NAKED HOLOCAUST                     PART  13

The light breeze from the tent opening is cooling the sweat of our resting bodies. I’m still panting from the exertion of our love making, as Yana gently brushes my hair with her fingers. Under my ear, the regular thud of her heartbeat is slowly coming back to a more peaceful rhythm. The smell of her skin is blocking off the rest of the world and for a few minutes, I actually forget we are not a romantic couple on an out-door holiday. For a second only….

We do travel in style these days:  we have good clothing and good sleeping bags and even inflatable mattresses, now that raiding the urban areas are no longer akin to a death-wish. I’m aware we could settle in any house, I mean really settling in a house, staying for good, and live from the supplies we’d find in the dilapidated city, and even pretend to have a normal life. But it is too early still. I have seen too many horrors over the past few years to allow us to fall for the trap of cheap complacency.

I know sighting of a giantess does not occur more than once or twice a month now. And already life is creeping back in our cities all across the country. Lights can be seen shining in the night, cars are actually circulating on the damaged highways, and refugees are now increasingly re-enforcing growing communities. Everywhere, basic shops are re-opening, which is a real comfort, as it means communication roads are re-opening and because if money comes back, civilisation is not to far away either. We are slowly but surely reclaiming our land.

But nope, I don’t go for the comfort zone yet. I have seen folks stuck in a farm last month. They had left the light on, a luxury they had deemed impossible for the past years, and which had today attracted our merry band of travellers. But not only us. We watched from afar, as a lovely-looking blond girl had sat down with her legs on either side of the large house, has removed the roof with a casual gesture of her hand, and had happily dined that night on the struggling bodies of these foolish people. The air was cool and clear, the screams of the doomed victims were well audible, as they ran from room to room while the girl slowly removed furniture, and walls, and floors. She had taken her own sweet time to feast on them, dropping them in her mouth from above, like a goddess enjoying a bunch of grapes, swallowing them one by one with obvious relish. Then, on a whim so to speak, she had lied down on the newly cultivated field behind the house. She had inserted the screaming survivors into herself, while wrecking one of them on a hardened nipple. Her moans had filled the entire valley like the howl of an alien dinosaur. Our latest recruit, David, who was lying near me in the dark, during our observation, had uttered the sad and disturbing remark that these poor people would be human fertilizer for their own field in the morning. I had slapped him hard on the top of the head, but of course, everyone knew this to be a correct assessment.

In other places, of course it is not necessarily the case, and probably won’t be for quite a while. I hear Latin America is still severely affected, a thousand of the giant girls are still trampling the mountains and jungles and cities of that continent. I do not know why it is so, possibly a lack in the supply of quantum explosives, or just the complex geography there.  Whatever. The fact remains the giantess population is still very active, very present, and does not yet seem to dwindle as fast as it could. Many wonder here if the “girls” will ever change hunting grounds and come and visit us any time soon.

The main problem is food of course. And while we watch the giantesses eat us, we ourselves are pretty close to starvation. The frozen foods from yore have long melted and rotten away in the vast fridges of the dead supermarkets. The tin cans have getting scarce and vicious battles are fought for the known stocks. Agriculture is starting again, but on a very small scale, and the soil it needs has been trampled into compacted ground by the huge feet of the women. Whatever is produced is for the moment still consumed locally, very locally.

The human race has been reduce by a good half, and it is a strange fact that while the giantesses are on the way out, the attrition rate among us is actually accelerating. Massive famines are still devastating all continents and only the return to a local working agriculture will solve the problem. Oddly enough, the giantesses have put an end to industrial food and culture, and are bringing back the much needed local crops so many countries had been deprived of by greedy corporations over the past century. But this may well come too late for most people.

We’re doing ok, we’re well organized, and know where to look. We’ve planted seeds in hard- to-reach places, and know when to go back for the harvest. Even without proper supervision, some of our “rotating” fields actually provide us with sustenance in the area. Hunting provide the proteins. With the thinning out of the giant crowd, I know the question of sedentary settlement will be brought up soon , even for our little group of skilled wanderers.

