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“Haaa…”
The moss caressed the side of Lan Yan’s face as she exhaled, a long and slow breath that drew the tension out of her. It cushioned her knees that bore her weight, lightly tickling the back of her feet, ever so slightly brushing against her nipples. The smell of stone and earth filled her lungs when she breathed in again, cool and rich, her hand reaching back under her to wander between her legs. Her body prickled as she ran her fingers along her outer lips, simply feeling herself, her skin beneath her fingers, warm and soft.
“Mmm…” she murmured as she closed her eyes, letting the sensation lull her guard down. Even though the need pulsed inside her, strong enough to disrupt her focus as she wove, she took her time, feeling it build as she shifted to use her other hand. There was no sound other than the brook bubbling out of the cave nearby, as she reached as far back as she could and gently tugged her folds apart, teasing out a seep of fluid that coated her exposed vagina. That was stretching her as far as she could go, though, so with a low moan she released her folds and let her hand fall to where they initially parted, touching them delicately.
No need to rush. That was what made this so perfect in the first place.
There was refuge high in the mountains, where the air was crisp and clear, with little else for company besides the clouds and the birds that darted among them. Here, she could overlook the whole, verdant expanse of Chenyu Vale when the weather permitted, admiring the world below, undisturbed. Unreachable.
She gasped as she allowed her fingertips to brush against her clit. A pleasant warmth spread through her, dispelling the cold that had crept in without her clothes to protect her. She rubbed her folds back and forth with two fingers, barely enough pressure to stimulate her, simply taking in the broad sensation of being touched. She grew wetter, could feel it seeping out into her cleft, causing folds to start gliding past each other. Now she pressed more firmly, little peaks of pleasure pulsing out from her clit under layers of skin and flesh as her fingers passed above. She clenched and released, clenched and released, letting a little bit of tension build and then dissipate, and more fluid came out, cold and warm and full.
“Nghn…” she groaned as she gave in to her need and lowered herself, knees spreading apart, stretching her folds open. “Ah!” Her back arched upwards reflexively as her fingers slipped across her clit, no longer hidden. She slowed, dipping her fingers between her folds, sliding them up and down, as her back gradually relaxed. She didn’t strain to press her stomach to the ground, but it felt good leaving herself exposed. She shifted slightly, shivering as her nipples dragged against the soft moss. Here, her world was gentle, quiet, secluded, where she could bare herself completely and the ground simply caressed her, held her as she played with herself, fingers dragging slowly but lightly across the top of her clit.
It was her paradise. She had returned here many times over many years, striding weightlessly among the clouds, her own little domain over which she reigned. But, it would be nice sometimes to have someone here with her, a secret hideout to share. Someone to keep her company when she got lonely and her fingers grew sore, someone steady to lean against as she wove, someone who could make her laugh and fill her heart with warmth when the wind grew chilly, someone to build something with together, shared memories, shared places, shared secrets.
All she could do was squeeze and feel her walls moisten even more as she pressed slightly harder on her clit. It felt so good when she could stick her fingers in, but it would always make such a mess. Even now it felt like she was leaking something out of her. Her cheeks burned. She shouldn’t wash herself off, it felt wrong somehow, to let her dirty fluids fall away into the ground she walked on. It just…wasn’t right.
If there was someone with her here though, he could do it, pump his fingers into her, her rear lifted into the air, make her writhe and cry and feel so, so good. When he was done she could lick herself off of him to clean up, and maybe he would make her use her mouth on him too, licking up and down till he lost patience and pushed himself into her, warm and thick, filling her mouth with his flesh and his love and his seed that she would take every drop of down her throat so they would not dirty the ground.
Lan Yan bit her lip, eyes screwed shut. Her need had swelled, her fingers involuntarily reaching up, straining for her vagina, and she wanted to flip over so badly, pull her legs up and plunge her fingers into herself. But she couldn’t possibly clean her fingers off herself, it was embarrassing, it was uncomfortable, it was gross.
It would be different if he was here for her, though. He would tell her that it wasn’t gross, that she ought to take responsibility for the mess she’d made, that it was endearing how it showed her neediness. He would kiss away her shame, he would keep her secret hidden, he would take her humiliation and reshape it with his hands into something wonderful, something warm and yet intense and exhilarating, like diving off the mountainside into the deep pools below, and she would open her mouth and let him stick his dirtied fingers in and she would struggle to swallow as her tongue darted between them cleaning them off and she sucked every last drop of herself off him.
