“I can handle that.” She took him at his word. Carrying Chance, she foraged for the special stones she sought, while she saw him squat by the boar’s head and blow out a visible cloud of vapor. The boar stopped breathing, while the sow struggled to her feet and fled the scene. He did have a remarkable nether talent.
She found several stones ranging from volcanic glass to chert, and cracked or chipped them until she had a crude blade. Meanwhile Micro fetched in several armloads of dry branches and twigs. He formed a small pyramid, then squatted, aiming his rear at it. What was he up to now?
A jet of flame shot from his anus, igniting the fire. Veil was so startled she dropped her stone knife. Those farts were truly magic!
She carved off a huge haunch. Micro came to help her, using a second crude knife she had made.
“You’re no helpless female,” he remarked.
She didn’t want to reveal the source of her expertise with knives, so demurred.
“Merely kitchen skill.”
They set the severed haunch on the fire. Soon the odor of roasting pig permeated the environment.
“We seem to make a good team,” Micro said.
“We do,” she agreed. In time they carved the roast and fed well. She nursed Chance, and set him in a comfortable declivity to nap.
“One thing about this meat,” Micro said. “It doesn’t supercharge us sexually.”
“That’s a relief,” she agreed. “I have nothing against sex, but I do prefer to indulge in it when I choose, rather than as an aphrodisiac forces the issue.”
He nodded. “Actually I like it any time. But that fruit made me hungry for more too soon.”
She saw his penis stirring. There was still some of that fruit in his system, as it was in hers. Despite recent events, she felt the urge. Nursing the baby sometimes had the effect.
“If you wish to do it now, I’m amenable.”
“But you just got—”
“Raped by a pig,” she repeated. “I did get somewhat uncomfortably stretched. Therefore I ask you to be gentle.”
He looked as if he was trying to demur, but his penis was thickening. Penises had little regard for finer instincts.
“If you’re sure. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Let’s do it this way,” she said. “You lie supine and I will mount you. That way I will be in control, and can avoid discomfort.”
“Great!” he agreed, and lay on his back on the ground, his member rising stiffly against his belly.
She straddled him, her thighs spreading outside his. She lifted his penis and fitted it carefully into her vagina as she lifted her body. She let herself down on him carefully. It was all right; the boar had stretched her, but Micro’s normal sized member did not. Her buttocks came to rest on his groin, the connection complete.
“Oops,” Micro said. “We’re facing each other.”
She had forgotten.
“Perhaps this is no longer for purely sexual relief.”
“I guess not,” he agreed. “I like you a lot.”
She remained there a moment, making sure. This was nice, but she needed more stimulation.
“If you wish to fondle my breasts, you may.”
“But they—you—”
“I nurse my baby,” she agreed. “Is that a turnoff?”
“No! I mean, your breasts must be tender.”
She smiled, knowing that he could not see the expression. She reached down and caught his two hands, lifting them to her breasts, which were very full.
“They are, so stroke rather than grab. Do you wish to kiss them?”
“I, uh—”
She leaned down until her breasts were near his face. But she would have had to disconnect below to put them at his face, so she didn’t. “Another time, perhaps.” He licked his lips. “Okay.” She sat back up, and he fondled, keeping it gentle. That helped, but still wasn’t enough to work her up.
“I will seek my own satisfaction,” she said. “You will achieve yours in the course of that, I think.”
“Sure. It’s great just being in you.”
She put her finger down and touched her clitoris, as she had when they had abated their drives the prior night. She titillated it, and felt desire spreading from it to her vagina. The clitoris was analogous to the man’s penis, the most ready source of sexual response. Men, and many women, thought that female orgasm derived mainly from the vagina, but that was not true. It accounted for the difficulty many women had achieving orgasm; they were depending on the wrong stimuli.
She worked herself up, then went into the throes of her climax. At the height of it she felt Micro’s member spurting; she had brought him off by her motions, rather than his thrusting. That had spared her most of the aggravation of the flesh caused by the pig. She was also satisfied to have erased that foul intrusion by overlaying it with a normal sexual event.
“You’re great!” Micro gasped. “You didn’t have to do it, but you did it for me.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed.
“I think I love you.”
Such a reaction was fairly common with men during sex.
“I care for you too,” she said. Then she lifted off him, and used some dry moss to mop herself clean.
“No, really,” he said. “You are my ideal woman.”
“But you haven’t seen my face.”
“I admit it will be a shock if you turn out to have a face like a crone. But you’re competent, and nice. I’m glad I came to rescue you, even if I’m not succeeding very well.”
She was touched.
“I selected you because you seemed to be the least objectionable of the candidates. But you, too, seem decent and competent.”
“Well, I want to be, for you.”
“But I do have my baby.”
“I’m getting used to that. I don’t have any experience as a father, but I’m willing to learn.”
That was a significant hurdle being overcome. There were others.
“Yet at such time as we return to our own culture, your amazing farts will not be of much use. I happen to be a woman of some means. That may deter you.”
“Well, I sure never planned to marry for money. But if that’s the price of you, maybe I can do good works, volunteer stuff, so as to have some self respect.”
“Perhaps you can,” she agreed.
She did like him, as she came to know him. They could surely work something out.
He fidgeted. “Um, could I—kiss you?” He was still feeling the emotion.
“You may.” She stepped into his arms. He kissed her, his lips finding hers within her shroud. Then he kept his face close and whispered in her ear. “I think we’re still be watched.”
“I agree,” she whispered back.
“We’re still entertainment. But how to we escape observation?”
For surely the swine, trained to rape, were part of it.
“We go somewhere they don’t expect.”
“I agree,” she said. Then they parted. They carved more of the roast pig. Veil fashioned a crude basket of branches and twigs, and Micro hefted it.
“I’ll carry this, and we’ll have food for several days,” he said. “But we’ll have to find water.”
“Maybe downhill,” she said. They walked downhill, and in due course came to a small stream. They drank thirstily; the water was sparkling clear.
“Let’s camp here for the night,” Micro said. He had something in mind? They foraged, and thus time fashioned a small lean-to of deadwood. They made another fire, ate more roast, performed natural functions downstream, and as darkness closed, lay in the lean-to, embracing for more sex. Actually it was a way to talk privately.
“I see the stream flowing away,” Micro whispered. “But I don’t see where it comes from. There must be a spring—or a cave.”