"But, I want you, whenever you want me."
"You don't know how unusual that is. Most women want some coaxing, and if they're in the middle of doing something, most are not willing to be interrupted."
"The women I grew up with were always ready whenever a man gave her the signal. You gave me your signal, you kissed me and let me know you wanted me."
"Maybe I'll be sorry I said this, but you can refuse, you know." His forehead wrinkled with the effort of trying to explain. "I hope you don't think you have to be ready every time I am. You aren't living with the Clan any more."
"You don't understand," Ayla said, shaking her head, trying just as hard to make him understand. "I don't think I have to be ready. When you give me your signal, I am ready. Maybe it's because that's how women of the Clan always behaved. Maybe it's because you were the one who taught me how wonderful it is to share Pleasures. Maybe it's because I love you so much, but when you give me your signal, I don't think about it, I feel it inside. Your signal, your kiss that tells me you want me, makes me want you."
He was smiling again, with relief and pleasure. "You make me ready, too. Just looking at you." He bent his head to her, and she reached up to him, molding herself against him as he pressed her tight.
He restrained the impetuous eagerness he felt, though an extraneous feeling of pleasure that he could still feel so eager for her crossed his mind. Some women he'd tired of after a single experience, but with Ayla it always seemed new. He could feel her firm strong body against his, and her arms around his neck. He slid his hands forward and held the sides of her breasts as he bent farther to kiss the curve of her neck.
Ayla removed her arms from around his neck and began to untie her belt, dropping it and all the implements attached to it to the ground. Jondalar reached under her tunic, lifting it as he found the round shapes with the hard, upright nipples. He lifted the tunic farther, exposing a dark pink areola surrounding the raised and sensitive node. Feeling the warm fullness in his hand, he touched the nipple with his tongue, then took it in his mouth and pulled in.
Tingling strings of fire raced to the place deep within as a small moan of pleasure escaped her lips. She could hardly believe how ready she was. Like the dark red mammoth, she felt as though she had been waiting all day and could hardly wait another moment. A fleeting picture of the big russet bull, with his long, curved organ, flashed through her mind. Jondalar let go, and she took hold of the neck opening of her tunic and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion.
He caught his breath at seeing her, caressed her smooth skin, and reached for both full breasts. He fondled one hard nipple, squeezing and rubbing, while he suckled and pulled and nibbled on the other. Ayla felt delightful shocks of excitement, and she closed her eyes as she gave herself up to them. When he stopped the delicious caressing and nuzzling, she kept her eyes closed, and soon she felt herself being kissed. She opened her mouth to admit a gently exploring tongue. When she put her arms around his neck, she could feel the wrinkles of his leather tunic against her still sensitive nipples.
He moved his hands over the smooth skin of her back and felt the movement of her firm muscles. Her immediate response had added to his own ardor, and his hard, erect manhood strained against his clothing.
"Oh, woman!" he breathed. "How I want you."
"I am ready for you."
"Just let me get these off," he said. He unfastened his belt, then pulled his tunic up his back and over his head. Ayla saw the straining bulge, caressed it, and then began untying his drawstring, while he loosened hers. They both stepped out of their leggings and reached for each other, standing close in a long, slow, sensuous kiss. Jondalar quickly scanned the clearing, looking for a place, but Ayla dropped down to her hands and knees, then looked back up at him with a playful smile.
"Your fur may be yellow, and not light brown, but you are the one I choose," she said.
He smiled back and dropped down behind her. "And your hair isn't deep red, it's the color of ripe hay, but it holds something that is, something like a red flower with many petals. But I don't have a furry trunk to reach you. I'll have to use something else," he said.
He pushed her forward slightly, separated her cheeks to expose her moist, female opening, then bent down to taste her warm salt. He reached his tongue forward and found her hard nodule buried deep in her folds. She gasped and moved to give him easier access, while he prodded and nuzzled, then dipped deep into her inviting opening to taste and explore. He always loved to taste of her.
Ayla was moving on a wave of sensations, hardly aware of anything except the hot pulses of feeling coursing through her. She was more than usually sensitive, and every place he touched or kissed burned its way through her to the ultimate spot deep within that tingled with fire and yearning. She didn't hear her own breath coming faster, or the cries of pleasure she made, but Jondalar did.
He straightened up behind her, moved in closer, and found her deep well with his eager straining manhood. As he started penetrating, she rocked back, pushing herself on him until she took all of him in. He cried out at her unbelievably warm welcome, then, holding her hips, pulled back a ways. He reached around with his hand and found her small hard node of pleasure and stroked it as she pushed back in. His sensation nearly found its peak. He pulled back once more and, sensing her readiness, stroked faster and harder, as he penetrated fully. She cried out her release, and his own voice cried out with hers.
Ayla was lying stretched out, face down in the grass, the pleasant weight of Jondalar on top of her, and felt his breath on the left side of her back. She opened her eyes and, without any desire to move, watched an ant crawling on the ground around a single stem. She felt the man stir and then roll over, keeping his arm around her waist.
"Jondalar, you are an unbelievable man. Do you have any idea how remarkable you are?" Ayla said.
"Haven't I heard those words before? Seems to me I said them to you," he said.
"But they're true for you. How do you know me so well? I get lost inside my own self, just feeling what you do to me."
"I think you were ready."
"That's true. It's always wonderful, but this time, I don't know. Maybe it was the mammoths. I've been thinking about that pretty red mammoth, and her wonderful big bull – and you – all day."
"Well, maybe we'll have to play at being mammoths again," he said, with a big smile, as he rolled over on his back.
Ayla sat up. "All right, but right now I'm going to go play in the river before it gets dark" – she bent down and kissed him and tasted herself on him – "after I check on the food."
She ran to the fireplace, turned the bison roast again, took out the cooking stones and added a couple more from the dying fire that were still hot, put a few pieces of wood in the flames, and ran toward the river. It was cold when she splashed in, but she didn't mind. She was used to cold water. Jondalar soon joined her, carrying a large, soft buckskin hide. He put it down and entered more carefully, finally taking a deep breath and plunging in. He came up pushing his hair out of his eyes.
"That's cold!" he said.
She came up beside him and, with a mischievous smile, splashed him. He splashed her back, and a noisy water fight ensued. With one last splash, Ayla bounded out of the water, grabbed the soft hide, and began to dry herself. She handed it to Jondalar when he emerged from the river, then hurried back to the campsite and quickly dressed. She was ladling the soup into their personal bowls as Jondalar walked up from the river.
5