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Charlie bit my finger!! - Kluna Tik Dinner #17
Scrambling over the tumbled boulders of the riverside, Laura begins her bypass on foot of the cascades. She had thought this would be time consuming but relatively simple. However in only the few minutes since she began, some unexpected difficulties have developed. The least of her problems is that while drifting in the river she had become so used to the feeling of her air-inflated insides, she had forgotten about it. Once she began to walk, her body quickly reminded her whenever she bent or twisted in clambering over the large boulders. She found that while standing upright her inflated bowel didn't seem to be able to expel the large volume of air she'd blown into herself. Not anywhere nearly as easily as she had originally managed it while floating in the river on her back. The result now was a quite distracting and awkward bloated feeling, only lessened gradually each time she managed to produce another sizable fart. At least, she muses, one benefit of being alone in the jungle is feeling free to fart loudly and repeatedly without fear of social disgrace. She had expected to have some awkwardness finding a route along the jumbled, descending riverbank, that was reasonably clear of pointy vegetation. Mostly naked, with only her boots and gaiters for protection to her upper shins, and the backpack which she could use as a shield of sorts, she definitely did not want to encounter any kind of thorny tangles. Fortunately, it turns out that by staying near the water's course she can progress by a series of boulder climbs, interspersed with sections of pebbly flats and low weedy foliage that is mostly only up to her calves. The river clearly floods frequently enough to scour away any significant vegetation before it can grow large or dense here. Instead of having to battle with foliage, she finds her worst difficulty is a hindrance from her own body. For despite the scare of nearly being dragged into the grinding whitewater rapids, despite the discomfort of her extremely windy gut, despite the strangeness of naked rock climbing, and the need to concentrate on her movements lest she slip on the spray dampened and mossy rocks and injure herself which could mean her death, here , she is dismayed to find that her body maintains the exact same aching, powerful, attention stealing state of sexual arousal as she'd been marveling at during her drifting reminiscences of her gynie visit. On the river she had deliberately teased herself, astonished at the intensity of sensations from her vine-altered clitoris and breasts. Somehow her dreaming recollection of past events seemed much more vivid as well, whether due directly to the vine venom, or to her wildly boosted sexual feelings, she didn't know. Then, the intensely demanding need of her frustrated sex as she teased herself, had formed a perfect counterpoint to her reminiscences. Anticipation of the orgasm she would soon allow herself made the frustration more of a pleasure than drawback. Now those same feelings are proving seriously distracting. Her rigid, enlarged clit stands straight out, with its relatively unchanged clit hood stretched tightly around the thickened base of the almost penis-like organ. Only unlike a penis, the entire body of her organ is super sensitive to touch, achingly engorged, and pressed on either side by her equally engorged labia. The result is that merely walking is an autoerotic experience, and the greater movements of her thighs required for the frequent bouldering sequences, produce far more unwanted stimulation. Those sensations by themselves are constantly tugging her attention, and making the business of rock scrambling very difficult. Not only is her concentration off, but the muscles in her thighs and hip seem to be reacting on their own accord to the heat in her sex, no matter how hard she tries to control them. When she is carefully balanced, and reaching for a new foothold, it is extremely disconcerting to feel that slither of labia across tingling clit, and find her hips humping on their own, repeating that slick friction of swollen flesh. In some particular positions the effect is rapid and automatic, rather like the reflexive jerk of a leg when the kneecap tendon is tapped. With each jerk producing another sharp jolt of sensation, her pelvic muscles break into a repeating stutter she finds impossible to control other than by changing position to break the feedback loop. So far she has been lucky, and this hasn't happened while she is in a dangerous climbing situation. Even worse, in the same way that parts of her body are beginning to rebel, so is her mind. She is trying to concentrate on getting past this river barrier as quickly as possible - both to minimize lost time, and also so she can get back in the river and finish her uniquely enhanced recollection. A resolution made to prove to herself that she was still in control of her body, regardless of the bizarre and very obvious physical effects of the venom. Yet she hadn't quite finished that recollection, when the rapids forced a halt. She had been very close to the end, and very close to letting herself come. At that point, once she reached the safety of the riverbank, she still very, very badly needed that orgasm. Yet she determined to stick to her resolution; the importance of proving to herself that even with her amplified sexual needs, she can still control herself. To prove to herself that she won't become a compulsive, out of control masturbation addict. Admitting to herself that there was a small chance she might lose control for a while once she did allow an orgasm, just seemed prudent and realistic. Better to put it off till she had passed these rapids. She'd expected the intensely distracting arousal and desire to diminish as she walked. Yet it had not. As if her body's responses were on some kind of mechanical ratchet, there'd been no reduction at all. Even more worryingly, there seem to be other ways in which