Chapter 6 - Aristomache & Eupraxia

Author's note: it's been a long time since I updated this story - I have not been writing much lately. I feel pretentious even saying this, but I did not feel inspired... Ugh... Until, that is, a few days ago when, for reasons I don't understand, I suddenly felt like writing and here we are! I hope people are still interested.


CHAPTER VI
'ARISTOMACHE & EUPRAXIA'

A gunshot! And not too far away either. Clytemnestra and I both instantly turn to face the direction of the sound, even as the echo rolls around the landscape. The standing stones of the four concentric stone circles block all vision.

	I drop my pack and unsling my rifle working the leaver to chamber a cartridge. Clytemnestra is loading hers at the same time. Glancing at one another we creep toward the perimeter of the stone circle. I wince every time Clytemnestra's hooves clip-clop against the hard marble floor.

	It feels like an age before we reach the edge of the outermost ring of stones and can peer fearfully into the night. The sun has been down for a good hour now and we have only the bright starlight to see by. Absently I wonder why the nights of this world are so less dark than they should be.

“There,” Clytemnestra hisses, pointing.

	Yes, I can see now, a light-coloured shape moving in the distance. Maybe a person? I'm glad of my dark red clothing now. Had I been wearing white I'd show up like them. I lie prone and aim down the barrel of my rifle, fixing my aim on the centre of mass.

	Seconds tick by. Whoever fired that gun, they are coming this way, I'm certain of it. I have to blink and when I do my vision swims for a moment. My eyes focus again and I know what I see, I'm certain. I glance up at Clytemnestra.

“It's a centaur,” I whisper, as loud as I dare.

“Not a centaur, two,” she whispers back.

	I raise my head a little. She's right! I had been so intent on my aim at the white centaur that I'd completely missed the dark coloured smudge of the other. I'm sure they've not seen us yet. Clytemnestra's dark coat and deep brown skin and my dark red clothes are helping us hide in the shadows of the stones, where these two centaurs are more obvious even in the starlight.

“Far enough, friends!” Clytemnestra's voice booms out and I've never been so grateful that I had good trigger discipline drilled into me at a young age. If my finger had been on the trigger I could easily have fired in surprise.

	Both centaurs stop dead, looking about. I glance up at Clytemnestra as she strides into the open, rifle levelled. I quickly take aim again, covering her.

“What were you shooting at?”

The white centaur speaks, clear and clam, “Game only! Put up your gun and call us friend again, friend!”

	They are about a hundred yards off, I don't see any weapons in their hands, but unless I miss my guess both have rifles scabbarded at their waists. Clytemnestra lowers her gun, and breaks it, but does not unload it or put it away. I watch carefully as she walks closer to them, and they to her. She puts her arm on the shoulder of each in turn, just as she once did to me, and they both return the gesture as I could not.

	I think they talk briefly, but I cannot hear. Now Clytemnestra calls to me, she sounds calm, even happy.

	I walk closer. My gun is still in my hands, but not pointed at anything. I'm ready, though, ready to bring it to my shoulder at a moment's notice. The three centaurs stand easy, smiling cheerfully. For the first time in a long time I realise just how big Clytemnestra is. I've always known it of course, but familiarity has a way of dulling one's perceptions until suddenly I am standing amongst three people who could each snap me like a twig.

	I look up at their faces, feeling very small and alien. Alien, different, not normal. I wonder if this is how Clytemnestra feels amongst humans? I doubt it, she's too strong willed to let such things bother her. I feel it, though. 

	Clytemnestra calls me her companion, she introduces me to these other centaurs, Aristomache and her wife Eupraxia, as though they are old friends. I shouldn't be surprised, isn't that how she acted to me when first we met?

	Aristomache is tall, even for a centaur, or so I think. She's more than nine feet I'm sure. Tall, broad shouldered, muscular and full breasted with a strong, Junoesque face given to easy confidence. She has long chestnut red hair and coat and tanned, coppery skin with intricate knotted tattoos that look Celtic to me. Her round breasts are all but bursting forth from a bustier of similar design, but distinct style to Clytemnestra's halter top.

	Eupraxia is less tall, and more finely built, slim and lithe with almost no bust at all. In fact, unlike Clytemnestra and Aristomache she clearly feels no need to wear anything to restrain her tiny breasts. No wonder she stood out in the dark so. Her hair and coat are pure white to match her pale skin. A mass of excited white hair boils forth beneath each arm.

	Both of them are belted with leather scabbards holding long rifles similar to Clytemnestra's, and Eupraxia has a dead deer thrown over her withers explaining the shot we heard.

“Nice to meet you?” I manage, presently.

