Lago

Lago

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Summary

A young man finds himself falling in love all over again in an ancient lake-bed formation where history and future converge and create passion.

Summary

A young man finds himself falling in love all over again in an ancient lake-bed formation where history and future converge and create passion.

Content

Submitted: August 29, 2017

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: August 29, 2017

A A A

A A A


Marisia breathed and he could hear her. “Marisia?” he called out in the damp darkness, and his voice echoed in a myriad of smaller passageways and caverns. “Marisia?” he said again. She flitted by, ragged dress hem trailing behind her, flashing in the sunlight which fell through the opening in the limestone rock overhead. She was like a phantom. “Una fantasma en el sombre!” She cried and cackled wildly. “You know I don’t understand—“ “Me siguientes…” “Marisia…” “You should hear the things I say to you when we’re making love. Maybe you should learn…” The sandy soil shifted beneath his feet as he trekked around the cavern. “Marisia…I am gonna bend you over backwards and do things to you…” Her shape teased him again as she ran by. She vanished into the shadow. She was nimble, agile from having grown up in the equatorial village that she called home. She had run through the forests and amongst the roots of trees since she was old enough to. All he’d ever had was city sidewalks and lampposts to dodge. That, and other people. She feigned being obstinate in this moment—she teased him this way. She knew that it made him frustrated, made him hunger for her even more. Built up his desire to have her by dancing just beyond his reach. “You know I’m sluggish in this heat…” But it wasn’t really that hot. The dampness of the limestone seeping water from the perennial rains, combined with the breezes to create a natural evaporative air conditioner in the passageway. It was cool. The sweat on his back and chest had dried. “Alright, alright…” she said, emerging out of the shadows. She approached him and he could see the birthmark on her right breast—just above her nipple. The hem of her neckline was worn, stretched. She was wearing her swim-dress. Beneath, though, she wore nothing at all. He thought of the cool air on her inner thighs, wafting up between her legs. “Not a thing to worry about…” she said and sauntered over. “Not a thing…” she repeated, “But we’re not there, yet…” He refrained from lifting up the hem of her swim-dress—that’s all it’d take to give him access to all those places of pleasure. There was something in her eyes that promised those things later. For now, he’d just wait. He encircled her waist, drew her close and kissed her briefly as she reached up and tousled her hair. “Okay,” she told him, “Let’s go…”

Shadows clung like spirits disenfranchised from the modern world beyond the bluffs which surrounded this little hollow. Spirits driven away by horn-noise, the rumble of diesel engines, the whir of electric whats-its and the stampeding of populous folks who were oblivious to the ancestral creeds and religions of the long ago. Ghosts cannot exist where they are not welcome. There are no more people to tell stories. No more folks who orate the histories of the Lost. There was a clumped mass on the ceiling of one of the larger cavern chambers that they passed into and he recognized this as a nesting of bats. Slumbering away until nightfall permitted their nocturnal forays of predation. They eased along the edge, avoiding the guano that had built up in layers in the center of the chamber. It smelled like animal musk and excrement. He was glad when they passed back into the passageway again and fresh air sighed down through the countless holes and openings eroded into the ceiling. The cave system itself was not so deep—the remnants of a limestone deposit that had once been submerged 60,000 years ago, eroded by a combination of water action and water chemistry. Now, it was just an oblong dome with a shallow covering of soil over the top. Some of the passageways still led down deeper into the ground—and there were some ancient lakes and ponds down below, too, left over from when the waters receded and dried up to leave the cavern system behind. It was no wonder that it seemed ghosts inhabited this place—it was so inconceivably ancient. That also added to the romanticism, of course, when one was aware of just how old this structure was. What kind of history it had, what nature had done to create it. What power and immense processes and indefatigable force had been coursing through this place. 6,000 centuries ago, a walk through here would have been impossible. But now, here they were. She led them down through the wending passageways, aisles of rock that alternately opened up and tapered to narrow walkways. He could feel the moisture, his skin was chilled from the cool air and there was a pounding in his chest and tightness in his throat that signaled the onset of sexual excitement. Not just sex for the sake of sex…but sex for the sake of her. He wanted her body. He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to hold her. No other would do for him. “You’ve made me fall in love with you hard, Marisia,” he said as they trod through the semi-darkness. “Only because you made me do it first…” she quipped.

