Climbing With Balls

The morning sun had just blinked over the top of the eastern escarpment, and it washed like orange gouache across the volcanic tuft. Magpies called from the gnarled cedars and a subtle shimmer of sage scent wafted through the heating air. Overhead, the intensity of the spotless tourmaline sky drew deeper in the waxing light. She stood motionless, like a golden pillar, naked, against the stony coolness of the vertical earth. Her eyes were closed. She was a lizard, soaking in the solar energy of the baby day, the goose bumps at the surface of her mahogany skin slowly smoothing. The nostrils of her fine nose flared in the sharp pungent scent of the dirt on her feet, the sweet acrid intoxicating smell of juniper berries, the comforting salty wet-meat aroma of her own glowing body.

The cracked and pocketed wall behind her rose over 200 feet above the valley floor. It wasn’t a big wall, but it was as exposed as she was, as naked as she was, as muscular as she was. The two were a match. She was there by herself. It was she and the rock. The two knew each other. She’d made love to this rock before. She had been scraped, scratched, broken and bloodied by this rock. The rock had torn her hair, bitten her nipples and made her cry. It had also made her laugh. It had fucked her hard and put her away wet. It had left her breathless and boneless.
She was back for another round, and she smiled wickedly in the rising sun, as she mapped her climb in her mind. She knew the holds, the cool cracks, the slippery skin of the wall. She knew where to concentrate and where to cruise. She knew where to fear for her life and where to laugh at death.

Her skin felt and glowed like caramel when she turned to face the roughness of her lover. She reached into her backpack and brought out a small, velvet, sack. Inside were two golden balls, the size of quail eggs. She took them out and put them in her mouth. Once warmed, they were inserted deep inside of her, to press and play against her as she climbed. She could feel them, there, as she placed her bare foot against the wall and pulled herself up, into her first move. The sun lit up the small hairs on her back and buttocks as she lifted herself up into the next position.
She felt so strong, and so powerful and so horny. The balls in her vagina pushed against her, making her wet, causing her muscles to grip and grab and spasm. It was distracting. This is what she wanted. This was the challenge. She would take this monster on, and spread her sex all over him and come out on top.

With each move, the heavy orbs within her moved against the walls of her sex, pressing, tickling, exciting. Her pussy dripped upon the face to the wall, coating him in her liquor. About 100 feet up, she gripped the rock with her left hand, stood spread-eagle in the sun, and rubbed her clit until her head was spinning. She had to stop. She pressed her chest against the rocky lips of her geological lover and felt the radiating warmth flowing through her. Her legs ached to throw themselves over her head, to succumb to his hardness.

With twenty feet to go, she felt as if she was being pulled into, and onto, him. This vertical challenge, this pulsing force of strength, was fucking her upward, forcing her to the top. She was light, she was air, she was color, she was beauty. She floated those last few moves, until she pushed up over the tip of him, her arms aching, her bare feet shaking, a stream of her love running down her legs. She collapsed at the head of her lover, spread her tired legs in the sun, and screamed…..