	I am a little stunned, to say the least. Whatever part of my brain it is that's responsible for sorting the world into the categories of normal and amazing had apparently managed to file Clytemnestra, somehow, as normal without remotely preparing me for the possibility of meeting other centaurs.

	Standing here, gazing up at them, somehow I'm no better prepared to deal with the sight than I was when I first saw Clytemnestra.

“A meeting is a blessing,” Aristomache smiles, laying her hand on my shoulder like a sack of lead shot.

“You've no need for weapons with us, little one,” Eupraxia adds, nodding at my rifle.

	I glance at Clytemnestra and she nods. The two newcomers invite us to join them for dinner and, my misgivings rapidly evaporating under a genuine sense of trust about them, I'm glad to accept, as is Clytemnestra. By the time I've dashed back to the centre of the stone circle to retrieve by pack and got back, a not inconsiderable distance, there is a merry little fire burning and all three centaurs are settled around it in a circle.

	As is my custom I sit with Clytemnestra, leaning against her warm, hard body.

“We're travelling the world,” she says, “Just for the sake of doing it, of seeing new things and meeting new people.

Eupraxia’s hands clasp together, “How romantic.”

“What about you?” I ask, both for curiosity and for something to say, “We're a long way from anywhere and we haven't seen anyone else out here.”

“We're going to cross the mountains,” Aristomache points through the stone circle toward where the pass is, “We carry messages for the Grand Master of Zoa.”

“Zoa?”

“The land beyond the mountains. That is your destination, isn't it?”

“Well, yes... We just didn't know what it was called. What's it like?”

	It's taken me a while to lift my eyes from Eupraxia's almost-flat chest. There's something fascinating about tiny little breasts, something deeply sexy. When I do manage to lift my eyes from Eupraxia's inviting lack of bust I meet her eyes! Orange. Not brown, like Clytemnestra and Aristomache, but pure tangerine. The colour is startling and I'm lost in them for a moment.

“Few know,” Eupraxia says, startling me, “Aristomache's mother was a great favourite in the court of Zoa in her youth, but few others have been there. It is a place of fabulous wealth and huge power, or so she said. They know much magic and science there, but guard it jealously.”

	That certainly excites my interest. It sounds like a fascinating place, depending on how jealously they do in fact guard their knowledge.

Aristomache takes up the thread, “My mother said that she saw things there the like of which exists nowhere else. It was her final wish in life that I see what she had seen, and that I carry her letter to the Grand Master who rules that land.”

“I should very much like to see it too,” Clytemnestra says, excitedly.

“Zoa is called the 'city on the bridge'. That is just what it is. My mother described it often. There is a lake, long and wide, and over it, a bridge. The bridge is black stone and reaches from one shore to the other, and so wide and long that there is a city on its back. There are homes and palaces and places of business and of pleasure, all built upon the bridge. If you cross the mountains, you will see a sight such as few have.” 

Clytemnestra is growing more excited as Aristomache speaks, “You're right, we do mean to cross the mountains, and I for one should love to have such pleasant company for the trip, if you'll consent.”

“Provided,” I must interject, “You don't mind my slowing you down.”

“Gladly,” Aristomache beams, “If the road beyond the pass is as difficult as we have been told, you may outpace any of us, in fact.”

	Oh joy. I wonder how bad this road might be if she thinks I'll make better progress than three centaurs. My train of thought is disturbed by Eupraxia rising to her hooves.

By pure reflex I ask, “Where are you going?”

“I need a pee,” she replies carelessly.

Clytemnestra's excited voice pipes up, “Ooh! Can I watch?”

“What?” both the other centaurs look at her.

“I like watching attractive women peeing,” she replies matter-of-factly, then adding, for some damned reason,“It's a thing I have.”

	I can't say I'm surprised. In fact, I've been waiting for Clytemnestra to try and put her, for want of a better word, moves on them. Even I wouldn't have predicted it'd be like this, though.

Eupraxia looks at her for a long moment and then shrugs slightly, “Why not?”

“Can I watch too?” I'm a little surprised at my own courage, but it does sound like fun.

“Why not?” Eupraxia's voice is halfway between laughter and exasperation, “Anyone else? Aristomache do you want to watch me?”

“Alright.”

That surprises Eupraxia, “I didn't think you were like that.”

“Well... If everyone else is...” she smiles uncertainly.

	Eupraxia looks at each of us in turn as though not entirely sure how things came to this point and then just shakes her head. Clytemnestra tells her to turn around and she does.

	Eupraxia's long white tail swishes away revealing her sexy equine womanhood, dark amid her white coat. From my brief but extraordinarily attentive study of centaur sexuality I'd say she's at least a bit turned on, whatever else she might think of what we're asking her to do.

