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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please
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The Treasures Inside Her Cave
by Slim n' Dusty (slimndusty@yahoo.co.uk)
***
This bone-loving female soldier doesn't keep her
skeletons in a closet, she keeps them safely tucked
away at an undisclosed site - ALL FOR HERSELF! (F/M+,
v, nec)
***
She visited them as regularly as she could.
The drive in her jeep would take her through various
mountainous terrain and valleys of bare rock. A place
fondly remembered, far enough from main roads and
remote enough from her own existence in the noisy city.
She would stay usually no more than one or two nights
in her cave, but the nights there were her medicine
that she had to take. Her nights would rejuvenate her,
recharge her, fire her hormones and detonate her
sexuality. She would go away, but she would always
return a little older, but more desperate, confident
and desirous than less.
Her stomach, nearing empty, would always return her
reluctantly to the closed society she had long learned
to despise. In her cave, however, she was the female
version of Robinson Crusoe. She would bring along
jerrycans and ration packs and enjoy her treasures and
the intensity of her own self-made environment.
It was an island for her. A necessary one because most
people would not understand her, they would simply
judge her with the mentality of sheep. A closed
mentality. While she was alive, she would be dutiful to
her own sensuality and pleasures. She would explore the
darkest recesses of her female brain and bring fantasy
to life. What society didn’t know about, didn’t matter…
Whenever she made her approach after the long drive,
she would approach her cave with the same caution when
she approached it for the first time. The reason for
the slow approach wasn’t just for caution, of course.
The area had been safe for quite a while. Her body and
her nature also felt the need to approach it slowly to
soak in the moment, to play act in the way she did as a
little girl, to feel the intense rush of feelings that
swept her trembling into that place.
She adored reliving the experiences she had there. The
silence and the isolation further fed the intensity of
the experience. She craved these moments of isolation,
to be away from other living people, people who would
never understand her and who would harass and victimise
her because of her differences. Some would want her
locked up. A menace, a disease of immorality and
depravity.
They would not call her a ‘normal’ person, they would
isolate themselves from her, excommunicate themselves.
There would sometimes be a few others who would see her
different, they would see her as a delicious wild
flower, a deliciously rare wild flower who deserved to
chase whatever satisfied her. They had a similar mind
and outlook oppression on sexuality however exotic.
Unfortunately, these types appeared so rare that she
never heard from them, they kept to themselves, chasing
and feeding their own depravities, their intense hot-
blooded sexualities.
Nearing the entrance to her cave, she would sometimes
have to stop to recover and drink water from the
nearest jerrycan. Her gasping would come from the heat
of the sun, the breeze over the rocks and the sounds
she made as she neared the entrance. Sometimes, like
on this occasion, she would resist the urge to remove
her top and pants and masturbate in the open with only
a blue cloudless sky above. Other times, she would let
passion out of its stifling cage and stand there with
her legs well apart.
She would watch her shadow while the back of her neck
felt incessant warm kisses from the sun. She would
watch the shadow of her left hand moving gently in
rhythm with her heartbeat. Leaning against a rock face
near the entrance, she would squeeze her full nipples
while deftly working her fingers over the moist pink
flesh, not enough to relieve her, but to sharpen her
desires into razors…
She had always kept her sexuality to herself as she did
the treasures inside her cave. She would wait for her
dark eyes to slowly adjust to the light and then she
would enter into her self-made world. Stowing her gear
at the back, she would then open her bag of candles and
light up the darkness just enough for her to make out
her treasures inside. Each candle placed strategically
to create a delicious atmosphere of her own choosing.
Introducing the candlelight slowly made her quiver. She
would begin to make out her still treasures lying there
in the darkness. And when she felt the light soft but
sufficient, she would slowly remove her khaki top and
her camouflaged trousers and drop them below her knees.
She would take out her digital camera and squat above
the nearest round bone she could find.
Peering between her smooth, rounded thighs she would
moan at the deteriorated condition of the taut
leathered skin that the candlelight displayed for her.
How, with each visitation, the leathery covering would
slowly reveal more of the white head bone beneath. She
would have wanted to touch, to caress more but she
dared not to for fear of him deteriorating too rapidly.
The camera flash lit the inside of her cave as she took
her first picture of the man’s skull laying there in
the dirt between her white, warm thighs.
Her second image was of the dark sadness of the empty
eye sockets that she loved. She moaned at the large
gaping hole where a man’s mouth and tongue had once
been. The dried skin still clinging to jaws and cheeks.
Her third flash captured the empty mouth and the taut
skin gave him an appearance that he was screaming. With
images as overwhelming as this, she would start
trembling. Slowly she would stand with camera around
her neck and remove her panties, before squatting down
to spread her legs wide and part her hot, moist labias
with one hand. Her other hand would hold the camera.
