Jungle Lust Ch. 01

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Female anthropologist gets rough tribal treatment.
7.6k words
4.26
109.8k
51

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 05/02/2017
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EdDivers
EdDivers
99 Followers

Melissa Freer, thirty-three years old, and an experienced anthropologist, had been cursing her own stupidity ever since the plane had crashed. She had been warned, but already knew, the dangers of this kind of expedition without full back-up. Yes, maybe she had been crazy to get excited over the rantings of an aged Indian. He had staggered out of the jungle, in what seemed a drunken state, displaying a massive erection, which only shrank when he died from his exposure. Before then, he had gabbled madly about short tribesmen and women, all with wrinkled faces, and who had strange sexual practices. That's what had really intrigued Melissa, because the study of tribal sexual rituals was one of her specialisms.

She was fascinated by the idea of discovering, and writing about this, virtually unknown, tribe who knew nothing of the 21st century, and had never seen a white person. The added fact of their sexual habits, was just too tempting. So, for the first time, apart from her guide, Jose, she was doing it on her own. Little did she know that her decision was going to involve her in this tribe's sexual practices more than she could ever imagine.

What might have happened if the pilot hadn't had a heart attack she would never know. Jose had managed to cut the engine and reduce the rate of fall just before a tree sliced one wing away and the plane had spun to the ground. Melissa had regained consciousness to find Jose skewered on a long bar that had snapped from overhead and plunged down into his chest. Even more frightening was the ring of ten, spear wielding warriors, all wrinkled faced, all almost half her five feet nine inches. While trying to control her nerves, Melissa knew she had found the tribe, by their wrinkled faces. More exactly, they had found her. Their black hair was shaved around the sides but was spiked on top. Naked dark skins had only a knee length piece of animal skin covering their genitals.

Without having any hands laid upon her, but no sign of friendship which she had known with other tribes, Melissa had been led, at spear-point, through the jungle to this village clearing. The whole tribe, men and women had surrounded her, pointing at her long golden hair, and the way her shirt jutted out. Many of the eyes were filled with pure lust, and the leader had signaled three tribeswomen, totally naked, slack breasted, with hairless pubes, to strip her.

Melissa was terrified at the sight of the knife in the hands of a naked tribeswoman, but she only used it to hack through Melissa's belt, and her jeans were immediately hauled down. Another woman tore away her shirt and flimsy panties, leaving her totally naked. Howls of delight from the forty or so tribesmen surrounding her, indicated that her height, her firm pink tipped breasts and her blonde bush were something they had never seen before. Exposed to their hungry lustful gaze, Melissa could see no escape from multi-rape.

Vaguely she recalled the pilot having said that the plane had a continual tracking device which gave its location at any time. Could someone already be searching for the plane? Standing there with all her goods on display, Melissa could only see this as a forlorn hope.

As she desperately tried to cover her mound, the tribesman she thought of as leader held up his spear and pointed it towards a hut at the far side of the clearing, and cried loudly "Kunga!" It was a word that Melissa was to hear often. She had noticed that the clearing was dotted with wood and leaf huts. Most were roofed by green palm fronds, virtually unnoticeable from the air, but the one indicated was bigger and was decorated in animal skins and bright bird feathers. Was this the leader's domain? Was he indicating where he was going to have her to himself? Melissa shuddered at the thought.

She also chilled at the reality of her bare body being gloated over by countless pairs of eyes, as once more the chief bellowed, "Kunga!" Then with just a slight pause he added, "Splunt!" This brought a roar from the tribesmen as the chief gave a fierce hip thrust, and flicked at the skin covering his groin leaving little doubt what that word meant. It seemed to confirm all Melissa's fears, especially when he called out a babble of instructions.

Immediately, a fourth woman joined the other three and the next second, with a woman clutching each arm, and the other two gripping her legs, Melissa found herself being lifted high above them. As she was carried she found that her legs were being held wide apart, as the women turned full circle giving a display of her pink folds to the whole tribe. There were roars of approval and cries of "Kunga! Kunga!"