They came out of the darkness and into an open area. This part of the cavern system had collapsed some time ago, leaving shattered remnants of flint-like limestone on the floor and opening up the roof to form a kind of coliseum-like structure. Shoulders of rock still rose up on either side and the east wall had been eroded sufficiently enough for them to see the waterfall with its small lake at its base—the only flowing water left from what was once a primordial salt-marsh and sea bed that spanned thousands of square miles. “Deeper down,” she said. And they passed from the Coliseum of Rock—as he had named it—and into the passageway again, where cool air hung in dense pockets about their ankles.

They left the realm of the daylight and birdsong, trading it for the hollow windsong of breezes in the passageways, like the drawing of breath in the throat of some impossibly large creature. “Just through here…” she said, and brought out a small flashlight from her knapsack. She gestured towards a fissure in the rock. As the cavern had settled, the fissure had widened enough so that a person could fit if they turned sideways. And Marisia, with her lithe body, took off her knapsack, tossed it through and, quick as a vapor, slipped in between the widened crack. He shook his head. Claustrophobia set in—it hadn’t bothered him before, walking through the passages. Even the notion that they could be hundreds of feet below ground didn’t bother him at this point. Up until now. But he clenched his teeth, clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Build up your machismo, manly-man, and squeeze that sexy ass of yours on through!” She shouted from the other side of the horizontal opening. He kicked at the sand, walked over and turned his body sideways. It was tight—the coarse rock scraped his nose, his shirt snagged on small jagged protrusions of limestone. This must be what it’s like to be eaten, chewed up, he thought morbidly. And then, he emerged in a chamber of blue light and sloshing sound. “Look…” she said, pointing. It was at this point he understood.

An expanse of water under-lit by light that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously stretched out for more than five hundred feet from the small pebble and sand spit of land that they were standing on. It looked artificial, almost, the pillars of eroded rock reminiscent of the Roman aquifers he’d read about and seen pictures of. But, this was natural, so far as he could tell. At least, he assumed so. “What do you think?” She asked him. He knelt down, boggled by the expanse. The sudden appearance of such an extravagant wonder in a place so dark was almost too much. “I think…” he said, “I think that it’s probably the largest underground lake in the south Americas for certain…” She nodded. “I think,” she began, “that you should peer down into the waters…” He crawled over to the edge of the perch on which they stood and swooned. It was the illusion of elevation that did it. The clarity of the water was such that it seemed he was looking down into a chasm hundreds of feet deep. He was taken aback by this trick of light and translucence. “Look out there…” she said and Marisia was suddenly near. Her hands were on his shoulders as she knelt beside him. She pointed. He looked to the area of the underground lake where she indicated. A massive albino fish moved solemnly with slow, powerful sweeps of its tail just below the water’s surface ten yards from where they stood. There was some scarring on its back, apparent even from where they were kneeling. It banked, rose up to the surface, breached briefly with its dorsal fins waving like banners of membranous flesh, then dove back under and made slow circles down into the shadows of a submarine pit. “Where’s the light coming from?” He asked her, still watching where the fish had vanished, hoping that it would reemerge so he could catch a glimpse of the monstrous body and the pale flesh. She shrugged, dipped her hand in the water. “Bacteria, maybe? Sunlight channeled through openings in the cave walls? I don’t know…All I know is…” She brought her cupped hand up with the water in her palm. “It tastes untouched. Unmolested. It’s not pure—it has a flavor. But it’s a good, healthy flavor. Like a light wine. The lightest of all wines…” She sipped. He leaned down, put his lips to the surface, shook his head to clear it of the vertigo that swept over him as he eyed three-hundred feet of unobscured emptiness below him. Then, he sucked at the water’s surface. She was right. In it was the dissolved minerals from the limestone walls. And as he sat upright, the heavenly liquid running down his chin, he turned to see Marisia’s navel inches from his face. The tuft of her pubic hair enticed him with her secret woman smell. “Now…” she whispered, twirling his hair between her fingers, drawing him into her. He allowed himself to be led. “Now, there are things we must take care of…” He glanced up, saw her peering down at him over her breasts. They looked shapely from this angle—his erect penis strained against the zipper of his shorts, and he found himself wanting to fondle every inch of her. But for now, her labia would have to do. And that, only with his tongue. She liked to be stroked with his hand and fingers only a little-Marisia preferred his cock.

