Legends of Belariath

Pipistrelle

Sithian Lust

Ahh. The sunshine felt so good and warm. The young man lay sprawled out on the beach, its only occupant at this time of the afternoon. He'd been there all day, from just after dawn until now. When the tide went out in the morning, it was the perfect time to catch the little fingerling fish that danced on the seashore, laying their eggs before they died. He'd gotten a basket full of them, and lain them out on a flat rock to dry in the sun. It would take several hours, perfect time to swim in the ocean, play in the sand, and watch the seagulls overhead. He'd even shared a few of the fingerlings with them, having plenty to spare. Now, shirtless and flopped down on the sand, he felt his thoughts drifting, and eventually fell asleep.

Rolling thunder and a bright flash of light jerked him from his nap, and he sat up abruptly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. A storm was rolling in from off shore, and fast, too. The tide was coming in rapidly, so much so that it was already washing sand out from under his calves. He got to his feet and made a mad dash for the rock where his precious dried fish were threatening to be sucked back into the sea. He swept all that he could back into the basket. His shirt was gone, and he could see it floating just a few feet out in the water. Getting it though, was impossible. Just a bit off shore, the beach plunged over an underwater cliff, and if that weren't enough of a deterrent, the increasing size and frequency of the waves was. He'd be sucked under if he tried now. He'd better get off the beach, and soon, before this storm pummeled the small span of sandy shore. As soon as he turned his back on the sea, the clouds opened and began to empty themselves, rain coming down in stinging sheets.

Great. He'd have to make a climb up the rocks to get back to the path leading home, and he doubted very seriously he’d be able to see well enough, let alone navigate the slippery terrain. His only option was to seek shelter. He knew of a cave just on the other side of one of the rock walls, but he'd have to wade to it now, a danger in and of itself. He didn't have much choice though, and set off.

The water was cold when he went jogging out into it, basket balanced on one hip, and it took his breath away momentarily. It wasn't far to wade, but he stumbled as the tide sucked the sand out from under his feet. He was soaked to the bone already and starting to shiver. His other hand had to feel along the rocky wall next to him, both for balance and to help keep his way. When it started to curve inward again, he breathed a sigh of relief. He only hoped there was some dry driftwood in the cave to make a fire from. He wasn't looking forward to shivering all night. Gradually, he found the cave's entrance, but to his chagrin, the water had already started flowing into it. It was dark, and he had to drop to his hands and knees and crawl forward, dragging the now floating basket alongside him.

The cave's floor eventually began to curve upward, and he emerged on higher ground. He'd keep going just a little more, he thought, to make sure he didn't get flooded in the night. Lichens that grew on the rocks gave a soft blue glow now, and he could make out just a few features. He saw that he was in a fairly small area of the cavern, but that the floor was flat. Lo and behold, driftwood that had washed into the cave some time ago was scattered about. He abandoned his basket of fingerlings and set about gathering it up. Before too long he had enough to at least try and get a fire going; hopefully the wood was dry enough. He layered some dry moss below and on top of the pile, and gave the old rubbing two sticks together a try. Smoke started to rise, and within a few moments, the moss caught and began to smolder.

He blew on the budding flames until they caught better. The smaller sticks and chips of wood caught. He was certainly lucky in that regard. Give it another ten minutes or so, and he might just have a respectable fire. His pants were soaked, and so he shed them unabashedly. Nothing was here to see him anyhow. Laying them flat on the cave floor, he sat indian-style and slowly fed the fire with more moss and twigs. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad tonight. He'd made it through worse before.

The flames grew into a steady fire. The driftwood was dry, catching easily, but dense enough to burn slowly. Now that he wasn't in danger of hypothermia, he could look around a little better. It was a small room, with the usual cave formations and lichens, nothing too special. A darker shadow off to his right caught his attention though. It looked like the cave went further back that where he was at the moment. He wasn't yet sleepy, and in fact was feeling a bit invigorated. Maybe he could make a torch and do some exploring? There was plenty of moss around, and if he wrapped it densely enough, it would give him light for a good bit of time. Finding a decent sized, relatively straight length of wood, he began layering the moss over the end of it, balling and wadding it up until it made a good-sized wad at the end. He held it to the flames and lit it. It burned fairly dimly, but enough to let him see. Standing, he set off for the tunnel in the wall.