…………………………………………………………………………….

This girl is hungry and  she has decided Yana is an appetizing choice. There’s nothing I can do. I nearly faint while I watch Yana stabbing uselessly with her hunting knife at fingers twice her size. She does not scream. She just hacks and hacks and hacks away at the fingers that lift her off the ground, towards the awaiting belly of the huge woman.

Everything has happened so fast. The tremors were felt well in advance, as always, but there was something unusual in those. First, the magnitude of them was staggering, the mass it seemed to announce was tremendous. And more importantly the pace was wrong, Instead of the steady heart-beat-like thunder we’re well used to, what we heard suddenly was akin to a charge of a thousand herds of  stampeding rhinos. Fast and increasing. Wherever she came from from, she was running straight at us. I rushed out of the tent, yelling to my companions, who also emerged out of their shelters, their faces white and worried, turning their heads here and there. The pace was strong and quick. The top of the poplar tree near us was vibrating in unison with it, all birds already taking off.  I dragged a half naked Yana out of the tent and started to rush into the messy under-bush of the forest.

The shadow was upon us in an instant, the huge naked frame of the giant girl suddenly appearing over the tall trees, in a deafening din of cracked and exploding trunks, her legs infinite pillars in the sky, her enormous breasts bobbing in her quick run and nearly hiding the face so high above. Her feet, by comparison, were everywhere it seemed, like houses plunging from the sky to quash the world around us. To this enormous creature, the forest was a lush carpet. I had seen one or two like this. Really big. Now we were straight under her. Her eyes were fixed upon us, the vast smile the sure sign of her glee at having uncovered us. The fantastic mass of the body came down, like a rosy storm cloud, bringing into view the other forest of her bush and sex, hovering above the pine-trees.  The incredible sight had hardly registered in our minds  that already a vast hand was swooping down over the camp. I saw Allen being brushed aside and projected into a tree, as if it had been hit by a moving bus. A wooden hut collapsed at the slight brush of the girl little finger against it.
We had indeed no time at all and now we are running, away from a girl so large she probably sees us as bugs , more than as snacks.

Her fingers are so large and she cannot grab us easily. A shadow passes, a huge thigh flies over, and the sky vanishes, replaced by the rosy skin of an enormous body coming down to a stop ahead of us now. As the girls sits down to enjoy her catch, the massive ass squashes the forest in front of us. On either side of us, the huge pillars of the thighs and legs suddenly block the view, new-born mountains of flesh, arching over the hill side. The hill side itself is replaced by the lower abdomen of the girl, where a womanhood that could swallow a double-decker is now blocking our path. We turn back, running down hill. Having us cornered between her thighs, the girl is starting to pick us up. I watch Andy being caught by two huge fingers and lifted up. He cannot scream as his upper body and face are entirely engulfed in the grip of the massive pincer of flesh. I keep dragging Yana with me, in a desperate steeple chase over the fallen tree trunks.  Olivia screams somewhere behind us, and when I glance back I see the tip of a finger grinding her deep into the ground, her twitching legs protruding from the boulder of flesh. The giant woman, a very beautiful Latino girl, with large brown eyes, is cooing something in her strange language. It sounds as if she’s saying “Hush, hush” to the girl she’s crushing under her finger.

We’re running and falling and running.

 Right above us, the smiling face is making a mockery of our flight, as she follows our course through the trees. Alex and Vivien are caught together, pressed against one another as the fingers gather them eagerly.  But frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care at all. I run .
The sudden pull nearly dislocates my shoulder, and sends me flipping in the air. For a second I’m lifted up by Yana’s strong grip. She’s looking right at me , her long brown hair flowing down towards my face , as her legs as brought up in the air. The look in her eyes is killing me. She shouts my name once, before disappearing over the tree tops. I see the shadow of the vast hand disappearing from over my head. My blood has turned to cold syrup in my veins, as the horrible thought settles in my mind. I come to my senses, my reason overrun by my rage, and run back towards the human cliff I can see through the trees.