	Nothing happens. I suppose I can hardly blame her for having difficulty performing for an audience, and the view is nice. Clytemnestra slips a hand into my top, cupping a small breast and squeezing very slightly. Eupraxia spreads her rear legs a little and her sex winks at us.

“I can't go,” she whines.

“Patience,” Clytemnestra soothes, “Just let it come in your own time.”

	Another long minute passes. I'm certain that Eupraxia is getting excited and wet. I know I am. Sparkling in the firelight there's a distinct glistening within her lips that was not there before. My fingers slowly massage my centre through my dampening knickers. Now! Yes, there's a trickle from Eupraxia, and almost instantly it grows into a strong arcing jet!

	A stream of coruscating pee erupts from between Eupraxia's dark lips. Hissing and splashing it strikes the ground throwing up droplets which spark and twinkle briefly in the firelight before falling back to earth. I inhale the strong, sexy scent, not merely massaging myself now my self stimulation has advanced to real masturbation, while Clytemnestra excitedly gropes at my breasts.

	Alas, Eupraxia is finished far too quickly, long before I can finish, that is. Her scintillating stream of pee failing slowly and then ceasing altogether with a few last drops running down her wet sex.

“Look at her!” Aristomache laughs excitedly, pointing I realise, at me!

	Eupraxia turns quickly, catching me sheepishly pulling my hand out of my skirt, not quite able to meet her bewitching tangerine eyes.

“She must really have enjoyed the show,” Aristomache leers at me, still laughing, “I want to see you pee, little one!”

	Eupraxia looks surprised, but masters herself quickly as she takes her place by the fire again. I'm all for it! I jump to my feet and start pulling my clothes off eager to piss for the three centaurs.

	All three are watching me closely, Eupraxia is absolutely leaning in to get a better look at my hairy crotch. I wonder of she or Aristomache have seen a nude human before?

	I spread my legs quite wide, wider than I normally would and lace my fingers behind my head, giving them all a good look. It's a wonderful, wild exhilarating feeling when I let myself go. I feel hot sexy piss splash out from within me, I feel three deeply attractive women concentrating all their attention on me. There is both amusement and a bit of genuine lust on Aristomache's face. Clytemnestra catches my eye and deliberately licks her lips. Eupraxia seems stunned, unable to believe what she's doing, or what she did.

	When I'm finished I stride impudently back to Clytemnestra, not bothering to get dressed again.

“Me next!” she cries excitedly, before I can sit down with her.

	In a trice she's up and displaying her lovely sex for us. Her arousal is beyond question, nectar dripping from her slick opening. I've seen her piss often enough of course, and much as I do enjoy it I take the chance to watch our companions.

	Eupraxia is perfectly still, her eyes fixed unblinking on Clytemnestra's show. Aristomache is grinning widely, enjoying things more for the novelty than the eroticism, I deem.

“Should I do it too?” she asks when Clytemnestra has finished. “He he! I can't believe I'm going to do it!”

	She stands but I stop her just before she can turn around.

“Well then,” I interrupt, “I suppose you've never peed on anyone either?”

I dash over and lay my hand on her shapely haunch, “Wanna change that?”

She giggles uncertainly, “On you?”

“All over me!”

“Do it...” Eupraxia's voice is strange, filled with lust and I think even she's a little surprised to hear herself say that aloud.

“Do it!” Clytemnestra cheers, “Do it! Do it!”

	Aristomache laughs disbelievingly and tells me to get ready. I take a seat and she turns around pointing her wet womanhood right at me. Of course, nothing happens for a long time. She's no more accustomed to an audience than Eupraxia, I guess, and Clytemnestra's continued encouragement probably doesn't help.

	Just when I'm starting to lose hope and feel a bit silly sitting here with my mouth open Aristomache manages a squirt, and then another and now I'm struck by her hot, hot stream. My eyes snap shut and I feel it play across my body. I try to chase it, try to get a taste and succeed in snatching a mouthful here and there as it zooms across my body in an exhilarating, forceful massage. Wt, hot and sexy he pee runs rivulets all down my bare skin, tickling, touching, caressing me.

	I'm wet head to toe! I feel her piss running, flowing, dripping all over my body. Aristomache examines her handiwork, hand over her mouth. I glance at our audience, Clytemnestra's clearly having the time of her life and Eupraxia... My word! Naked lust is etched across her, clear as day.

Aristomache finds her voice, “I can't believe I just did that!”

	I stand and stride, strut, in fact, to Clytemnestra and we share a lusty, licking wet kiss. Aristomache's gasp is a joy to my ears. Well it's about to get better.