To struggle would only inflame the tribesmen, who, she could see, even from this position, had their loin skins rising. Able to put her head back and get an upside-down view of their direction, she was surprised that it was not towards the decorated hut, but rather to where three flat stone slabs were prominent. The leader snapped another instruction, and Melissa's blood chilled as she saw trails of dried blood down the sides of the stones. At the central stone, Melissa was lowered on to her back. Sacrificed? Was she to be sacrificed? Oh, God, and a pleading whimper escaped her, as other women came with ropes of twisted vine.

One rope was run across her upper belly, and fastened somewhere on either side. A rope was tied to each ankle, and fastened, so that she lay with her legs spread wide, yet her arms were free. The leader stood between her legs, licking his lips as he stared down to her precious pink cavern. Desperately trying to plead for salvation, Melissa could see his groin skin begin to rise. Now he would—

But the leader stepped back, and issued further orders. Now eight of the warriors who had brought her from the aircraft ranged, four on one side of her and four on the other. They had discarded their spears, and Melissa, fearfully, wondered what they were going to do to her. Her breath was shuddering in her throat, but then eight women appeared, and each knelt in front of one of the warriors.

To Melissa's practiced mind this would have been a very interesting sexual practice, but, Jesus, she was part of it! As her eyes stared from side to side, the women tucked the groin covers of each warrior back to reveal already erect or semi erect cocks. In any other situation, Melissa might have giggled, for she was looking at erect cocks, maroon headed, but short and stubby, rather like a worn-down piece of crayon. What harm could they do her? Hell, they would scarcely tickle her generous channel.

Now the eight women went to work on the men, stroking, licking, clutching the erect cocks. The whole time, the warriors' eyes never left her body. The leader kept issuing little instructions, and as each man called out, the chief gave a nod. On that nod, each woman, without releasing her hold stood up alongside her man until all eight warriors were poised and leaning over Melissa's bared body with their pricks being directed towards her.

They weren't going to do that, were they? At a word, each of the erect cocks spewed forth their cream, one from either side across her face, one from either side across her breasts, one from either side across her upper belly and the final shots across her bush and upper thighs. My God, they might be tiny cocks but they could really spurt. Melissa felt the sticky, warm cum streaming across her body. Impulsively she raised her hands to wipe it from her face, but instantly her arms were gripped and held by a woman on either side.

The chief gave a nod and immediately the women moved over Melissa's body and, to her initial disgust, began licking up the cum on her face, her breasts, belly and bush. The pair licking around her breasts seemed to be getting more out of it than just the cum, as their tongue lingered and pressed around her nipples. There was little doubt that all the women enjoyed this activity. One of the women gathered the male seed on one finger, looked into Melissa's eyes, and sucked at her coated finger. In response, the woman opposite licked along Melissa's cheek, and smacked her lips hungrily.

Melissa felt her emotions move from disgust to a vague sense of pleasure as the tongues moved over almost every inch of her. When they finally stepped back, her skin was tingling. During the licking, she realized that, apart from the ruffling through her hair, and being lifted, no hand had really touched her bare skin.

The sudden shock of a load of water being thrown over her body momentarily startled her. Fortunately, it was not cold water and must have been ready. Even as she wondered why it was necessary, a second load struck across her and almost instantly women appeared with harsh blankets to rub her dry.

Melissa was trembling. Here she was tied to a stone slab, her legs spread, but her hands free. She had been coated with cum, licked, and had water thrown over her. Her most intimate parts had been displayed, yet there had been no move to touch them, apart from the tongues of the tribeswomen. Her anthropologist brain found this an intriguing state of affairs. But, as she had already observed, too personal for comfort. Something else was going to happen.

In tune with her thinking, the chief was suddenly standing between her spread legs, and with her trembling increasing and her heart thumping, Melissa could see how his groin patch was pushing outwards. So, this was where he was going to rape her, not in his hut. Well, his little crayon was hardly going to split her open, was it?

The chief stood above her, his eyes feasting over her breasts, and down to her pink folds. His tongue jutted out to lick his lips. God, what a tongue, Melissa thought, what would that be like in different circumstances?

Then she thought she was going to find out as, crouching low, the chief poked out his tongue so close to her entry, and without ever touching her, made licking and sucking motions until Melissa was wishing she really could experience that tongue. But within seconds, his eyes aflame with both lust and frustration, the chief stood up. But why wasn't he taking her if he was so lustful?

