. Sala's spasms drained his tool of its pent-up seed until finally, at long last, his shuddering body was completely spent.


The cool air of twilight bolted Jakal from his slumber. Darkness approaches already? How can this be, he asked himself, confused. As the fog began to lift from his mind a smile formed; he remembered now the reason for his fatigue.

They had spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon sharing bodies. Perhaps their frustrated desire, once unleashed, led to their urgent, repeated coupling.

He had peaked five times, something he would not have thought possible, but she appeared to have special power over his manhood. Sala erupted with pleasure more times than he could count. She remained in a state of such arousal that after a time merely touching her once in the right place sent her cresting.

He loved the soft, beautiful contours of females and greatly enjoyed coupling with them. He knew he was a considerate lover, one who genuinely derived pleasure from giving pleasure to his partners. Many of the women he shared furs with told him it was so often enough, even those who were joined, so he supposed he felt confident about his skills.

But Sala ... There was something about her. He never had such a highly-charged experience with another before, and from her reaction to him he suspected she felt similarly. If he could get his manhood to rise, he would join with her body another time yet this day.

His musings ended when he realized that this day was now almost over and still they had not gathered the food they needed. The extra days of travel and camping made replenishing their reserves even more necessary. I have neglected my duties, he thought, casting a glance toward the naked, sleeping woman beside him.

Reaching for her shoulder, Jakal called in a low voice, "Sala, wake up. Darkness approaches and we must make ready for night."

In a few moments she opened her eyes, still a little sleepy, looking at the man who roused her with a seductive smile.

"Jakal..." she breathed, her mind filled with thoughts of their recent intimacy.

"Sala, we slept the day away," he informed her regretfully. "We did not gather any food, and night approaches yet again."

Sitting up on her elbow, she replied, "So we will stay another night. What of it?"

"You know both you and I have obligations we must fulfill, and each delay reflects poorly on us both."

"Are you saying you regret sharing your body with me?"

"Uh, er, no, of course not. Though perhaps we could have stopped earlier, or not slept afterward."

"I would not trade a single moment of the pleasure I had with you, Jakal. And as for sleep, well, we worked very hard this day." The woman gave him a sly smile. Despite himself, he glanced at her breasts and noticed her dark nipples had once again contracted.

"Sala, you are not taking this seriously."

"Perhaps not. But I can see from your eyes that again you think of coupling with me. So I wonder what it is you actually regret?"


The fish sizzled from the sharpened stick on which it dangled. Thankfully, the Tracker's earlier efforts at securing food that morning proved successful, saving them the drudgery of yet another meal of travel cakes.

The woman's eyes flickered in the active glow of the campfire. "Jakal, I am grateful you caught some fish this morning," she acknowledged as he held another portion of the cooked meat before her. She accepted his offer appreciatively, famished after their day of sexual congress.

"You are welcome," he responded, smiling as he gazed at her, admiring her face in the firelight.

She gasped.

"What troubles you?"

"Nothing," Sala answered. "I am simply ... moved by the way your eyes touch me as your hands and mouth touch my body."

Shifting to sit more closely at her side, contacting skin on skin, the man stared into the dancing flame.

"Your touch moves me as well," he admitted, amazed to feel his member twitch yet again as he recalled their lovemaking. How does she possess such power?

"Do you ... do you think you could make your manhood rise one more time?"

"It may be possible," he replied, his tone sober. "But we will only know for certain if we try."

The woman looked up to see him grinning at her. She smiled back playfully. "We got plenty of sleep this day," she returned. "I think we will have time to explore the possibilities."

After finishing their meal, they each took a long draught from the river, then washed their hands and faces clean.

Stepping behind her, the Tracker slid his large hands under Sala's garment, lifting the leather higher and higher until he reached her supple breasts. Fingering her erect nipples, he felt the woman shiver against him.

"Oh Jakal," she moaned, pressing her exposed bottom against his body. She stretched her arms back to grasp his muscular buttocks, grinding herself into his groin. A sharp inhalation of breath caught in his throat.

Turning around to face the man who brought her so much pleasure, Sala slipped her arms around his neck, pulling his head to hers. Their open mouths connected, tongues meeting and dancing together, while their lips hummed and aroused groans left them both at once.

Sala's hands rippled down his backbone to the waist of his leather leggings. Grazing his skin, she skimmed her fingers along the top of his garment until they met in front and released the knot. Then, hooking them on either side of his hips, she knelt, sliding the leather from his body. The muscles of Jakal's abdomen quaked under her searing touch and, eyes fluttering closed, he unleashed a moan.

Sala gazed upon the man's twitching but still-flaccid member, nestled in a thatch of dark curly hair, before leaning forward and drawing it between her lips. Even in his softened state, he was nearly too much for her to take, but at last her face met the base of his groin.

She drew back, using her tongue to explore every surface of his organ. Sliding back his foreskin to expose the sensitive tip, the woman looked at it lovingly before engulfing it in her mouth.

"By the Spirits, woman!" he cried, looking down with amazement. "You make me rise again!"

