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Saint Oghamus threw down his hammer with a grunt of frustration. All morning he’d spent cutting the damned rock into nicely shaped letters and now, just as he was getting to Q who should come out of her cave especially to antagonise him but none other than F, the woman he’d been studiously avoiding all morning.

“I know you are avoiding me” she said sweetly “But I don’t care!”

She was the most aggravatingly attractive woman you can imagine and Oghamus found himself arousing readily.

“Not ignoring, have work to do!” he told her gruffly.

F smirked, almost baring a nipple, almost asking for it openly.

“Silly old work……”

Lightly she ran her fingers across the face of the stone, obliterating the carefully chalked outlines of the Q.

“Its very hard……” she suggested looking sideways at him from beneath newly dusted lashes.

“Go away!” Oghamus suggested.

“Please?” he added.

F flickered her eyelashes at him once again.

It was the very latest fashion craze she was wearing, he noticed clearly. A doeskin thing with the fur on the inside and holes cut in misleadingly suggestive places. The very latest from the Caves of Altamira catalogue he’d flicked through only that morning.

Secretly (and don’t you go telling anyone this) he enjoyed looking the pictures of the models in that catalogue, especially the dark skinned ones. For some reason they always seemed to have much larger breasts. Not like little F here who was no more than a slip of a girl, as frail as a reed and no good whatever as a potential carrier of one’s progeny.

“I want to watch!” F said “See how it’s done, how you make those little marks”

Oghamus grunted.

He waved his chisel at her hopefully while under his robe his member waved at her with even greater hope.

F picked up the hammer he’d thrown on the ground and handed it to him suggestively, handle first with her little hand cupping the stone head of it carefully.

“Ooooh!” she breathed “That’s a big one……”

He wanted to tell her to fuck off but as he hadn’t made the U yet he couldn’t. In fact the way things were going he wouldn’t ever get any further than the P which lay there unpolished at his feet. Asterisks wouldn’t do, they had no impact. None at all! In fact they’d been so light when he’d done them, over a week ago, that the first light shower of rain had washed them all away.

“Go on!” F urged “Carve something!”

It was a nipple he saw when he looked at her again, a small brownish bump of a thing placed centrally on that larger bump of a thing half covered by that expensive and cunningly contrived bit of doeskin.

With the fur on the inside.

“Go……away……” he suggested again pleadingly.

“Silly old letters!” F said suddenly “All that work, all that dust, all that frustration! And for what?”

“For the advancement of civilisation of course!” Oghamus said “That’s for what!”

“Huh!” F grunted. The whole breast was exposed now and yes, it was true, that little brown nipple was exactly central. One of the damn letters is like that, Oghamus thought to himself, but he couldn’t recall which one.

“Civ’lization” F curdled “There won’t be one if you stand there like that, doing nothing!”

“I wasn’t doing nothing, as you so ……so……as you put it!” Oghamus stammered “I was damn well carving the alphabet……”

“So you were”

“And without an alphabet civilisation can’t advance……”

“No……”

“Course not!”

F put the hammer carefully on the ground at his feet and in doing so she exposed her other breast to his gaze. In fact she uncovered all her upper works purposefully.

Both little brown nipples were exactly central he saw when she stood up.

Bloody typical, he thought, with one side of his brain. All that hard earned money wasted on a garment which doesn’t even keep up when you move around in it.

Hell I want to fuck her, he thought with the other side of his brain. Fill her up with my seeds and give her half a dozen children. It was a left brain, right brain concept which hadn’t been invented yet but Oghamus knew instinctively it soon would be.

“An civ’lization can’t advance without people either!” F told him, tugging at the curling up edges of the doeskin half heartedly.

Soon she’d be able to take it off completely. In a few more minutes, five at the most she reckoned. Then she’d be rid of it.

“People is want we want!” she tried again “Not an alphabet cut out of lumps of stone……”

Oghamus sighed. Already he could see his idea of going on to carve numbers out of the remaining lump of limestone as soon as he’d finished the letters fading fast. No 1 or 7 or 0, no 69, no…… Q! That was it! Q! He had to get on with it.

“Go away!” he said firmly “Right away! I must get on!”

F stepped back a pace.

“Civ’lization as we know it is doomed!” she told him wantonly. Stone dust peppered her little breasts, adding to their depth and shape and roundness. Accentuating the little brown nipples.

“Doomed!” she repeated.

“Binary!” Oghamus announced, as if it was a magic charm to frighten her away. “I haven’t even got to the binary codes yet……and here it is Wednesday already!”

He tugged his beard furiously Damn the girl Damn damn damn!

“Doomed!” F repeated “’cos you’re too stuck in your ways!”

“How will we ever advance……”

“Do I have to spell it out to you?”

“What? Oghamus stared at her momentarily stunned.

“You can’t!” he said “There aren’t enough letters! I’ve only got as far as P!”

F looked at him disgustedly. Weeks and weeks of chipping and chiselling, hacking and hewing and he’d only got as far as P! Not even as far as U! Well that made it damned difficult if not impossible. There’d be no ‘cum’, no ‘cunt’, no ‘fuck’, not even any ‘intercourse’. Damn the man! Damn damn and damn!

“If you just went away” Oghamus attempted again “Right away, instead of trying the patience of the saints, of which I am one as you know, then perhaps I might finish the alphabet……”

“Including the U?”

“Of course including the U!”

“Then we can fuck?”

“If you insist!” Oghamus said.