	I think Clytemnestra's surprised when all to soon I shake myself free of her  and go now to Eupraxia. I was right. There's no lust like a centaur's and she is fully under its spell. There's no hesitation, no second thought as I throw myself into her arms and our lips meet. We kiss for but a moment, though, She's strong, so strong, I am powerless to resist as she acts solely for herself. For her own lust she kisses me, she licks my cheek, my neck, she sucks at my nipples and licks and kisses all across my wet chest and then on down still.

	Eupraxia is so clearly thinking only of her pleasure, but I can be patient now as I take my ease on the soft grass and let her have her way with me. Her fingers, her hands, slide all over me, her tongue licks across my wet skin all the while drawing nearer my most intimate treasure.

	A soft gasp makes me look around. Clytemnestra and Aristomache are far from idle. The stand side by side, facing opposite directions an each very obviously stimulating the other with her hand. I can see Clytemnestra's skilled fingers at work against Aristomache's pretty quim. I can hear both vocalising the pleasure the other is giving her.

	For all that she's not even trying to get me off it's not at all unpleasant to just lie here in the grass and let Eupraxia lick away at me. That's not to say I don't want a little more from her, though. The other two centaurs are becoming more heated, Clytemnestra's fingers are a blur in the firelight. I take Eupraxia's head between my hands, guiding her toward my own desires as well as hers.

“Ooh! Oh yes, good girl, just there! Just there...”

	Her lips just brush my pleasure centre, making me squirm and shiver delightedly. I'd bet she's never eaten a human woman before, but I'm certain she's had a lot of practice with someone! She admixes hearty licking of my lips and the moistness within with oh-so-gentle caressing of my excited clitty with her mouth, not enough to make it sore, just enough to drive me wild with lust. Every step builds my excitement just a little higher before letting me level off and hang in luxurious anticipation of the next. She has me sighing my joy, writhing and tearing up little clumped handfuls of grass while always she is flicking, licking, teasing at my rapidly boiling sex.

	I force myself against her now. Rocking my hips, holding tight to her forcing her to drive me on to ecstasy. I'm so close! Aristomache noisily gasps through her orgasm and moments later so does Clytemnestra I'm so close! Fucking myself on the centaur's face, her loving tongue meeting every thrust of my hips, lifting me to the pinnacle of joy!

	For one instant I am suspended, arched entirely off the ground, muscles taught and mind lost in pleasure-wrought unthinking. I fall, I collapse panting to the ground. Aristomache's soft, lusty chuckles ghosting through my mind.

	I open my eyes just in time for Clytemnestra to step over my prone body, a momentarily frighting experience. She takes Eupraxia by the hand and guides her to her stand up, whereupon I scamper from beneath their large bodies and they share a lingering, sensual kiss flavoured with my own nectar.

	I sense a presence behind me and in a moment Aristomache's equine chest is pressed to my neck. Her hands snake around me, cupping my small breasts and I lean back into her.

“Eeek!” I squeal in shock as she effortlessly hoists me up, cradled like a child in her arms.

	She's absolutely still chuckling at my fright! I throw my arms around her and at that she kisses me. A hard, hungry kiss as strong and irresistible as everything about her.

“Ooh! Look at that,” she half whispers, half laughs into my ear, moving her arms to point me back toward our friends.

	Clytemnestra and Eupraxia are back to back. Slightly offset and each forcing herself against the other, tribbing herself on the other's powerful haunch. Clytemnestra is clearly pinching at her own nipples, pinching, rolling and pulling more forcefully than I'd ever dare, even knowing ho much she likes her nipples mistreated. Eupraxia's hands are on her equine back, her head is thrown back and she utters little gasping sighs of pleasure with every stroke of their lovemaking.  

“Mm,” I sigh, “I wish I could do that with her.”

“And I wish I could do that!” Aristomache nods down at me, at my hand working away at my sex.

“Well, if you want, I could do it for you?”

	She kisses me again, just as hard before setting me down so I can dash back to her waiting honeypot. So wet! So very very wet, winking and opening wide, rivulets of tempting juice running from her big horse cunt. This is no time for subtlety or finesse. I dive right in, planting a long slurping, sucking lick all the way up that sexy, drippy mess. Her body flinches at my sudden, rough stimulation and then she twitches her broad backside, forcing herself against me with such eagerness that I am almost knocked down.

	Face-deep in her juicy snatch I know I've read my woman right. Artless, enthusiastic cuntlicking of a kind I'm more than happy to provide. My hands find her stiff, aroused nipples and I'm rewarded with a happy moan. I take a chance and directly suck on her long, stiff clit making her shiver all over.