I can see the girl’s face better now, she’s young, full of freckles, and looks happy, as they always do. The girl is not looking at me; she’s looking at her cupped palm of her right hand. Into which Yana is being dropped, on top of many other folks from the group. Another desperate scream. I can’t see who the girl is picking but someone is starting the voyage to the luscious mouth high above. In a microsecond of self-disgust, I am actually relieved to hear a male voice screaming out….
Another male voice (I recognize who) pierces the valley’s stillness. Yet another…
I hear the cries and shouts of many others emerging from the near-closed hand of the giant girl. I am sickened with horror and frustration as I stumble through the forest last meters to reach the giantess body.  Yana. That can not be. We’ve been through too much already. It can’t end here. It just can’t…

The woman is no longer looking for other snacks. I can hear other people running away from this insanity, the cracking noises of branches and underbrush, receding in the distance. When I come across Lydia and Fred, running my way, they look at me  with uncomprehending faces, as I head screaming in the wrong direction. They must think I’m mad with panic. They don’t stop though, and I don’t either. I’m nearly in contact with the vast crotch of the woman, her womanhood a vast gash in a cliff of flesh that closes the canyon of her thighs and has obliterated the sky entirely . I’m about to reach her, a blind bug attacking the crotch of a woman,  when the whole mountain suddenly rises in the air. Trees are swaying around me, branches fall everywhere. The vast body is rising in the air, displacing air and a knee crushing the ground. The cathedral of flesh rises higher and higher, on the slowly stretching pillars of the legs. The shadow and sole of a foot travel above me, brushing the treetops, and the huge body starts moving away.  High above, I hear the shouts and screams of her captives.

In a few steps the giantess is already far away, her shadow lingering over the devastated fields around. I, like the ridiculous midget I am, am running after her, calling Yana’s name. Each of the girl‘s steps equals a hundred of mine. She walks away with the slow motion of a catastrophe, almost casually, cradling her precious cargo in her hand, and in a few steps she has walked past the next hill and disappeared.
I keep running, screaming Yana’s name at the top of my voice ….

I find her, sitting down in the meadows below the next hills. My heart is trying to part with me, shaking my chest as if to break free,  my sides are aching, and my legs are trembling from exertion. Far behind me the trail of destruction is clearly visible through the hills. It took me three hours to join her. I’m no marathon athlete, and the constant running has nearly killed me. But here she is at last. … I don’t even know what to do next. 

The girl is sitting absolutely immobile, her eyes fixed on the horizon, and not a single muscle twitches on her perfect and youthful face. She just sits there, her knees slightly bent, her long naked legs slightly outstretched. One hand is resting back , providing support for her upper body, and has sunk deep into the ground. Her other hand is half closed, resting in her lap. The glorious nakedness of her body is making her a very strange part of the rocky landscape.

I take out the tiny binoculars from my side pocket, and try and focus, my pant-up breathing messing with my targeting. I swear the fingers on that hand are still closed, as if holding something.  I start travelling down the hill, stumbling, running, and falling every now and then. The girl is not looking in my direction. The closer I get, the more she looks like a wondrous statue, perfect in her proportions, awe-inspiring in her latent power. Her belly is showing, naked and tanned and well toned. I feel a wave of despair at the thought Yana is probably buried in the digestive system of this incredible being. The giantess’ left foot is resting in the middle of a stream, that is now being diverted in a complex route across the fields before it resumes its flow a few hundred yards later.

I’m reaching the ground level and now the woman is a monument towering over the landscape, I cannot grasp her entire body in one glance anymore, and I have to look up to see the beautiful and peaceful profile up high. The mass of her hips has dug in the ground,  and her buttocks are surrounded by  the uneven  ridges of a new crater. The small orange trees here hardly reach up to her ankles. When I next stop and reach for the binoculars again, I have no doubt there are still people in the palm of her hand.