She had given in now, given up and given in to herself, her fingers darting frantically to and fro over her clit. She was so wet, it made the whole area between her legs cold when a draft brushed past her from the outside. She didn’t have to pleasure herself like this, didn’t have to expose herself to the outside and the currents of air that wafted in, didn’t have to lie facedown and struggle to reach her hole. It wasn’t comfortable, lying asymmetrically with her arm and wrist twisted in unnatural angles. But it let her hide her face in the earth, let her pretend that it was ready to swallow her up at any moment should she want to crawl into its embrace and disappear.
And if he were here, he would kiss her softly when she grew needy, slowly pull the clothes off of her as if unwrapping a gift, and run his hand across her appreciatively when she prostrated herself in front of him, leaving her to his mercy. He could do anything he’d like to her, kick her, beat her, call her all manner of despicable things, take and use her for his own pleasure and leave, leaving her bare and cold and alone, but he wouldn’t, he would listen to her pleas and satisfy her every need, take the way she presented herself to him as the compliment it was. He would fill her insides with his manhood, so large yet so delicate, so firm yet so gentle, plow her relentlessly yet tenderly into the ground till he would have to pick the moss out of her hair afterward.
She whined, harshly rubbing her clit with tensed fingers as if she was trying to spark a flame. The smooth skin covering it was starting to grow numb from the constant friction, the slick on her fingers drying under the frantic motion. Tides of pleasure coursed through her, agitating her senses like a stream falling into a pond. Her thighs dimly threatened to collapse forward, so she pushed herself back so they lined up with her knees again, pressing down and out. Her vulva must have been so stretched out now, every fold pulled back, every bit of flesh exposed, her fluids seeping out of her. She didn’t care how gross it was anymore, she reached up yet again and dipped her finger into the wetness, dragging it down the center till it touched her clit again.
“Nnngh!” Her clit. She’d settle for that. Even if he teased her, taunted her, slid his hands under her stomach to fondle her breasts, roll her nipples between his fingers, brushed his tip against her entrance, clamped onto her hips as if he was about to slam into her, made her sway and beg and roll her rear with all her dignity and self-respect shattered and broken on the ground, she’d take simply being rubbed till her climax, his body pressed down over hers, his hand wrapped around her to touch her, hot breath on her ear, so close to filling her, it was good enough, it would be good enough, she would take it.
“Please,” she choked out, nose growing stuffy, her free hand gripping onto a mass of her hair so tightly her joints would ache once she let go. The tip of her finger was attacking the underside of her clit, where her hood could not cover, and it was intense, so intense yet nothing compared to when she curled her fingers inside herself just right. But she couldn’t contaminate this sanctuary, not any more than she already had, at least she could make it so there wouldn’t be a trace when she left, so she dared only to touch her clit, dared only to give herself the sharp, empty pleasure that shot through her. This low, this close to the ground, she could almost feel like it wasn’t herself doing it.
He'd touch her and pound her and kiss her tears from her cheeks and scrape every last drop of her slimy white shame off her folds and into her mouth and she would take all of it and his release too inside herself in her deepest core, and no one and nothing, not even the earth below or the gods above, would know of the secret within.
Her senses came to a boil, every inch of her body turned blindingly hot, goosebumps and sweat dancing all across her skin. The hair in her hand turned into a solid rod of metal under her grip, knuckles as white as jade. Lan Yan sobbed into the earth as her hips bucked and her body trembled, until her strength deserted her and her hand fell onto the ground.
She laid like this, stewing in heat and shame, letting the soft breeze yank her back to the real world and the ache across her body. When her vision finally cleared, she allowed herself to roll over, her red knees in the air, dirty hands hovering above her chest. She sucked herself off of them, and when she had caught her breath again got to her feet. It was a miracle that she had not slipped on the moss and went tumbling, but perhaps any spirits that watched over this place were blind to her impropriety and so preserved her every time she gave in her to her primal needs, that hideous, animalistic thing, like a voice without sound to which she could offer no defense.
Her heart did not listen to her. It yearned for frivolous pursuits of love, for more than foxes and squirrels and birds to be her companions. It did not care that no one in their right mind would want such a person, it simply dreamed up someone who did, someone who knew her inside and out, and twisted every fiber of her being in the want for this nonexistent confidant. So only here did she allow herself to indulge in that thought, away from the world which would see her thoughts and dreams and desires and break them upon the wheel of reality, of good sense. At least, if the spirits were offended, she wouldn’t know their faces.
She splashed her face with water, her shredded reflection dizzyingly dancing on the surface of the brook. She hadn’t been that wet after all, there was nothing she needed to purge off her legs. All she needed to do was put her clothes back on as if she had just gotten out of bed and remember to promptly wash the white strain off her underpants when she returned home.
Soon, the rattan strips in her hands had consumed her attention again, and her heart had quieted as yet another bird took from between the deft movements of her fingers.