she is not herself. Such that she begins to suspect the venom may have affected her mind as well. For despite her best efforts to focus on the task at hand, her mind's thread keeps picking up that memory again, of the late afternoon drive home in the car with her father. Every time her sex thrusts it's demanding ache into her attention as some movement tickles it, there along with the sensations comes that memory again. The trouble is, the sensations she remembers feeling back then in the car are so similar to what she feels now, that the two experiences bind closely together, one inevitably summoning the other. She can't decide if she'd 'normally' be thinking like this. Sometimes she does think about sex a lot. But this seems so compulsive In her memory as now, she had been desperately in need of the relief of an orgasm, with her body wound up past all previous experience of neediness. Both then and now, she struggled to hold off having that orgasm, greatly fearing its consequences. In the car she had been sitting, flushed and short of breath, closely adjacent to her father. She fears, barely daring to admit it, that she is not herself, her mind is not her own. Back then, settling in the car, she had only moments before been experiencing the thrusting of a large dildo in her vagina, followed by the experience of penetration by a pulsating water jet. Sitting there in the Bentley's plush upholstery, her mind had been literally jammed with an overwhelming sense of the emptiness of her vagina, contrasted with the intensely full and deeply penetrated feelings just moments before. She had lain right back in the seat, head resting on the leather, looking blankly up at the car ceiling. Her hands lay limply forgotten to her sides on the seat, as she struggled to hold her body still despite the sense of a powerful and inevitable shape growing within the sexual storm clouds of her mind. A form, an electric potential, whirling around and around that unbearable, empty hollowness of her vagina. Usually in the past she has put that journey out of her mind, as too acutely humiliating to bear recalling. Her father must have understood it was something that she couldn't help, just a side effect of the doctor's examination that day, because he had not said anything to her then about it, nor ever mentioned it afterwards. But she knew he'd known. Could not very well have failed to know, considering the noises she'd made despite her best efforts to keep quiet. The doctor had warned her she might experience spontaneous orgasms, and he was absolutely right, she had. To her desperate shame, that whirling tension in her body had grown darker, and heavier, and reached down from her mind towards the emptiness between her legs. Before it touched she had known it was inevitable, known that she was about to shame herself in front of her father, and yet still the raging winds of need had blown away her will and control even before the orgasm storm center hit. She has always preferred not to think of what she did, but now, struggling to concentrate on traversing these jumbled boulders, she finds the memory tumbling unwanted into her mind. Against her will, and with the same crystal clarity and intense accompanying feelings she has been experiencing all this day. Sitting there, the scenery and evening traffic outside unnoticed, as she struggled to control her own body. To keep still, to sit as if everything was normal, even as her breath grew more ragged and halting, and her pounding pulse rushed so loudly in her ears she is sure her father must hear it too. She hoped to pretend to be merely tired, and not draw her father's attention to herself. So she didn't dare look at him directly. From the corner of her eye she could see that he too was leaning back, relaxed and apparently musing on some private thoughts as he gazed ahead, but slightly to her side. Enough that he must be able to see all of her clearly, should some action of hers distract him from his reverie. She wanted to hold still as a mouse. Yet she had been losing the battle, and known she was losing. The first lines of her control were overrun, and she found herself tensing, straining her muscles against a desire to squirm. Her hands gripped the leather edge of the seat, and clenched, tightly. She took a deep, sighing breath, as her thighs tensed against an urge to straighten and spread. Her feet moved restlessly, bare toes pushing through the pile of the car's thick carpets. Bare, aching, swollen, wet Under her, she can feel her dress growing damper, as slickness seeps between her thighs. Thin white dress, thin white dress She has to tense her rear and thighs, drawing them closer together. But that is worse, her aching clitoris flares at the pressure, and her legs want to fly apart What was it the doctor said? The words repeat in her mind. She'd turned her head to the side, away from her father, not wanting to see him recognize what was happening, as that dark whirling cyclone of tension inside her mind had reached down, down Between her legs, the aching of her clitoris, the unbearable emptiness of her vagina had reached upwards. Contacting, merging, the twin roaring forces had blasted away the last of her willpower, and her body had taken over. In that first moment her legs spread wide, then closed tight, then opened again of their own will. Her hips had lifted high off the seat, her body arched between her feet and her shoulders pressed hard into the seat back. This time her exhalation came out as a loud, shaming moan, unmistakable. Her sex, her vagina, felt sooooo empty. Her right hand clenched into a fist, wishing all on its own that it still held the base of that dildo. By the river, Laura is crossing another bank of river-worn pebbles. She shudders to a halt, stricken by the intensity of the sensations of her own body. So empty, so empty She practically doubles over, hands gripping her knees tightly, as she struggles to disengage her mind from the feelings in her sex.
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