It is a known fact that the girls do not always feed on the spot. Many instances have shown them to wander and carry their victims over long distances. For those victims, the horror of being caught is then amplified by the journey they have to endure, in the warm grip that carries them on, swinging and brushing past their future  tomb of flesh. I lie in the grass now, straining my eyes in the binoculars to see if I can catch a glimpse of my girl in the dark space within the closed fingers. But if I see movements between the trunk-like fingers, it’s hard to say who it could be. For all I know, the girl has swallowed Yana just after I lost sight of her, beyond the hill.

I remain still for one hour or so, my legs still twitching from the cramps of the insane running. But my breathing has slowed down, and my mind is somewhat clearer. Nothing moves in the valley, as if the presence of the giant girl had brought all life to a stand-still. I stay there, staring at her, as immobile as she is. I wait.

She closes her eyes. And my heart misses a bit. This is it. Please , tell me this is it. For long minutes I observe the beautiful face, that has resumed its inhuman stillness. Yes. It’s happening. Ever since the start, the giantesses have been showing this strange tendency to fall asleep in the weirdest of places and poses, across buildings, leaned against a hillside, crouching , sitting, even at times, standing. She does not open her eyes now , as she silently reclines on her back, squashing the field beneath her. Her head comes to rest across the road that crosses the valley. The whole reclining movement happened in slow motion, the legs stretching and burrowing through the broken river bed. The arm that holds the last “hostages” is coming to casually rest on her belly, and I wince , as I see the fingers tightening somewhat. She could easily squash who ever she’s carrying during her sleep and not even wake up.

Her long hair is splayed across the field, like a sudden oil spill. The vast movement is over in a few seconds and then, nothing. Around the huge lying form, a cloud of billowing dust is starting to settle down One leg is bent at the knees, a large triangle many stories high, that leaves me wondering about the bones that sustain such a mass. I hold my breath for the slightest motion of her eyes, her lips, her fingers. After a moment hesitation, I leave the tall grasses and walk across the fields to the petrified giantess.

I suppose this goes against the grain. Preys don’t walk to their predators, and a sick feeling has caught up in my guts as I near the enormous mass of the girl. There’s nowhere to hide now, and my very body is aching to take flight, to go away from this menace. But I keep going, swallowing my fear.

I approach her at an angle, and near me an enormous foot is standing, like a high status, showing a little toe the size of a man. Her big toe, is easily larger than a SUV.  The sole of that foot is a complex wall of skin, wrinkled at places, and dirty as one would get dirty walking year long without shoes, I suppose. The familiar smell of the giantess is now pervading the air, a strange mix of female skin and …something unidentifiable. The ball of her foot is ten meters above me, but I can clearly see the remnants of a recent squish. I walk quietly past the heel.

My heart is racing, now, when I start hearing whispers from somewhere above on the vast body. There are people there. Yana is there, I’m sure. She has to be. I walk along the wall of the girl’s calf. She has some hairs on her perfect tanned skin, the length of my fore-arm. I have never so long and so near a giant girl and the reasonable part in me is trying to distillate a reasonable and healthy panic in my overworked mind. Stepping carefully, I walk toward the thigh. It occurs to me I should have a plan now. I followed her, I found her, and so what ? The wall near me is a living being, for whom, I am no more but a morsel. How can deal with her?  How can I restrain her in any way? I pass near the more complex junction of her knee. I am so small I cannot even reach it. The colossal thigh is stretching now in front of me. I follow the length of the mountainous mass, craning my neck to see the top of it, far above. If she turns in her sleep, I’ll be no more than a stain on this sleek and flagrant surface.