Jakal's manhood began to stiffen as her talented tongue swirled and stimulated its head. Pulling back the covering exposed the membrane connecting it to his shaft, and Sala flicked the tip of her tongue against it over and over, feeling his body shudder under her treatment, fresh groans of arousal rising from his belly.

Gently lifting his member, she flattened her tongue and licked down its length to its base before lowering her head to explore his sacs, moaning as she inhaled his masculine odor.

"Sala," the man implored, placing his hands on her head, "beautiful, magnificent woman. After this I do not think even you will be able to make me rise again this night. I wish to pleasure you and delay my release."

Reluctantly she withdrew, but not without stroking his tool one last time from root to tip as she stood to meet his gaze.

Wrapping his arms around her back he drew her close, kissing her with feeling. Breaking their embrace, the man crouched down to retrieve the garment bunched at his ankles.

"Come," he said, picking up the discarded leggings, "lie with me so I may bring you pleasure as you have given me."

Holding hands they stepped lightly to the lean-to. Jakal grasped the bottom of Sala's garment to help her remove it. She raised her arms as he slid the shift over her head, feeling the warmth of her body radiating from the soft leather for a moment before placing it on top of his clothing at the entrance to the shelter.

Before going inside he ran his hands down the length of her body from neck to thigh, pausing to stimulate her nipples as he massaged them in circles, delighting in her sighs. On his way back up he slipped his fingers between her legs. Finding her hot and slick with arousal, his throat rumbled with pleasure. In anticipation of what was to come, he pulled himself away and lifted the flap leading to the interior of the shelter, helping the woman inside before entering himself.

The light of the campfire squeezed through what cracks it could find, but it was essentially dark inside and they groped to find the orientation of each other's body in the blackness. Jakal carefully crawled over Sala's form, crouching between her thighs. Listening with excitement to her expectant whimpers he lifted her bent legs, spreading them as wide as possible, and placed his forearms on her inner thighs to keep her open to him. She reached for him, moaning and trembling, fingers clutching at his hair.

He lowered his tongue and tasted her unique, luscious flavor that had become quite familiar to him over the course of that day. Pinned down as she was, nonetheless the woman jumped under him, lifting her hips off the furs as she felt him kiss her most private place.

Jakal stroked the petals covering her entrance with his lips, up one side, then the other, avoiding the bundle of nerves at the apex of her opening. He repeated these motions, this time adding his tongue; she hung on the verge of eruption, her legs shaking beneath him.

When he slid his tongue between her folds again it was more than Sala could bear. Despite the weight of his arms she broke her legs free and wrapped them around his head in a silent demand to finish what he had started.

Her stomach shuddered when at last he focused his attention on her stiffened node. Raising her hips off the ground she cried, "Oh yes, oh please, I beg you, take me to the Other World!"

The woman felt the first wave radiate out through her limbs. "YES!" she screamed, hands gripping the pelts below her as her body bucked with each pulse.

At last her thrashing subsided and her legs released their hold on Jakal's head. A little embarrassed, after he moved his body up to lie on top of hers she said, "I am sorry my legs locked over your head in such a way. I did not realize I held you so tightly until just now."

He kissed her, and she moaned at the taste of her own sex. "You do not need to apologize," he insisted. "It brings me immense pleasure pleasuring you." He paused. "Besides, if it were my choice I think I would spend much of my days locked between your thighs."

Sala heard the playful tone in his voice and she laughed; soon he joined her and their joyful laughter rang out into the blackness.

Fingers squeezing her nipples brought the woman back to their current situation, and she wrapped her arms around Jakal's muscular back, her skin caressed by his long hair.

"Take me," she urged, her voice almost a whisper. "Make me your woman, Tracker."

Jakal growled; that was what he had been waiting to hear. Placing his hands on her knees he parted her legs, exposing her opening to him. Just before entering her he reached down to stroke her engorged nub until he heard her whining his name. He slid his fingers to her slit and, parting the lips, penetrated her.

Sala sighed as she felt the heat of his shaft filling her slick passage. Her body rose up to meet his on every in stroke, trying to bring him even deeper inside. The warm, smooth friction of their rhythm brought them higher and higher until finally the woman begged him for mercy.

"Please, I want ... I need ... Please ... I need you, need your..."

Her desperate pleas pushed Jakal off the cliff. "SA-LAAA," he groaned, spurting his load as he lost control, his body shuddering with relief.

The woman's body began to convulse at the sensation of his jerking organ emptying into her depths, and she screamed as she, too, reached her peak. The frantic tremors of her sex clutched his manhood, milking his remaining seed.

He dropped on top of her, their perspiring bodies heaving in concert as they waited to recover. When he was able, Jakal shifted off of Sala and lay on his side against her. He took her arm and slipped it under his so that he could make fuller contact with her womanly form. He sniffed her hair and suckled an earlobe.

"You asked me earlier if I regretted sharing bodies with you on this day," he whispered in the dark, nuzzling the curve between her neck and shoulder. "I do not, I cannot, even if I should, even if it makes us late another day."

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