Raiders of the Temple

As the pleasure of another wave of ecstasy rocked her, Missy giggled inwardly. Someone is screaming in English, by God! Listen to her, “Fuck me, fuck me, oh fuck me!” she screams. Oh dear, I believe that is me screaming. And then darkness took her.

Melissa Hampton stretched languidly and yawned. Her face seemed to be stuck to the flesh of a young savage’s belly by some dried substance. She dimly glanced at her body and noticed there was quite a bit of it covering her, and it seemed to be... good God! Sitting bolt upright, Missy looked at her body covered with dried man-seed, her hair was tangled and matted with it. Around her in the dim light, she could see the still bodies of the celebrants and she wondered how many of them she herself had tired out. Here and there she could see shapes moving in a lustful rhythm, couples seeking a last drop of pleasure before passing to unconsciousness.

She rose carefully and made her way through the bodies, looking for Dr. Traeger. Her heart leapt when she finally found him, tangled in amongst a group of young savages. She reached over carefully and slapped his face once, softly. Then again, slightly harder. On the third attempt, his hand leapt up and grasped her wrist like an iron vise. His eyes shot open, and seeing her, he smiled.

He slipped from the tangle of bodies and together they skirted the room and ran up the passage. It wasn’t long before they came to a passage he recognized, and they moved quickly through the age-worn passages and out into the early morning mist.

She ran to her tent, and though her things were in a state, she gathered together a pair of pants and a rough shirt. She dressed quickly and ran out barefoot to meet Traeger, running toward her.

Together they took off at a run into the jungle, and by evening they fell exhausted together. They were up again before daybreak and running again through the dense growth. It had all seemed so much more beautiful to her…before.

After two days, they allowed themselves to slow down a pace, and they spoke a little of what had happened. On the day the stepped from the jungle into the clearing behind a clapboard shack, Dr. Traeger stopped her and looked deeply into her eyes.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to go back?”

“Let’s go home…together.”

And they did. The newspapers carried the stories of their harrowing adventure, the trek through the jungle, the attack by the natives, their torture and escape (though they revealed nothing of their actual experiences there). Finally back in New York City, Melissa Hampton in a fine suite of the Waldorf-Astoria, answered the door after hearing a knock.

“Why Dr. Traeger! Whatever can I do for you?” But Traeger pushed her back into the room and shut the door, then locked it. “Listen here, I saw what happened back there, more even than you did,” he began approaching her slowly, “And I know what kind of woman you really are.”

“Do you now?” she replied, backing away from him carefully. “But Dr. Traeger, this is civilization, and we cannot behave as would animals here.”

Traeger leapt forward and stifled her scream by throwing her roughly over his shoulder. “This,” he said, waving his arms to encompass the room, “This is civilization.”

He strode forcefully over to one of the doors in the suite and kicked it open, almost splintering is asunder. He stepped into the room and threw her down roughly onto the vast expanse of feather bed. “This is our jungle,” he whispered as he began to remove his belt, “and you will behave exactly as I wish you to here.”

Missy kicked out her left foot, but he caught it by the ankle, and pulled the shiny black pump from her foot, and tossed it to the floor. He ran his fingers up the length of her silk stockinged leg and Missy fell back with a moan.

“Yes, that’s my little slut-whore,” he breathed, and pulled the pump from her other foot, He reached up and grabbed her expensive blouse by the collar, then pulled, tearing it free from her body, and sending little pearl buttons clattering across the room. Next came the skirt, torn irreparably. He seemed puzzled for a moment about how to unfasten her garter belt to allow the removal of her silken panties, but lust filled his eyes and he ripped the panties off, leaving the garter belt intact.

He jumped onto her, his hand pressing against, his fingers pressing into, her womanhood and her moans and scent filled the air. He covered her mouth with his, and pulled at the material of her bodice, freeing her breasts. His free hand kneaded and squeezed their tender flesh while his tongue danced with hers inside her mouth.

Missy pushed down and unbuttoned his trousers, freeing the massive member from them. Then as she had learned in the jungle, she took him into her mouth and delighted in the motions that made him shiver and jump. She took as much of him into her mouth as she could, then swiftly inserted her thumb’s length past his anus. He groaned in pleasure and looked down at through heavy-lidded eyes.

“You weren’t the only one who learned in the jungle, my dear Doctor,” she purred, smiling up at him wickedly. Only a few moments later he threw her onto her back and with all the force his hips could muster, drove his member into her. Missy cried out at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure, and locked her ankles behind him. They pounded into each other with ferocity and she clawed at his back and shoulders like a panther cat. With some satisfaction she noted that he left blood on the sheets as they tumbled across the bed in their passionate embrace.

Finally he rolled her onto her back and raised himself up, bending her back nearly double, and began a pounding rhythm to match the song sung in a faraway temple. Missy found herself screaming like the panther cat she had tried to emulate before, kicking her heels again and again into his lower hack and hard bottom. His hands locked onto her shoulders and with a final thrust, he too bellowed like a lion, and his seed poured forth is great spurts, filling her, then gushing from around his member onto the sheets. The waves of pleasure ran through her, leaving Missy feeling not altogether different than she had when drugged.

Mark Traeger collapsed onto Melissa Hampton’s sweat-covered body with a wet, slapping sound then he rolled over and off of her. “I do believe I shall have bruises,” she said, examining her shoulders where he had grabbed her last.

“Yes, well at least you won’t need bandages,” he said, and wincing at the pain as he moved, “or stitches.”

He rose and cast about for his clothes. Missy had a terrible, sinking feeling. “Will I see you again?” she asked, sounding quite as feeble as a schoolgirl she was sure.

“Sweetheart,” Traeger said with a smirk, “Where else am I going to find a wealthy patroness for my explorations, a fine lady to accompany to a faculty dinner, and a filthy savage whore to sate my every lustful thought, all rolled into one?”

With a confident smile, and a lust rekindled, Melissa Hampton looked deeply into Dr. Mark Traeger’s eyes. “Only here, in the jungle, with me.”