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Bucket of Love

Essemoh Teepee© 2010 - 2018

Monsters only fuck you in your nightmares, don’t they? Amanda tried to scream through her blocked throat as she felt something pushing between her thighs, trying to find a way into her; then it did. Pinned against the rocky cave wall, embedded in the creature’s substance like a starfish in aspic, she was unable to move her limbs; there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it.

Amanda felt it spreading her soft flesh; opening her up and worming its way into her wet warmth.

When another tendril found the second way into her she tried screaming again. As though in response the thing began to pulsate; its tendrils moving deeper inside her, doubly penetrating her. It was filling her completely; stretching her to her limits


Amanda quite enjoyed her own company; she didn’t want to be part of the endless chatter that the rest of her party seemed to need. She had wandered away from the rest of the University study group to explore the empty coastline on her own, accidentally stumbling across the small cave mouth. The low dark opening was hidden by rough undergrowth at the base of some crumbling cliffs. Her ankle had turned on some pebbles and she found herself lying on the ground looking into a dark hole. Her slight apprehension about entering the cave evaporated as soon as she popped her head inside and saw the exposed carvings. They had been covered in a carpet of old lichen and green algae, as thick as moss. It looked as though a chunk of vegetation had recently fallen off, exposing the rock beneath. The fallen mass was turning slimy and brown where it lay on the cave floor.

Twenty minutes of some gentle scraping with her trowel exposed images to human eyes for the first time in a very long time.

They were quite extraordinary works of naïve art; detailed and crudely erotic. Palaeolithic pornography was how she mentally headed the paper she was going to write about them for the University Anthropological magazine.

The carvings appeared to be in a sequence starting at bottom left and progressing in a coiling, serpentine ring to a single central image.

They were clear in execution and the anatomical detail was exceptional, considering the hard rock as a medium. She guessed that they depicted a fertility rite, some sort of Offering to the Gods of the ancient artists. She raised her camera thinking, I’ll write it up, with lots of illustrations. These should get the harpies back at the villa Ponte Rosso a little wet.


It was plunging into her so hard now that her breath was forced from her lungs in little explosions. Each violent thrusting inside her, butted hard against her inner core. The substance gagging her suddenly flowed away from her face and out of her throat like a thick gel. Her body was still imprisoned, unable to move in its viscid grip; but now it was swirling over every square centimetre of her skin. The creature was still inside her; fucking her but her breathing was easier. Now she could scream.


Amanda was a mature student with a women's group from the University; combining a sorority holiday with some local anthropology and archaeological research for their course. They were staying all together at a villa in a little town on part of the Mediterranean coast that has been occupied continuously since before the last ice age. The course leader had said on their first night, “Even though the area has been thoroughly explored, there’s still the odd novelty to be found if you look hard enough.”


The entity had changed; inside her it had become harder, more solid. It had a surface feel of the softest, chamois leather and it was neither cool nor hot. Amanda felt as though both the handle and the barrel of a baseball bat were being used to penetrate her at the same time. She could feel them moving against each other inside her and it hurt like the Devil. Her cries and pleading seemed to have no effect on its plunging, probing violations of her wide stretched and pinned body.

“Stop it, please.” Amanda gasped. Fuck it hurt! “Oh God, you’re hurting me, you bastard”.

Amanda was nearly incoherent from the violent thrusting shaking her whole body. “Why are you doing this?” She was begging now. “Please. Don't; not any harder, Oh Fuck!”

Amanda was no blushing virgin, when she had hit forty she had promised herself she would keep herself trim. She had stamina and was quite able to keep pace with her aerobics and Pilates group, many of whom were thirty five or less; but she had never felt anything affect her like this before. Whatever it was, it was everywhere inside her. She had never experienced the rippling, swelling, pulsing friction she felt deep within her. To her absolute disgust and horror, she could feel her body reacting. The sensation of the thing’s dual pulsating presence was beginning to feel good. Despite her struggles to escape Amanda was a little shocked to realise that she was beginning to be aroused, starting to enjoy being fucked by the thing.

Its undulating substance was translucent, marbled with threads of violet fire. Embedded beads of ruby iridescence flared in time with the pulsations she felt through her own body. Amanda groaned as the tempo of the creature’s penetrations changed yet again.