The ceiling was high enough for him to stand straight, and the tunnel seemed to continue pretty far. He was about to turn around, figuring that it didn't lead anywhere, when he became aware that the glow he was seeing around him wasn't from his torch. Light was coming from down the tunnel. Curious, young, and probably not all that bright, he kept moving towards it.

The tunnel ended, spilling out into a vast cavernous room. The cave walls literally glowed, a nice golden hue. It was also warm in here, better even than the fire. He could hear the sound of running water, and at the far end of the room, he saw a fall that crashed down into an underground lake. Amazing! He walked, head craned back, staring up at the vaulted ceiling and wondering where the glow came from. When he reached the edge of the lake, he knelt down, scooping up the water. It was cool and tasted of iron and other minerals, but it was still quite good and refreshing. He leaned forward and simply lapped the water up, like a dog. That was when he heard it. Singing. A feminine voice echoed around the cavern. The young man's head jerked up, and he shook it, trying to clear away what he thought was an hallucination. The voice continued to sing.

It was lovely, a drawing, haunting melody. He found himself sighing contentedly as he listened, and swaying with the rhythm. Motion at the waterfall broke his reverie though, and he darted back, taking cover behind a rock formation. What he saw was unlike anything he'd ever laid eyes on. A woman emerged from the cascade of water, nude, apparently, though her hair covered her breasts. She was exquisite to his young eyes. Her head fell back, as did her hair as she dipped it back into the water. Slim shoulders and full, large breasts lead the way down to a narrow waist. The flare of her hips was hidden below the waterline. The young man felt a stirring in his groin, and his mouth went dry with longing. It didn't occur to him to wonder what a woman like this was doing in a cave, of all places, such was his rapture with her. He watched her, feeling shameful for being voyeuristic, but at the same time unable to tear his eyes away from her. His hand went absently between his legs, and he discovered that he was fully hard, just from the sight and sound of her.

She was far enough away that he knew she wouldn't be able to see him. If he kept quiet, her singing would drown out any noise he made too. He put the torch down, noticing that it had burnt itself out, but not caring. Both hands wrapped around his shaft, and he began stroking it as he watched the woman bathe. His eyes rolled back in his head, despite the fact that he tried to keep them on her. He must have moaned, or made a noise, or something, because she stopped singing. He paused, mid pump into his hands, and noticed she was looking directly at where he was hidden. Damn! He couldn't move, or she really would see him. The woman began to draw closer, wading throught he lake. He knew she'd seen him. “It would be a pity to waste that...” The voice was hers, directed at him. At first he was confused, but when he looked down and saw his swollen member in his hands, he blushed profusely. “It's alright, my sweet boy. Don't be ashamed.” Her voice had the strangest accent to it, each 's' drawn out, like a lisp.

She kept moving closer, hands trailed out in the water. His cock literally ached now, and it began to throb, begging for release. Despite himself, he began to stimulate it again. The woman canted her head to one side, just watching him. It drove him into a near frenzy. He wanted to bury himself in her over and over again. Was she some sort of siren? He felt his climax swiftly approaching and began to grunt. His eyes met hers, hazel on green, and then his cock became impossibly rigid and engorged. His balls clenched and contracted... and then everything went black.

He was asleep. He knew he was, yet he felt coherent. He could feel the cool cave floor beneath him, and the warmth of his fire beside him. Was he dreaming? He must have fallen asleep shortly after he built the fire. He sort of half woke, shifting and stirring a little, and then sleep took him again. This time, he did dream.

He dreamt of breasts, full and beautiful, pressed up against his face. In the dreem, he sucked on each one, and the nipples dribbled sweet milk into his mouth, which he drank greedily. He filled his hands with the perfect globes, kneading and sucking on firm nipples. He pushed his hips up, and found himself buried in warm wetness that closed tightly around him, milking him. It was the bst dream he'd ever had, even though the woman was faceless, and her body felt strange to him. He had the feeling that what was nestled above him had cool skin, and... scales? No matter, it was a dream, and a damn good one at that. Milk filled his mouth again, and he drank of it deeply, thrusting into his dream woman over and over until he came explosively. He cried out in his sleep, and his seed spilled forth onto his stomach. A tongue, unseen by him, lapped it up.