If it wasn't so serious, she might have laughed to think that she might have had more sexual pleasure from his tongue than his stubby cock, if it was like the warrior cocks had been. But at that moment, the chief, half turning towards the decorated hut, cried out, "Kunga! Kunga! Kunga! Splunt! Splunt! Splunt!" Oh, God, it was to be in his hut, but as she raised her head she saw that the warriors who had shot their cum over her body were now forming two lines like a guard of honour right up to the hut. The one she had been calling leader was kneeling in some form of supplication, facing the hut, as were all the other tribesmen and women.

Melissa held her breath as the covering over the doorway parted, and she gasped when the first person to emerge was a wizened little woman, different from the other women because she was covered by an animal skin. She looked very old, yet had to be someone special, as she held her hand back to someone else behind her.

A large hand appeared to clutch the hand of the old woman. Then a figure emerged slowly, stooping to get through the low opening, and a mighty chant went up from the whole tribe, "Kunga! Kunga! Kunga!" Melissa gaped as the figure straightened up to tower over all those around him. Her breath quickening, Melissa had to wonder how this could be possible. This man was well over six feet tall, made taller by being surrounded by such diminutive figures.

Dressed in jaguar skins and robe, with a head dress of bright bird feathers, Melissa had no doubt that this was Kunga, the real chief. The other had to be some kind of deputy. What an imposing man he was with his broad, shoulders, skin of a lighter shade, and a face of regular, near handsome features. As he released the old woman's hand, he bent to place his lips on the top of her near bald head. Astonished, Melissa could only guess at his history. It seemed obvious that the old woman was his mother. If that was the case, at some time in the past, she had given herself, or more likely been raped by a large man of less dark skin.

This Kunga was the result of that union. Now as he made his imperious way between the cheering masses his eyes were fixed straight ahead to where Melissa lay bound, and, she feared, awaiting his assault. Whereas the prospect of being fucked with a tiny wand that the tribesmen possessed held no qualms for her, what challenge would this huge specimen present?

As he approached, Melissa had time to consider how she should meet this nemesis. Accordingly, she sat up, taking her weight on her elbows, she had decided to try a smile, and show that she knew his name or title, that they all chanted. After all, lying there with breasts on show and her most potent offering wide open to him, how welcoming was that?

Then he was standing, close to where his deputy had faked his licking. Jesus, he had green eyes. Who could his father have been? Weirdly looking at the stirring masculinity of this man, Melissa was very aware that in this impossible situation, being taken by this man might be a lesser evil. But what would he want to do to her and what would happen afterwards? She gave him her smile, raised one hand in a vague salute, and tried to sound reverent, as she said, "Kunga."

For a moment, a surprised look crossed his face, but it was followed by the happiest expression she had seen since her arrival. Then his countenance became more serious as his deputy came alongside him, to mutter, "Splunt?" Melissa heard the word spoken as a question, and she shivered as those green eyes hovered on her breasts and then down to her pink layers, where her hole must surely be visible. His head nodded as though in response to the deputy's question, then he turned and his eyes fixed on her face.

Kunga slapped his chest with an open hand, and cried loudly, "Kunga!" His finger pointed directly at her, as he repeated the word and looked questioningly at her. Oh, that was promising, he wanted her name.

"Melissa," she said quietly.

"Me-lis-sa," he sounded it out, his head nodding, then he slapped his chest again, said an unrecognizable word, then held up ten fingers, then again, then once more, before holding up only four fingers. Melissa was only uncertain for a few seconds, then it dawned on her. Were his fingers indicating his age?

This seemed to be confirmed when he waggled his fingers loosely, pointed at her, and it sounded like a question when he said, "Melissa?"

Still a little uncertain, she tentatively held up ten fingers, repeated the action twice more before holding up only three. Instantly she knew her deduction had been correct as the chieftain nodded his head, gave a half smile and nodded, He said something to the scowling Zana, pointing his finger between himself and Melissa.

There was little doubt about his next statement, "Kunga splunt Melissa." And his hand went to his covered groin region. So now she knew exactly what it meant. He repeated it, "Kunga splunt Melissa." He pointed at his deputy, "Zana camut Melissa."