Amanda was no longer married but she had a son of seven years who was currently staying with her mother back home. She didn’t think of herself as a sexual adventurer but she had several virile male friends, a few were quite a little younger than her, all had been her lover at some time since her divorce. Many of them she still enjoyed when she was in the mood, but even at her most abandoned she never let them use anything on her other than their own bodies.

The sensations she was feeling made her think of Jacques, a friend who was particularly well endowed. Even his powerful, rigidly erect body could come only slightly close to what was moving inside her now.

The assault, when it came, had been a total shock but she had not been physically unprepared; she had been aroused, very wet and very ready.


The University party had arrived about five days ago and Amanda had not had the opportunity to be alone to have an orgasm since they had arrived. As a consequence she was as horny as hell when she had found the cave. Her mounting frustration combined with her imagination stimulated by the explicit carvings and the cool solitude of the cave had all contributed to her present predicament.

She had explored the small dry space, only barely big enough to stand up in. It would be crowded with more than six people. She had found it to be empty except for the carvings and a stagnant pool in the centre of the shingle floor.

It had been odd that the cave had not felt damp or humid. She had gone back to examine the carvings again and take more photographs.


Amanda rarely wore underwear and had slipped out of her crop top and khaki shorts to enjoy the natural air-conditioning of the rocky grotto after the heat outside. Her nudity had enhanced the silky sensuality she had felt looking at the images on the cave wall. Clearly recognisable male and female figures were depicted in all the varied positions of rutting sex. In some carvings, two and three males were doing one female. Several images of fellatio were faithfully rendered, lovingly incised into the hard stone.

Amanda caught sight of her reflection in the still water of the rock pool; she thought she didn't look half bad. Her roots had been done before leaving home and her hair was a pleasing honey streaked blonde in a bunch at the back which she undid to shake out, fluffing it with her hands. She postured and posed to examine the play of her long muscles. She liked the way the flowed and bunched under her tanned skin. One of her men friends once said when he was sweaty, sated and limp in her bed,

“Amanda, you fuck like thoroughbred horse gallops.”

She wasn't offended; she liked riding horses and enjoyed the feel of smooth power the animals held within them. Several times on day long rides out she had come back home with very wet riding pants from the rhythm and the hard leather against her body.

Amanda was not a petite woman; at 5'10'' with wide shoulders and broad flat hips that curved around a softly domed belly she looked like she could take a hard ride and give as good as she took. Her full breasts were still firm and her large nipples were very dark, partially erect as a legacy of breast feeding her son.

Before leaving home she had shaved completely smooth and her reflection in the pool was so angled that she could see the dark frill of her labia between her parted thighs. Not bad for a fortysomething single mom, she had thought. Pity I’m banged up here with a bunch of old dykes.

Turning back to the carvings she had paused to think, what if this is all just lewd modern graffiti, the product of some overheated teen fantasy? Closer examination of the ancient symbolism and the depiction of a deity amongst the carvings dismissed her doubts.

The cycle of images depicted women being given up to the deity in the penultimate scene. This was only after mating with several of the male figures earlier in the sequence. The carvings of the God were unfortunately less clear. The images suggested an unformed being; an entity with an amoeba like capacity to change shape. It had some octopoid characteristics as well; tentacles. The image was not something she recognised from any of the familiar mythical stereotypes. The central image was very strange, that of a female figure with spread eagled limbs surrounded by an aura or halo, Amanda couldn’t make it out.

The fingers of one hand traced the carved stone outlines as her other hand explored the softer, warmer and more sensitive parts of her own body. She was wet between her legs and dipped her fingers into her warmth, causing her to whimper softly. An urge came unbidden to raise glistening wet fingers to the stone; to use her body fluids with a dirty little thrill, to moisten and clarify the incised images.

She tried to imagine what had happened here; the sweating, moaning, writhing sex. She felt there would have been no inhibitions, anything could be and was done to the women brought here.

She wondered if they were willing participants or if they fought, kicked and screamed as they were gang raped to the glory of their Gods. These carvings must have been made by someone who had participated in the debauch; the cave was too small for watchers. Her damp fingers were touching where their eldritch hands had been. Her hands were retracing the movements of the same hands that had held the offerings as they writhed and screamed.