	Her flavour is mild and slightly bitter and feminine and erotic beyond thought. I swallow more of her juices with every lick and more still coats my face, drips from my chin, else runs down my neck or splashes on my chest. All I taste is her nectar, all I hear are her moans of lust, all I feel is the heat of her body and the touch of her tail on my back. My fingers massage her hard nipples, my tongue probes every part of her slick slit. In and out, down and up, right and left, tasting everywhere, drawing patterns of pleasure in her temple of love.

	Aristomache's moans are growing louder. Louder and more rapid, the pulsing of her cunt is faster too and her body jerks now and again as pleasure takes over from control. I feel a hoof stamping and pawing at the ground, Her gasps become more and more high-pitched, surprisingly so for a woman her size, and at the apex of her joy she comes, quaking all over and with a long, drawn-out wail of delight. I eagerly lick up the love that flows freely from her.

	Come morning I'm really disinclined to move. Cuddled up naked in my blanket I try to resist Clytemnestra's shaking my body. The four of us made love late into the night. Mmm – I licked three different women's cunts last night, three different centaur's cunts! One after the other. There's a happy memory to replay in the morning.

	Clytemnestra gives me one last shake and then whips my blanket away, pulling me fully out of my pleasant memory, “Get up, lazybones! And stop masturbating!”

“I wasn't!” which is to say I was just about to when she pulled my blanket off, but she didn't give me time.

	Aristomache laughs at my indigence and I huffily get up and wonder down to the river to splash a little water around before getting dressed.

“You sleep a long time, don't you?” Eupraxia asks.

“So I've been told.”

“We've a long way to go. Do you always sleep all night long?”

“I'm afraid so.”

	I make some tea and natter with Eupraxia a little longer. I can see she's wondering how much I'll slow the journey down.

“If you need to sleep, you need to sleep and that's an end to it. We should start moving soon,” Aristomache adds.

“Alright. I would like to examine those stones a little more though. Your arrival last night interrupted things before I could get a good feel of things.”

“She said there's magic in them,” Clytemnestra explains, “She's a sorceress you know.”

	I'm uncomfortably aware of both other centaurs looking suddenly at me.

“I!” Aristomache sputters, “You mean I... Pissed on a sorceress!”

“Yes,” I confirm, dully, “I don't imagine there are lots of people who can say that... Probably more than you might think though.”

	I let her process that thought. Clytemnestra is thoroughly enjoying things. I leave them to it and walk back to the circle a little ways away.

	There's that feeling again. Magic. A great swell of magic all around me. Waiting. Limitless potential for change, waiting for something to trigger it. I wonder between the stones, laying my hand now and again on one or another, feeling the magic within.

	Now I've reached the innermost circle. I hear movement behind and see all three centaurs are following me, but not too close, watching me. Each has some degree of awe, or fear or wonder on her face, even Clytemnestra. All pause as I turn and look at them.

	I go on to the centre of the circle, to the stone curule. It's as high as my waist, rectangular and very broad. I can feel the magic absolutely billowing from it before I even lay a hand to the stone. My skin thrums with the trapped, waiting power when I touch it.

	My eyes close and I bring the magic of this place into focus within my mind. I can see it, clear and obvious. Branching lines of logic, commands, conditions, variables and subroutines. A vast spell-programme still functioning, and waiting.

	But not for me... The spell is too big, to complex for me to decode, not if I had a year to do it, but it's obvious even now that, whatever the circle is waiting for, it's not me. If it were, it would already be doing... Whatever it is that it does.

“It's quite safe,” I smile gently at the centaurs, who are standing a dozen paces away, glancing between one another.

	They approach a little closer and I go to them, taking Clytemnestra's hand in mine.

“I've seen what I wanted to see.”

	The mountains, until now scenic and attractive suddenly take on a considerably more imposing aspect in my mind, now that we are walking toward them. Our path drives straight toward the gap between two peaks, the much anticipated pass, but clearly it will still involve ascending some thousands of feet – a fact attested to by the fact that even before the day is out we are walking up a noticeable incline.

	The next day things become even more arduous. By mid morning our path is a long series of looping switchbacks cut into the living stone by some unknown hand. It's just wide enough that two centaurs may walk side by side, provided one of them is not too afraid of heights. We walk in single file.

	The stream which had babbled calmly down by the stone circle now cascades excitedly through a series of short falls and cataracts which pool in wide shallow basins before leaping again down to the next. According to Aristomache, her mother made the climb in two days. With me slowing everything down five seems the least we will manage.

	So the days go by. At once point our road makes a more extravagant loop than most, swinging wide out at the valley's edge and providing us a dizzying view straight down to the plains below through thousands of feet of empty air. Clytemnestra points into the distance, claiming to see the forest where we first met. Perhaps she can but I can't.