This dream blended into another, where he felt himself being sucked upon, manhood buried to the hilt in a mouth and throat that were warm and skilled. Hands reached and tangled in masses of soft hair. He felt the woman shift, and suddenly, pressed against his face, was her weight. The scent of her sex was strong and musky, and the taste... oh the taste was so good he could just devour her. His tongue found her entrance and probed it deeply before it moved onto her clit, lips closing around it and holding it in place while he lashed it with his tongue. Juices spilled out of her into his mouth, and he drank of her there too. His hips lurched upward, bucking wildly, the head of his cock slamming into the back of her throat as he came again. Then, as before, blackness took him.

He awoke for real, blinking. His fire had died down, and he sat up, moving to pull a few more pieces from the small pile he'd made. His stomach felt strange, and the hand he placed over it found it sticky and wet. Good dreams indeed, as he'd made a mess of himself. What he couldn't see though, was that it was not his seed his fingers made contact with. His groin ached. Somewhere, he heard a slithering noise. “Who's there?” he called, stupidly. “Your dream woman,” came the response. It was the same voice he'd heard at the lake! He hadn't been dreaming then, he was sure of it. He saw a flash of pale skin as she emerged, her torso lit by the fire, the rest of her in dark obscurity.

“Who... who are you?” He was a little frightened now, but those breasts called to him. She thrust them out at him, displaying them proudly, and his cock sprang to attention. “That's a good boy. You taste so sweet for a human male. I could drink you dry.” She drew closer, close enough for him to see the long coils of her lower half. “Don't be afraid. I am of the Sithian. We love young human males. So sweet, so willing, and so vigorous. You can go for hours...”

He swallowed hard as she came within arm's reach. His eyes roamed her body hungrily, and below her navel, he saw a slit in her scales. It parted enough so that he could clearly see her sex. His hips jutted forward, want overriding fear or any concern. “Do you wish to lay with me?” she asked, lips peeling back to reveal two long fangs. “Do you wish to, as you humans say, fuck me?” Gods, it was his wildest dreams, literally, come true. He couldn't speak, only nod as she pulled him into her arms. As though he were a clueless virgin, he started thrusting his hips at her blindly, trying to get inside her. He moaned, frustrated each time he missed. She pressed her breasts against him, lifting one of the large nipples to his lips.

He sucked at her again, taking in that delicious milk. Still trying in vain to bury himself in her, he whimpered. She grasped his cock with one hand though, and as she slowly pushed him onto his back, she guided him within her. He almost came right then and there, but for some reason, he couldn't just yet. Little did he know, it was the flow of milk that held his orgasm at bay. Still, he moaned around her nipple, clasped in his teeth, as the walls of her sex began to contract and massage him. “Mmmm... good boy, yes.” He filled her, blessed with a good ize for a young man of his age. Her coils wrapped around him, lifting him from the floor. His legs went around her, hips humping at a near frantic pace. The Sithian moaned as he did, her coils tightening around him. He felt her cum, her womanhood spasming around him, and it drove him over the edge. He emptied into her, feeling it spurt out around his cock and onto his balls, mixing with her fluids.

He cried out, a ragged sound, lips barely disengaging from their feeding on her breasts. He hadn't lasted for hours, as she'd said. He felt ashamed for this, and began to try and stammer out an apology. “Shhh. I have ways of keeping you hard for a very, very long time.” Something about that struck a chord in him, and he felt genuine fear. Her head darted forward, faster than he could react, and her lips chanted a spell in a language he did not understand. He felt faint and dizzy, but when the spell took hold, his manhood surged forward again, engorging painfully with blood. “Mmmm... that's better.”

It hurt, the sudden erection, but as her sex began to flex around him again, he couldn't stifle his moans. His cock plunged into her over and over again, and their moans meshed and blended. She had another orgasm, and then another. He, however, did not, and it began to be very, very painful. Still, the pleasure was so great. He was going into sensory overload, unable to release the throbbing of his manhood, and unable to muster the want to do so either. He just wanted to fuck this snake lady until they were bleeding.

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