Moaning she would feel her hot urine vacate her body,
her fingers would nimbly direct the yellow arc. Her
self-discipline allowed her to start and stop at a
given moment. She would aim and squirt at all the main
orifii. The camera would flash, capturing her warming
herself up with an easy target - aiming into each dark
eye socket, before she would direct her urethral
opening to the neat, round hole that she had made in
his forehead so many years before.
Her favourite part was the screaming mouth hole. She
would aim casually and squirt in stages, watching her
salty liquid flow out from her tiny, pulsing, warm hole
and into the large accommodating mouth hole of the dead
male soldier she had shot. Capturing each squirt on
camera, she would slide a finger through her moist
slit, starting slowly from the base of her vaginal
entrance right through to her swollen clit, she would
complete the brief arousal by rubbing it tenderly. She
would follow this with more urine, filling him slowly
with her offering into his bony cup-like skull. She
would listen to the sound of her hot piss filling him
up, before she would stop so that he wouldn’t overflow
with her liquid waste.
She would begin to intensify her stroking the more she
emptied her bladder. Her fingers gliding over her soft,
thick outer lips as she inhaled the fragrance of her
own piss. She saw how her salty liquid would quickly
dry out in the desert air and how the salt would stain
the bones of the three dead men in her cave and how it
would add to their further deterioration. Each time she
visited them, she would add more to all her previous
efforts, while she replayed this particular favourite
event from the war in her mind…
Their panicky attempt to fight back in the semi-
darkness with their own rifles. She knew the terrain
well and she could have made the encounter long-winded
and torturous for the men, but she didn’t bother. She
dropped them neatly as they approached the cave so that
carrying them inside was less effort for her. Piss or
bullets, she had always been good with her aiming and
enjoyed the feelings that both gave her. She hovered
around the cave briefly early the next day, removing
traces of the event so that any wandering tribesmen or
lost outsiders alike would not discover any evidence of
what went on.
And then she left them in the cave long enough to bloat
and swell and do what dead men do best as their
lifeless bodies would begin the process of slowly
breaking down. She knew how long it would take and kept
them fully clothed in their uniforms because she found
it arousing to see the clothing deteriorate along with
their bodies, their putrid insides leaking out and
slowly staining their uniforms…
She lay back now and relished the feel of the many
bones of the men mingled together inside her cave. Her
past moments of pure lust, of lying and rolling there
naked amongst the remains of the three men had caused
their bones to mingle. She would rub herself against
them and feel the weight of her warm body against their
cold fragments. Her bare foot would extend outwards to
the large round bone of a man’s nearest skull and
slowly rub itself against it. Her camera would capture
the image for her to enjoy later. Her toes would trace
the contours of the eye sockets and then the mouth,
brush against the teeth that remained in the upper row
of her victim.
She would caress the back of his skull with her heel
before kicking it between her thighs. She gasped at the
impact the large bone made with her exposed genitalia.
She would rub herself then before repeating the sweet
action over and over until she could take it no longer.
She would then drop the head bone firmly between her
warm thighs and spread her legs to begin pleasuring
herself.
She would aim short squirts of urine to splash over the
remains of the man’s head, cleaning him of dust. Gently
she would masturbate herself while the skull sat facing
her, silent and helpless to her manipulations and
desires. She fantasised then as she put her fingers
into action, thinking about what the young men whom
she’d shot would be thinking of her now.
She imagined them watching her as her fingers deftly
caressed her moist folds before retreating across her
naked belly to caress her full, smooth breasts. Her wet
fingertips pinching her dark, erect nipples as her
belly tensed and writhed with each wave of deep
passion.
Reaching out, she would grip the skull before raising
her legs. Slowly she would press the skull to her
shapely calves before sliding the skull gently down
behind her knees and thighs, down and down, until the
whiskers of her cunt could detect his bony presence.
Lying back, she would let her sex plant sweet kisses
all over and around the shiny trophy. The candlelight
would catch the moisture of both her urine and lust now
mingling across the bony surface seeping its way into
weathered cracks, assisting the further breakdown of
his remains.
Discarding the cunt-kissed man skull, she would then
reach for a make do cock. She loved the feel when she
pressed an upper leg bone to her vulva, squeezing it
between her thighs. How, during lust filled moments,
the ball-shaped end would slip effortlessly inside her
like an abnormal giant penis. She would begin by
lingering one end of the bone around her wet entrance,
allowing it to touch her intimate parts with extreme
subtly. Her vulva would respond even more at the
offering when she would allow her sphincter to caress a
finger bone.
She would close her eyes and feel the texture of the
lovely bones working their magic in and out of her
body, pusher her closer and closer to yet another
explosive orgasm with the treasures inside her cave.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 37