	That night is the first we notice a distinct chill in the air. In fact, it's the first time since arriving in this world that I've felt anything approaching cold. Aristomache and Eupraxia both came prepared. They each have a large, thick wool and fur cloak cut and formed to protect both parts of their bodies.

	Clytemnestra and I have no such garments but it's a very simple matter now for me to protect us both from changing temperature. When Eupraxia asks I provide the same protection for her and her wife. I feel really rather magical right now and their impressed looks are very gratifying.

	Having climbed for six days our road is now almost level now we are in the much advertised pass. In my mind I had pictured snow and ice, perhaps some manner of narrow rock shelf clinging to the side of a mountain, Certainly the risks of avalanche and blizzard. All the things that 'mountain pass' naturally conjures to my mind.

	Of course, the actual pass proves to be no such thing. It is a very attractive alpine meadow. Cold, yes, but certainly not snowbound. Lush grass and red and blue wildflowers grow between the snowy peaks to our left and right. Here and there mighty house-sized boulders sit brooding. Clytemnestra says they are remnants of rock-slides, though things seem very calm now.

	At the far end, where the pass once again becomes a much narrower way descending the mountains I spy what initially seems to be a large group of such stones. Once we are nearer though it's obvious what they are, or, were. Statues, three of them. Three stone centaurs, now tumbled to rubble and ruin. Each one must have been twenty feet tall at the withers when they stood.

	We pause to examine them. Aristomache says her mother never mentioned these statues, though I suppose she could not have recounted every detail of the journey. Up close it's obvious, despite decades, maybe centuries of weathering, the statues were hugely defaced at some point. The faces of all three have been smashed to dust by picks or hammers and all of their limbs and the swords and lances they once carried are broken apart too thoroughly to be the result of simple time.

	It's a strange mood amongst us as we make camp among the rubble that night. Someone once went to a huge amount of hardship to place these statues in this high place, and someone else put a lot of effort into smashing them to pieces for some reason. Aristomache cannot comment on either event, pointing out that both must have been a long, long time before her mother travelled this way. Shame. I'd have liked to see them as they must have been.

	Very soon after leaving the pass the path opens out again showing us most of our route down and a huge vista of the country spread out before us. Unmissable, a huge shard of silver water. I know it is no sea, for we are going inland, but this is a truly cyclopean lake, almost an inland sea. Just as obvious, the wide, dark line cutting across the water. Zoa, city on the bridge.

	Even knowing that it is large enough to hold a city I am staggered by the scale of the thing. Even from so far away it looks big. It must be twenty miles long and at least two wide, maybe more. The shores of the lake show obvious geometric patterns of farming and irrigation and long, straight roads cut through the countryside, meeting inevitably at the bridge itself.

	In between us and the city though... That is another matter. Forest is not the word I'd use, the expanse of green stretching for miles beyond the mountains is very definitely jungle. I point this out to my travelling companions.

Eupraxia nods solemnly, “Why do you think Aristomache's mother is so rare? Why do so few people visit Zoa, or come from there?”

“So we have to go through there?”

“Yes,” Aristomache points out a winding green snake of river visible flowing through the jungle and thence on to the lake, “That is our way. We must reach the river and build a raft, the current will carry us the rest of the way.”

	The river, so far as I can tell, flows nowhere near where we are, or where our path down the mountain seems to be carrying us. Nevertheless, that is our path and we follow it.

	The temperature grows as we descend over the next couple of days. So much so in fact that I have no desire to lift my thermostasis spell, which is now keeping us cool, rather than warm. Within two days we are in the jungle, though still a good way up the mountain. It only gets hotter as we travel deeper and down.

	The centaurs have deep misgivings about our surroundings. They feel claustrophobic and are not in high spirits as the trees close about us.

	Ah, but I am... This place is an Eden. I feel healed, nurtured by every minute I spend here. The air is perfumed by wild flowers and rich, healthy soil and all good things which grow. Gentle currents of air cool the skin else carry colourful exotic birds and shimmering butterflies as broad as my hand. From time to time we come across some sight that is almost heart-stopping in its singular splendour.

	Here, a perfect, golden beam of sunlight lances down from the canopy, illuminating a hundred million grains of pollen dancing within it. There a mighty tree, thick as a castle's tower has fallen and now has new young trees growing from it's bulk.

	We make camp on the third night in a small clearing by the edge of a wide, circular plunge-pool. A tall waterfall leaps down into it from somewhere above the canopy and splashes excitedly in rainbow sprays of crystal clear water. 

	It's quite wonderfully beautiful, backed by the deep green jungle scattered with vibrant bright flowers. The roar of water and the cheerful birdsong and other calls of the wildlife beyond join together almost musically.