She was touching herself now as the images played in her mind’s eye. She saw hard muscled young men with powerful thighs, gorgeous butts and bulging calves worshipping their Gods. Using the women as alters of worship, holy vessels to take their hot seed as they spilled their essence in offering.


The orgasm took her by surprise, breaking her daydream. She had not come since sleeping with Martin, the weekend before she left and the pent up release was a powerful one. Amanda usually came wet, her juices flowing readily, ejaculating a few ounces of fluid when she had her first orgasm. This was no exception; she felt her come flood over her fingers to drip on the shingle, splashing at the shore of the rock pool.

She luxuriated in the thick afterglow of climax and spread her thighs a little wider to accommodate her exploring hand.

Amanda sometimes fisted if she felt particularly lusty and wide open. One hand was on the carvings, supporting her arched torso as she had worked her knuckles inside. The sensation of being so stretched was exquisite. She was about to bring herself to orgasm when it attacked. Later she theorized that she must have woken it with her release of sexual energy and psychic focus on the carvings. It had not been sudden or even violent, in truth she did not know what was happening then.

The pool had silently flowed out from its depression in the shingle and wet her ankles. Amanda removed her hand at the touch and her pale grey eyes went wide as she watched the clear fluid coat her legs, flowing up and over her thighs, hips, belly, breasts and then very rapidly covering all her body.

It was only then that she panicked, fighting for breath as it flowed into her mouth. It stopped short of flowing into her throat; it allowed her to breathe but not speak. The rest of the pool followed and she felt her limbs being moved around by the liquid pressure, arranged to accommodate it. In a moment of insight Amanda realised that her body resembled the splayed position of the figure in the last carved image.

Then the thing had started to fuck her.


Amanda was beginning to get that familiar hot silky feeling in her belly. The entity seemed to be reacting to her mood, changing the depth and rhythm of its thrusting, expanding and contracting its girth in waves, throbbing like a cat purring, continually moving deep inside her. It was as if it knew precisely what did it for her. Her cries were more moans than protest now.

'Uhh huhh, that's good, Oh God, right there, just a little harder. Oh fuck, oh fuck, that hurts good. Mhh hmm, right there, push it harder. Oh fuck'.

Amanda was writhing and twisting her whole body in response to the intense sensual stimulation she felt throughout her body, bumping and grinding her broad pelvis like a world champion pole dancer. The thing flowed around her body yet again, releasing much of its hold on her, re attaching tendrils to the rock around her; allowing her the freedom to fuck it right back.


Amanda was coming; it felt like she would explode with the pressure of the overwhelming sensations to which the creature was subjecting her. It had changed again, flowing almost completely inside her; leaving very little substance outside her. A slick wetness spread around her thighs and groin and a few taut tendrils like thrumming cables pinioned her body to the wall. It had concentrated its density into twin penetrating pistons, thudding rhythmically inside her. The hydraulic cylinders pumped her, touching every sensitive part of her in just the way she wanted. Their substance rippled and pulsed against her walls, pressing every good nerve. It understood when she needed gentleness and when she ached to feel a little pain, soft sliding touches and hard, pile driving thrusts.

It was the perfect lover; Amanda arched in ecstasy as another climax fragmented her consciousness into a million shards. It was the highest peak she had ever climbed followed by the biggest wave, crashing and flooding through her. She saw things she had never seen, the universe seemed to wheel within her; stars forming, blazing and fading. She saw things, living beings that were not like anything she knew and she felt part of it all. She felt worshipped and worshipping at the same time. This was Gnosis, being and knowledge with understanding just at the edge of her consciousness.

Amanda passed out from the overwhelming sensual emotion, falling gently to the shingle.

She lay still, breathing heavily. Her breasts quivered as her body still shuddered with the small aftershocks of the consciousness-altering orgasmic experience.

Water began to leak slowly from her, run out of her in a sluggish thick trickle, oozing over her thighs, down her legs and disappearing into the shingle. As she lay gasping from the ecstasy, the pool left her. The depression in the cave floor slowly began to fill with faintly glowing water.


Later that evening back at the Villa Amanda listened to the measured breathing of the sleeping woman in the other bed. Her mind went back to the impossible memories of the afternoon and her hand snaked between her legs. I think I’ll go back to the cave again tomorrow, with a bucket. Amanda shuddered and came.

The End

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