The giantess hand is lying now in front of me, huge fingers resting  on the cold trampled field. There is just about enough space for me to pass between the limousine-sized thumb and the rounded wall of the buttock. I swear I can hear the ground still creaking and sinking under the weight of this ass.
I hear the whisper now, but in truth it is more a quiet and confused sobbing sound that comes from somewhere over on the plateau of the unseen belly. From where I stand, the small of her back has created a large tunnel, whose ceiling is rising and descending to the rhythm of the breathing.

How the hell am going to get up there, on her belly? In front of me, the cliff is showing long regular undulations , revealing the unbelievable size of each one of her ribs, before it comes to a close in the cul-de-sac of a hairy and frightening arm-pit. The slow motion that animates it, the heat of the giant body, everything now is reminding me this is no geographical place I am surveying, but an actual breathing person, who dominates my puny form in the most dangerous fashion. Walking between the girl’s arm and body, in this narrowing and living canyon, I feel trapped and so utterly and mortally insignificant. I turn round considering escalating the fingers near me, and, walking on the wrist and forearm, to the shoulder and then down her breast . But I hesitate. That seems to be awfully close the head of the girl, and I fear this route would lead me to walk on “sensitive“ territory.

I retreat back towards the hip of the woman, cursing myself, already knowing I will have to go to the other side and that the quickest way is by crawling under the small of her back. I drop down into the grass and head on all fours into under the threatening arch of flesh. It is pretty dark in there and I can’t help eyeing the ceiling above me, in fear it suddenly collapses and compacts me into the field. Mid-way under her, a sudden shift of the vast hips is lowering the ceiling, and I bite my lips in an effort to prevent a shout of surprise. The tunnel is now so low and flattened that I have to keep my head down, the long grass touching my face. For a few minutes the smell of grass and the ground takes precedence over the female flagrance of the girl. The overwhelming mass above me is sending my natural claustrophobia into overdrive , and I sweat like a pig, panting and swearing silently, my knees hurting on the rough ground. When I come to the other side, I am relieved to see the sky again.  The long thigh near me is rising up in the air, as large as an office building, stunning in its mass and simplicity, to the far apex of the bent knee, nearly 30 meters above my head.

But I’m not here to enjoy the view. On my left the long ramp of forearm is rising to the top of the waist. Sobbing is clearly audible, and I strain my ears to recognize any clue that I am indeed going to see Yana again somewhere on the body of the giant woman. The evening light is slowly dimming, and I know I better hurry before darkness makes everything problematic. The sleeping face of the giantess is not visible to me, except for the promontory of her nose, the large cheeks and the overflowing curtain  of cable-like hair (some of which are reaching even down to my position near her waist, and I have to be careful where I walk now)

I tentatively touch a patch of skin on the elbow. It's pretty rough, more like hide than skin, and that's good news, I hope. No reaction so far. I could get lucky. But how do I climb this?   I try applying my feet against the overhang of the rounded forearm, but if I feel that if my shoes are going to get purchase enough, the problem is to get a grip for my hands. As I stand near the round cliff, I am reminded of those low and yet tricky jutting rocks I used to tackle on the climbing –wall of the gym.  There’s nothing to it, I’m gonna have to hold on a hair and pull myself up. That’s her cue to wake up, I’m sure.

I grab of two hairs over my head. The strange touch of it is unsettling, and now I really feel like an invasive flea. I manage to twist the  hair around my wrist, though. Moment of truth. I pull myself up, my feet digging and slipping on the skin for a few seconds, before they find purchase in the slightly pliant surface. I grab the next hairs, pull again, , and again, and again. On all four at the base of the fore arm, I look anxiously towards the face of the sleeper, half expecting her to be looking at me with a glee-full smile. Nothing shows she has felt me in anyway. I take a moment to recover my breath.