………………

Ten days later she came to him, specially washed, dried and scented with all her hair neatly brushed. She taken delivery of the very latest fashion skin only that morning, a fetching creation by Sugg of the Dordogne comprising little more than a few emu feathers and a strip of teddy bear hide. With the fur on the inside, naturally.

Anticipation heated her, fertility moistened her and the strip of teddy bear tickled tantalisingly the one or two places between her legs it actually managed to touch her. She felt momentous, powerful, a significant part in the great, great scheme of things.

Mrs Oghamus opened the cave door when she rang the bell.

“Oh it’s you!” she said deprecatingly “Yeah, he said you were coming……”

“I’m not……oh I see what you mean!” F said.

Mrs Ogham was a big woman, probably the biggest woman in the entire tribe. If I told you she resembled, somewhat, a rather disreputable woolly mammoth you’d know what I meant, wouldn’t you?

No she didn’t have a trunk or any horns, which was surprising given her demeanour but she might have had a tail, there was plenty of room for one…...

“Better come in then!” Mrs Oghamus said “Before the neighbours start complaining”

She peered at F over the top of her round, John Lennon glasses.

“Zat one of them Sugg designs out of the south o’ France?” she asked.

F nodded happily. She got it in specially.

“An’ that stink you’re wearin’! Ain’t that some kind o’ musk?”

“Civet I think” F replied thoughtfully.

She peered around in the gloom of the cave but couldn’t see saint Oghamus anywhere.

“Civet!” Mrs Oghamus snorted “Never smelled no civet like that one. That’ll have been squeezed out of a dead dingo’s cunt……!”

Oh well, F comforted herself, if this is the kind of woman the human race is dependant on for its betterment then so be it. Can’t say I blame the old Saint for not being here……

“’E’s upstairs if you want ‘im!” Mrs Oghamus said.

“Oh!”

“Yeah, an’ you can oh all you like, the walls up there are thick enough to deaden the sound but I’ll thank you not t’ give ‘im too many ‘eart attacks all at once!”

………………

F found the staircase in one corner, behind a cleverly draped yak hide curtain still bearing the hooves, tails and heads. In the gloomy lobby she narrowly avoided falling over the sleeping Teasmade, which did not wake when she swore at it softly, and the misplaced leather bound volume of Proust, which she noticed wasn’t even a first edition, then hardly daring to breathe she mounted the stairs.



The Saint lay in the middle of a huge, furs covered platform, stark naked but with his beard carefully plaited. Candles burned in sconces and incense smouldered and wreathed from strategically placed dishes. Somewhere in the gloom a gazehound scratched for fleas while a Lymer lay curled in a basket sound asleep. Go on, you can find a dictionary if you really want to. If not try T.H White’s Sword in the Stone. Tell you what – we’ll leave them to it shall we? In peace to screw their lives away. No?

You want to know how they got on?

Do you really?

OK.

The Saint lay in the middle of etc. He raised his head and looked towards F when he heard her on the stairs.

“Your wife told me to come up” she said timidly, feeling everso small and vulnerable the moment she caught sight of his saintly dick.

Oghamus laughed, the sound reverberating around the room like a drum beat.

“I got all the way to X!” he told her “Damned X! I was finishing off the polishing of it when one leg of it broke off……”

“So you haven’t finished yet?”

Oghamus nodded.

“Finished and done and begun on the numbers and y’now how there is only ten of them”

“Yes……?”

“Well I left the apprentice to do ‘em!”

F jiggled. Her tits hurt and a little trickle of something was starting to run down one leg.

“U’s ok is it?” she asked carefully.

“I’se couldn’t be better!” Oghamus joked.

“So……so what about the broken X?”

The saint let go another volley of laughs. The Lymer awoke and stared yapping and distantly Mrs Oghamus bellowed something from downstairs.

“Do we want tea bringing up yet?” Oghamus asked. “That’s what she’s asking”

F nodded distractedly “But what about the X?”

“Sugar? The saint enquired sweetly.

“No sugar” F said.

“The X……?”

“Its like this my dear” Oghamus told her when she climbed on the bed “I came to the conclusion that any alphabet with two Y’s in it couldn’t be all bad so I’ve invented something new, which I’ve called genetics after……whatevers that stink?”

“Civet!” F snarled ripping off her very expensive Sugg “Or dead dingo pussy if you prefer!”

“Wonderful!” Saint Oghamus said. “I like it a lot!”

………………

Ten days later Mrs Oghamus came upstairs with the tea.

“Damned campfire went out and the kettle froze to a log!” she said. It was the same excuse she always used when things didn’t go right for her.

The saint and F lay tangled together in a steaming heap at one end of the bed. Two dogs lay sprawled at the other. All appeared utterly exhausted and contented.

Mrs Oghamus put the tea tray down carefully, patted both dogs and gave each of them a biscuit. She glared at the scattered X’s and Y’s littering the floor of the bedroom and knew what they’d been up to instantly. So she took off her smelly fur skirt and top, which she’d made herself some weeks previously. Her tits hurt and a trickle of something fiery was beginning to explore her left inner thigh when she clambered onto the bed beside the glowing hulk of her husband.

“Wake up you old bugger!” she yodelled sexily, “That was only your starter, now here is the main course and it’s not been well done at all yet!”

Knackered or not, saint he might be but she, as a significant part of the human race, hadn’t even begun to develop the newly invented concept called genetics with old Oghamus yet.

** Artistic licence no. 332827175

© Aahlu. 170211.