He sampled her, parted her lips with the slightest of licks, an exploratory probing to gauge just how wet she was. And what a response it elicited from her—a gasp, a tightening grip on his hair, fingernails in his scalp and a shuddering as though the temperature in the cavern had dropped ten degrees. She was wet. Her swim-dress lay in a heap nearby—she’d been stealthy when she slipped out of it. Not so much as struggling or making a sound to alert him. What a surprise for me… he thought. He was obeisant to her every beckoning tug and pull, pausing in between licking her, swirling his tongue about her labia and across her clitoris, to suck at her inner thighs, to feel the heat of her lust building there between her legs. And when, at long last, she spread the blanket in her knapsack across the pebbly sand of their private little beach, he opened up the front of his shorts, unzipping them slowly, finding himself aroused even more at the delighted smile that touched her lips. “That’s what I want…” she said, squeezing her breasts together with her arms as she hugged her body and writhed on the blanket. The blanket folded beneath her naked ass, her lower ass-cheeks now glistening with her wetness. Pre-cum had made the tip of his cock slippery, and as he fondled himself, watching her eyes widen as she took it in, he felt his own wetness on his fingertips. She leaned up, eager, the fury of a woman who wanted to be fucked in her eyes. Marisia paused as she came up to meet him where he knelt before her, his own dick in his hand. It was as though she were reconsidering, batting back those urges before they took control of her. With the surety and the ease of someone well-accustomed to pleasing her man, she reached down and wrapped each finger around his girth, one by one, curling them until she gripped him tight. She squeezed, started her strokes out in an even, steady pace. She came nearer, shuffling her knees, pushing the tip of his cock against her stomach and rubbing his pre-cum all over her. He looked down, could see his member pulsing, could see her hand gripping him hard. He watched the foreskin sliding up and down, saw where her bare, browned skin was wet with him. Her fingernails—painted teal—caught the light from the lake and became almost ethereal. There was a dream-like quality about her hand-job—as though she were a wet-fantasy that he was having in a fit of midnight arousal. It was in the absolute privacy of this place, in its own power to mystify through its properties alone. Now, here she was, tits bouncing while she masturbated, her free hand reaching down, her face drawn into a wince, her lips curled back to reveal her teeth. Now the steady, even pace with which she stroked him increased and he imagined what she would look like with his sperm sprayed all across her naked body, dripping in globs of pearly ejaculate. He had to quickly push these images away, or else risk orgasming before he ever got to penetrate her. She leaned against him, the force of her jerking and tugging at him driving her chin into his shoulder. He reached down, pushed her hand away, eager to feel of her pussy, eager to feel of the masturbatory precursors to orgasm—that tightening of her walls, that change inside of her. He spun her around and she lost her grip on his cock. Now, he bent her at the waist and watched as she inverse-arched her back so that her hips spread wide and the size of her ass was accentuated. Her knees were in the sand and his cock was in her lips before she could so much as grunt or cry out for it. He slid in easily enough and as they coupled, he felt heat rising up from deep within her. Lusty heat that would burn but never consume. His pelvis slapped against the backs of her thighs, two bodies as one. He clawed at her back—and now she was bouncing her ass off of him as he drove into her. With every pull, she leaned forward. With every push of his cock deeper, she slid back onto him. Her breasts hung beneath her and jiggled with every impact, her black hair tumbling over her shoulders as she lowered her head and panted. He paused, bent down, bit her ass, grabbed hold of her hips right where the bend was on either side and pulled her onto him. He felt the swelling that went beyond his erection—that engorging and the stiffening of his cock that indicated his own impending orgasm. “Do it. Do it. Do it…” she chanted as he drove into her. And then, she said something unintelligible in Spanish, and that was all it took.

He emptied himself into her, felt thick spurts of hot ejaculate gush out around his still erect penis as he squirted. She sighed, satisfaction in her face as she turned her head to observe him pushing the last of his seed inside of her.  “Good boy…” she said to him, resting her upper body on her elbows, “Good…”

They lay together by the underground lake, arms enwrapped, the blanket spread. The calescence of the waters seemed to change as the hours wore on, so that he thought perhaps some trick of light illumined the lake. She had brought something to eat—two meat and vegetable-filled what’s-its that he’d never seen, wrapped in corn husks and baked over coals. They were good, and he was glad for her—glad for her being here. Glad for her company. Glad for her smile and her eyes and that dark, dark hair.

After some time, they made their way to the wakeful world where planes crossed the skies and primitive lakes were nothing but subterranean dreams half-remembered in the daytime.

“We’ll be back…” She told him, “We’ll keep this lake a secret…”

And they did. 


© Copyright 2018 Aurora M. Soleado. All rights reserved.

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