I move like a burglar in a laser-filled room now, each tentative step a slow and careful decision, my mind focused on ascending the steep ramp of flesh. As I rise over the landscape, more and more of the girl is being revealed to me.  The enormous breasts lie ahead, round and lascivious domes of pale flesh (this girl is still showing tan lines, three years after her transformation) , with tits five times larger than my head, and now her long neck is coming in full view. The underside of her jaw is ominous to me, a path to violent death that so many of us have taken over the past few years. A few meters away, the close hand is resting on the vast expanse of the belly, a complex sculpture on  smooth silky surface. No one is talking in the cupped prison of the fingers, it seems. They are probably too shocked or too resigned to say anything. I’m nearly there, and the veins that run on the back of the hand look now like red and blue water pipes under my feet. No movement. Haven’t they seen the girl has fallen asleep? I slowly edge my way down the wrist and onto the warm surface of the belly. My feet hardly make a dent in the soft skin.

“Yana? Speak to me. Yana?” My whispered voice sounds harsh and rasp, my heart violently knocking in its cage, as tears already flood my eyes. She has to be there. After a few seconds , I hear it : “John??” I walk to the closed fingers. Through the opening between the hairy trunks, I see a hand reaching out. Her hand. I take it in mine, sticking my face in the interstice. I see her face, blanched and upset, her eyes red from the crying.
“John! What are you…? How did  you…?” Her voice breaks, as she takes my own hand between the enormous phalanges and bring it to her face. I feel the wet contact of her lips on my fingers and the violent relief is blurring my sight too. She’s alive. I hear a voice near her, a man’s voice. It’s David’s, the wise-cracker, our best hunter / tracker. After a few seconds , Yana let go my hand and tells me the news. They are the only two left. They are pressed against one another in the narrow hot prison of the closed fist, compressed by the soft flesh of the fingers and palm. She tells me David leg is broken like a twig and stuck between  two phalanges. Yana has been trying to break free but the opening is so tight, she wasn’t able to squeeze through. The low sobbing I hear is  David’s, of course and he sound s as if he’s in as much pain , as he is in despair. I can see the top of his head ,  pressed hard against Yana’s belly, the rest of his body caught in the vice of the fingers below. Damn. Damn. And I have no plan.

Letting go of Yana’s hand I walk around the complex boulder of the hand. Bending down I see a leg caught firmly at the root of two fingers. It does not bode well. The girl is really keeping them tight, even in her sleep. No wonder Yana has been unable to get out. The only exit is near the thumb, and it’s gonna be a tight one. Something happens. I look up. Beyond the twin hills of the breasts, the head has moved. A slow rocking motion animates it from right to left for a second, before the statuesque stillness reclaims it again. She’s probably dreaming (But who know what they do…). I stand still for a minute, not daring to twitch a muscle. Under me a low rumble is exploding in the depths of the belly. The girl is digesting our friends.  I drop on my knees and apply my ear on the smooth skin. Immediately a din of bowel noises, of deep, deep liquid circulation seem to rise up to me, revealing the vast hollowness and the complex world beneath. It is an echoing cavern down there, full of machines and liquid rushes, and I feel I know now what an oyster must experience for the few last minutes of its life inside a woman’s stomach. I cannot hear any voice below, no scream, no cries for help. The previous victims are surely dead and on their way into her lower intestine by now. What was I expecting, exactly? I scold myself with a sigh.

I climb onto the thumb, holding on to hairs, and positioning myself at the entrance of the well-like space between thumb and index. I whisper to Yana to give me her hand. And when she does, I grab her with all my strength, dragging her towards me. The hole is pretty tight. I press against the fatty flesh that makes up the opening, but to us it could just as well be made of stone. David is whimpering somewhere down in the hole, as Yana’s body is lifting him as well, causing more pain to his broken leg. I can see the top of his head, between Yana’s thighs now. I keep going. Yana ‘s head is through, as is part of her shoulders. Her face is grim and she’s whimpering also under the stress. I pull with all my strength, squeezing her out of the fleshy hole inch by inch. I get to grab her now under her armpits, feeling her breath against my face. I kiss her in the neck and then pull hard, and then harder. She’s nearly out. We strained together to pass her hips through…