	Eupraxia almost instantly scampers into the water and I cannot resist tearing off my clothes and following her splashily out into the cool, clear water. I feel the fine white sand squish beneath my feet, between my toes and I shiver as the cool, crisp water massages my naked skin. I wade out to the deepest part of the pool where the water comes up to my hips and I am in almost standing beneath the falls.

	Spray is thrown up all around us where the fall knifes deep into our wonderful pool. It mists my body and her's and we're surrounded by rainbows and the sound of churning, splashing, laughing water.

	Eupraxia gasps as she walks right through the falling water, emerging utterly wet, her long white hair clinging most attractively to her sexy body. About the same time, Clytemnestra and then Aristomache join us and we all dance through the falls many times.

	To start with it is a frightening, even panicking sensation as all that water pours down and my body feels like I am drowning. Then suddenly I'm back in the clear air, sputtering for breath and wiping drips from my eyes.

	Thereafter it's much more fun until, after a little while, just as I have emerged from the falls again, strong hands suddenly seize me about the shoulders and drag me back under to be kissed with great force and then just as strongly ejected beck from whence I had been dragged.

	Of course, I fall over and by the time I erupt back out of the water, Clytemnestra is right there, laughing and winking at me.

“Not fair!”

“Oh lady! If it were fair it wouldn't be such fun!”

“Get her!” With that cry I charge forward, kicking great waves of water before me and uselessly laying my shoulder to Clytemnestra's immovable chest as though I could push her beneath the falls.

	With a surprised yelp she suddenly is forced back as Aristomache lends me aid and even Clytemnestra cannot resist the larger centaur. We push her all the way back through the falls and out the other side.

“Quarter! Quarter! I submit,” she laughs, and Aristomache lets her go.

	Aristomache lets her go just so she can put a stinging smack on Clytemnestra's glossy wet hindquarters.

“Ow! Why... Ow!” Aristomache does it again, “So that's how it is?”

	Clytemnestra rears around and slaps Aristomache's bum in turn and both of them are cantering about one another in circles, casting giant waves that quite knock me from my feet and slapping one another's rumps for all their worth. All I can do is hang on to Eupraxia for support against the waves and watch, and listen to the sharp wet slaps.

	Eventually their spanking fight wears itself out and Eupraxia tells them to 'kiss and make up' which they do with no little enthusiasm. It's an attractive sight to say the least, one to stir desire in a woman. In fact I'm reminded of a desire I've had for a while and, albeit with a little backwards glance, leave them to it for a moment to go and fetch my sea sponge and my now rather reduced cherry scented soap.

When their lips have parted, I take my cue, “There's something I've wanted to do to you for a long time, now,” I say, taking Clytemnestra by the hand and leading her into the deepest part of the pool.

“Oh? And what might that be, lady?”

“I want,” I turn around to face her, “To give you,” I raise the soap menacingly, “A bath!”

	She gives me a saucy smile, spreads her arms wide and bids me do just that.

	Oh, but she is the most magnificent woman! Sometimes, too often, I find I have become... Accustomed to her, I take her for granted, lose my sense of wonder at her sheer presence. And then, at times like this it hits me afresh.

	She kneels down in the water, until I can reach up and scrub the pink soap against her chest. Rub it back and forth leaving smears of white suds against her rich brown skin. Little rivulets of soap run down between her firm round breasts. I scrub it across the crinkly, darker skin of her areolae and up and across and down. All over her flat tummy, I can feel the gentle shapes of ribs and hard, toned muscle under my hands, her skin soapy and slippy and wet.

	Down I go until near the water's surface her black, equine coat begins, sparse at first and then thicker and darker and more glossy . All over her sides and up to the thick, dark hair under her arms which I turn white and spiky with soap. I lean around, resting my hip against her flank to scrub the soap all over her back. I have to stretch and worm my way up her side as I strive to reach her head, to wash her hair until now I am all but sitting on her withers.

	With a heave and a great sluicing of water Clytemnestra rises to her hooves and I am fully sitting on her back. I squeal in surprise, hanging on to her about the shoulders and now sitting side-saddle, quivering for balance.

“Go on,” she says.

	So I do. I soap all over her back and then reach up to soap her short, scruffy black hair. Simply for balance my leg comes across and I am straddling her withers. Now I pass her the soap to hold and start to scrub at her body with my sponge.

	It's quite by accident of course, I'd certainly not planned it, but as a purely natural reaction to my scrubbing away, the rest of my body moves too. Back and forth, my hips rocking, wonderful, pleasurable sensations start to build at my centre. Within very little time my focus has shifted entirely, the sponge floats off on the water's surface where I dropped it, by hands roam over Clytemnestra's slick, soapy body and my hips roll, driving my lustful cunt against her withers.