Melissa winced at the lip licking look the deputy, now Zana, gave her. What did camut mean? But Kunga hadn't finished. He waved a hand imperiously over the warrior guards who had fallen in to follow him, said a word and added, "Tetta Melissa." A mighty cheer went up from the warrior guards. Oh, Jesus God, what was he telling them? She'd hoped he would want to keep her to himself. Being shared was not at all what she wanted.

Kunga had moved around to one side of the stone and he placed a hand on Melissa's cheek. She would never know why, but she cringed away from the very first hand to sensuously touch her that day. Kunga frowned but lowered a hand to squeeze at one breast. The squeeze was a little too hard to be loving, and Melissa's fears rose once again, as she shrugged sideways. Kunga frowned, then he turned to two of the waiting women and spoke abruptly to them. One moved forward and took his jaguar covering away, while the other pulled at ties at the top of his robe.

Meanwhile, Kunga had removed the feathered crown from his head and passed it to one of the tribesmen. His robe was whipped away by the woman and his whole naked body was exposed to Melissa's eyes. His erection was not complete but Melissa shuddered at the size of it. As she gazed at it, one of the women reached out to stroke it, obviously, a habit in such situations.

Kunga knocked the hand away, leaned closer to Melissa, pointed at his cock and said, "Melissa." Now he reached for her hand, obviously wanting her to bring him to erection. Melissa drew her hand away, intending to play a little game of 'hard-to-get'. But Kunga gave a low growl and stalked away to stand once more between her legs.

He placed his hands roughly on her thighs, rubbing up towards her fleshy parts, but then retreating as he called out, "Meckdok." Almost instantly a tribesman appeared, clutching a small clay urn, which he handed to Kunga. Melissa watched him take a mouthful of whatever liquid was there. Handing it back to the tribesman, he pointed to Melissa, and said something.

Melissa had no intention of drinking some unknown substance so she turned her head away. Next moment her head was gripped by a pair of powerful hands while another hand gripped her nose and tilted her head back. The moment she gasped for air, the urn was at her lips and a small amount of the liquid was flowing down her throat.

It didn't taste too bad, something spicy, she thought. While that thought took root, she saw Kunga's cock spring to full erection, amazingly quickly, worryingly large. Suddenly the fluid was a ball of fire burning its way to her core, waves of heat extended from it, and her blood flowed hotly around her body. Deep down, there was a pulsing that she did not recognize, moistness seeped between her thighs, and inner muscles began pulling at something that wasn't there. Suddenly the prospect of that native cock was not so worrying. No, she craved it.

Raising her head, she saw Kunga leaning down reaching between her legs with one hand while the other waved his stiff cock at her. Oh, yes, that was her need. Her mind was fuddled by her sudden desire. The head of that glorious cock was purple, not maroon, like the tribesmen. The next instant she was giving out a screech of delight as Kunga darted a finger up inside her, then another finger, and he was twisting them around like a flue brush, driving her into a wild frenzy of longing. How quickly this state had come over her. Her swift passionate acceptance of his touch could only be down to this concoction, this meckdok. God, she was hot. Desperate to have the growing avid emptiness down there filled up, she cried out, "Splunt. Ooh, splunt."

Kunga gave a hearty laugh of triumph, removed his fingers, placed his huge purple cockhead at her entry and with one mighty heave plunged into the very depths of her being. Melissa was driven into instant ecstasy. Kunga was filling her, his cock was immense. Every fibre of her inner passage flared at the massive rod heaving along it. His cock drew back just a little before it plunged up again, and her own hips bucked to receive it. How could this wonderful sensation be her receiving a massive cock so gratefully from a wild tribesman? She was no stranger to good sex, but this—her cunny had never known such ecstasy.

One more lunge and she was gone. It was like being caught up in a raging torrent, as she was vaguely aware of the yells of "Splunt! Splunt!" from the watching tribesmen. While her insides were being totally serviced, she drifted away, on a crazed tide of delight. As she slowly came out of it, she saw Kunga, leaning over her, still riding his rod deep into her. Thrust after thrust, but then just as quickly he had pulled completely out of her leaving her cranny so empty. Turning her head, she saw that many of the tribesmen spectators were playing with their small cocks.

EdDivers
EdDivers
99 Followers