It’s done, Yana falls down at last in my arms, nearly toppling me down the promontory of the thumb. One second later, her lips have latched onto mine and I feel she’s giving me my very life back. I help her go down to the belly, and I return to the rosy cave of the closed hand. David is trying to lift himself up. But he can hardly move. I can’t see much, but it is clear his leg is utterly pinned down there. Talking to him in a quiet tone, I try to calm the panicking man. His eyes are looking are me, and I see what really frightens me: his face shows the look of a trapped animal and he’s about to loose it. I put a finger on my lips, and try to talk him back to lucidity, while I squeeze in the dark hole. Our hands are locked together now and I know I can’t mollycoddle him. I pull hard. He screams. Loud. Very loud. I feel a squeeze around my waist. A hand has grabbed me by the belt and is pulling me out. I panic and let go of the man’s hand. I definitely feel the grip is tightening around my waist, and watch in horror as the rays of light filtering through the fingers are shutting down one after the other. Yana is pulling me out. “Let go, David, let go!” I tell him. He does not. A cracking noise tells me his leg is being crushed further. David shouts and let go of my wrist. I scramble back with my hands on the complex ridges of the finger skin, and in a desperate pull, Yana gets me out a second before the hand turns into a close tight fist. The opening is gone. David is gone, too. But we can still hear him cry in pain.

I look up again, to see the head moving again. A strange whisper is exhaled from the far away lips of the giant girl, sending chills to my spine. When I rejoin Yana on the vast belly, we watch helplessly as the girl keeps tightening her fist in her sleep, as if dreaming away a fight. Inside the fist, the screams are intensifying.

We run across the belly, away from the horrible scene, stumble across the lush bush of the girl, at the base of her thigh. I prefer not to risk the long trip on the woman’s leg. We go for the shortest road : we use the curly hair of her bush to start descending the cliff of the girl’s crotch. I had never that close to a giantess, sure, but I had never thought I’d ever be so close to a giantess sex. As we start our descent, the image of Yana climbing down the labia of another woman is just mind-blowing. From the vast sex emanates such a definite smell that it arouses me, against all odds. The flesh near the giant vulva is hot and sweaty, and the flagrance is so strong it is getting heat. Yana’s face is a mask of disgust, and she hurries down, her graceful gripping the pubic hairs with reluctance. I keep looking up, fearing the nightmarish sight of large fingers appearing over the Venus mons, to catch us, or maybe just to scratch the little itching we must create. At the base of the rosy folds, the entrance of the vagina is well opened, wet and radiating the inner heat of the mucous cave. I am incredibly tempted to look into it, my senses overloaded with sex  signals, but  I dare not, for fear of seeing a body in the dark oozy recess. We turn round at last and jump the last two meters the ground.
I have never felt more insignificant than during these seconds it took to straighten ourselves, in the deep shadows under this massive ass, two fleas escaping a behemoth, surrounded by her flesh and permeated through our skin with her intimate smell.

And then we run like mad, first along the rosy wall of flesh of the thigh,  then  away from the leg. And as we run, I feel as if a hot poker is piercing my shoulder- blades, and my initial relief is turning again into panic.  I hold  Yana’s hand so tight, she has to stop me for a second and break free. Like me, she’s tossed between joy an panic, and we dare not say a word to one another. We’re hundreds of meters away when I hear a piercing scream behind us. I glance back, just in time to see the girl, her eyes still closed, casually bringing her hand to her mouth and opening wide. Her dark hair is glistening in the sunset rays. A dark little lump falls screaming between the lips. At the base of the neck, a short tightening takes place, as a broken David is swallowed alive and starts his journey to the deep insides of the sleepy girl. She obviously did not notice she was missing anyone. She just licks her fingers, and let her hand rest again on her belly, and then drifts back to whatever nightmares she dreams.

I look at Yana, tighten my grip on her hand again and we keep running….

tbc