	My arms embrace Clytemnestra, my hands cupping her exquisite breasts, else touching, tugging, teasing at her stiff, aroused nipples. Her hands reach back to me, taking me about the waist, guiding my rocking hips. My thighs clamp harder to her wet flanks, striving to magnify the sensations flowing into my overheated womanhood.

	Back and forth, back and forth, again and again, rolling my hips, my spine undulating like a snake, tribbing myself against her. Rubbing my spread sex against this spectacular woman. 

	My hands slide all over her body, slipping across her skin without friction, always returning though to her firm, feminine orbs.

“Clytemnestra. Clytemnestra. Clytemnestra.”

	I'm close. Getting closer. Every roll of my hips drives me on a little more, rubbing my most sensitive spot against her, feeding the growing heat between my legs. My head is swimming in the sensation, my cunt wet with desire against her coat.

	My legs are spread so wide, thighs hard against her hard flesh, I'm so open. I cling hard about her. Her breasts firm and slippery under my hands. My own hard against her soapy back. Can she feel? My nipples are so hard, can she feel them against her back? The thought excites me more.

	A wild, bucking, rocking ride carries me higher toward he peak of sexual  fulfilment. Every part of my body strives to be against her, I hold her so tight, I fuck myself against her so hard and fast. The muscles in my thighs are burning with the effort. I can do nothing but sob out incoherent gasps of joy until my legs clamp more tightly still around her and I come, crying out and holding her in a desperate, passionate orgasm that leaves me panting for breath, clinging still, weakly, to her back.

“I might've guessed that's what you had in mind, lady. Wash me, indeed?”

“What? No! No... I just... got distracted.”

	It's true, too. Ah, but how could I not? I realise that even now, I'm starting to tribb myself against her again and it takes a conscious effort to stop.

	I slide gingerly down from her back and guide her down into the water again where I can, having collected my sponge, start to wash the suds from her skin. Not that I am remotely done, now.

	We move into shallower water where it is my very great pleasure to start working the soap into her equine coat. All along her flank I scrub the soap accompanied by Aristomache's moans of pleasure. Eupraxia is kneeling behind her wife and to judge, most skilfully eating that delicious womanhood. I don't know which of them I envy more.

	Time enough for that later. I continue to apply soap in long, creamy swathes to Clytemnestra's wet black coat, circling around behind her, drawing the soap through her long tail and paying special care to her sex, which is wet not just with water.

	I was right. So right when I imagined how pleasurable it might be to wash her. To have license to run my hands all across every part of the woman I love. To feel her wet, slippery body all over. I caress her everywhere, feeling bone and strong muscle rippling under her skin. Up and down all four of her long, powerful legs, underneath her, smearing soap from her chest all along across her proud nipples and down her inner thighs.

	We splash deeper again into the pool for me to wash the soap from her again as Aristomache comes noisily on the shore. Once again I play with every wonderful inch of Clytemnestra's irresistible body. For long moments she vanishes completely underwater, only to emerge again wet and wonderful and now and again caressing me as much as I am her.

	Even as I am wondering how practically we might be able to make love beneath a waterfall as the cliché has it Eupraxia has waded to us and asks if I might be willing to wash her too.

	How can I refuse? I splash over to her and sense something odd. She's wet from the head down and there is a familiar scent in the air. A long lick up her tummy confirms it. Aristomache must have peed all over her, either before or after Eupraxia licked her. I purr my approval and lick her yummy tummy again. Suddenly I'm in shadow and Clytemnestra, no doubt having deduced the same as me is kissing and licking at Eupraxia's tiny breasts.

	I only wish I could reach that high.

	The next morning when we press on into the jungle I'm feeling really rather excited. Navigation shouldn't be a problem, all we have to do is keep moving in the same direction and we will hit the river sooner or later. Aristomache has a compass that will ensure we do just that.

	I'd once asked Clytemnestra if she had a compass and been told that if one doesn't care where one is going, there's no need for a compass, which about sums the woman up for good and ill.

	The Jungle is hard going, Clytemnestra and Aristomache take turns at the front of our party hacking through with Clytemnestra's colossal sword. They both consider Eupraxia a little weedy for the task and I'm not even worth talking about.

	For all that, though, I am feeling optimistic, Thick as it is, the Jungle seems entirely benign. Spiders, especially the giant, hairy, terrifying ones no doubt endemic to most jungles are unknown in this world, which is a great comfort to my mind.

	The other hazards and privations of jungle exploring are similarly lessened, my magic keeps the heat at bay and since poisonous plants and virulent sicknesses are all but unknown, we feel confident about eating any fruits which looks tempting, and many do.

	It seems only a matter of time until we will reach the river and be well on our way to Zoa.