Thirst

I walked over to her, and she spread her legs wide. Showing me her tuft of hair, and her soft, brown pussy, again. Her wide hips, and large natural breasts looked more inviting than any woman ever had. "But, you don't like men, do you?"

"Shhh." She said, and grabbed my hand, pulling me down onto her. "You may fuck me however you like, so long as you finish your drink." I realized, finally, what was happening. She thought that I was going to fail to finish the glass, and risk permanently damaging my body due to dehydration, and was trying to motivate me to save myself. Even though she had no interest in me sexually, she just wanted to help me.

"Priya, I don't..." I began, wanting to clarify, that I didn't need any help, and was rather enjoying the whole event, including the drinking glass, which, I now assumed, was either not part of the normal ritual, or was some kind of playful pseudo punishment that would normally be reserved for a woman who needed to prove herself, in some way. I wanted to explain that, as a man, women sharing their come with me was an honor, not a punishment. But, before I could finish my sentence, she pulled me downward with a jerk, so violently I nearly spilled my drink. She grabbed my dick, and shoved it into her pussy, then, and used her legs to squeeze me into her.

"Drink, drink." She urged, as I started to pump in and out of her. I chugged the rest of the drink, another twelve ounces of pure woman. It shot down into my stomach, and made me feel whole again. The intense flavor, combined with Priya's tight wetness, also made me climax. I dropped the glass, and pulled my dick out of Priya's soaking pussy, and began to come. Priya, to my surprise, got her face in front of my dick, and caught all of my come, and swallowed it. Probably it was just my mind misapprehending the situation in my shattered state, and mixing my feelings of gratitude for her helping in saving my life, and attraction, but I thought, for a moment, that maybe we could have something, I even felt love for her, deep, longing love. But, she got up, and, as she put on her clothes, she winked at me, smiled, and said, "Don't get any ideas." And with that, she left the tent.

Chapter 6

I didn't know what to do after that. I was going to be okay, I'd drank at least a liter of these women, but I got the feeling they didn't really want anything to do with me, beyond saving my life. So, I lay down on the cot. As I drifted off to sleep, I mused that I actually had died of thirst in the desert, and this was all just my afterlife, or my final thoughts. A final, glorious fever dream, as I drifted off into oblivion, forever.

I started hearing echoes. I'm not sure how much time had passed, but I kept hearing voices echoing outside. I thought, they must be bouncing off of the cliff walls in the desert. I sat up on the cot. It was almost entirely dark. The voices were of the women, chanting, dancing outside, around the fire. The echoes, though, made no sense. There were no walls in the desert. I looked out of the tent. No walls. The echoing stopped. The women were acting strangely. They were giggling, girlishly. Some of them sat and watched Deepa spin a flaming ball on a rope. I had not idea why they were so awed. I looked around, some more. I walked up to Jaya, and asked, "What's going on?" She ignored me. Then I started to realize how echoes were possible.

As I looked at the scrubby patches of dry desert grasses surrounding the camp site, I noticed they were growing, and getting taller. Now they were about waist high. Surely these were what the sounds echoed off of. Then, it hit me, that these weren't real, I as if on drugs. The plants weren't actually growing, as I watched them, there, in the shadow created by the dancing women, blocking the fire light. I knew that, since this must be true, the waist high plants would disappear, the second the women danced by, and the light hit them. They would then go back to being tiny, four inch tall grasses. The women danced by, and the light spilled onto the grasses. They didn't disappear. Instead, they cast shadows.

I yelled, "Hey, what are these!?" at the group. No one answered. I walked up to where the three women were watching Deepa perform, and waved my hands around. No one noticed. Though, I started to notice why they were so enthralled with Deepa: the fire ball was leaving long tails behind it, as it flew around. They hung in the air, for an impossibly long time, before catching up to the fireball. It was like watching a comet in outer space. For some reason, I still felt pretty happy, even as it dawned on me: I'm dead. I didn't survive. I died in the forest. My ghost floated over here and watched an orgy. That's why none of them acknowledged me, nor spoke to me, beyond sexual requests that could have been meant for someone else. Wait! One of them did! I ran over to Priya, and said, "Tell me I'm not dead." Half-jokingly, assuming she'd laugh. She didn't respond. I dreamed that whole thing up. I was a ghost.

There were worse places to be bound. If I was doomed to forever haunt the orgies of beautiful lesbians, so be it. I walked around the fire, and off into the desert, a bit. The chill air, so far away from the fire, bit into my skin. I wondered, why would cold bother a dead man? It didn't matter. I looked up at the stars. They ran together, like milk droplets dropped into a gently moving stream. I accepted my fate, and went back to the tent, and laid down on the cot, ready for true oblivion, this time.

Chapter 7

In the morning, they acted like nothing had happened. No one would answer my questions, but I didn't feel dead any longer. They could clearly see me, but just didn't want to talk to me. Everything looked perfectly normal, as well, even the grass was its normal height. They packed up all of the camping gear, and the trek began.

As we walked, Priya dropped behind with me, as I was ten feet or so behind the rest. She explained, "I'm sorry for ignoring you last night." Her beautiful, melodic voice, coupled with her accent melted all of my anger, and frustration about the night before, and this morning, toward her. "You were not supposed to be part of our amanita ritual, you understand?"

"Muscaria!?" I asked, surprised. She nodded. "Half of us, who don't feel bad effects from them, eat them. The other half, get the drug during the orgy, where we all drink each other when we orgasm strong enough to squirt. We also share each other's spit, as minute amounts of the drug come through that way, as well." She explained.

I was puzzled, and responded, "How is that possible, that all of you would then be on the drug for the ritual? I've read about the ancient rituals. People would drink the piss of those who ate the mushrooms, and get high, without the negative effects, but what I drank last night tasted like water. Well, water and pussy. Either way, it was squirt, and definitely not piss!"

She smiled, and said, "It's true that squirt is almost entirely water, with a small portion of the liquid being made up of female come from the skene's gland, which gives it its unique, and alluring flavor, but there is a small amount of urine left in it. It is so diluted that squirt has almost no color, no smell, and only a faint taste, which, as you noticed, is the taste of female come. This is why it works exactly the way we want it to; it carries only a small amount of the drug to pass on to the others, when they drink it. And this is just enough of a muted dose, for the more sensitive women."

"Or a huge dose to me, when I drink all of it." I returned, with a smile.

"Exactly. This night, several of the women had to eat the mushrooms themselves, and all missed out on the water half of the ritual, which made them unhappy. We all agreed to give you every single drop of liquid from the orgy, and so, many were jealous of you. Others, simply don't like men, particularly. But, in the end, we all enjoyed ourselves, and saved a life in the process." She smiled then, and her soft skin, and silky black hair were truly radiant in the daylight. I tried to tell myself that my feelings for here weren't real, again, reminding myself, they, surely, were just due to her having helped save me. "I did check on you a few times, while you slept though, if that makes you feel any better." She finished, with another smile. She walked back up to the group, leaving me to follow behind. They allowed me to follow them, all the way back to civilization, got me back to my hotel, and left me there.

Epilogue:

I never saw them again. Back in normal life, everything had the volume turned down. I had nearly died. I had been saved in a way that no one would ever believe. I remembered my musings that final night: I didn't even believe it, as it was happening! I flew back home, went back to work, and got back into my normal routine. The only difference was, I had to explain to every single coworker, and every single friend why my face was so messed up, until it eventually healed. I lied and lied, because the truth would never be accepted: I came inches from death due to dehydration, in the desert, and was saved by a hallucinogenic lesbian squirt orgy. I tried to just forget about it. Though, sometimes my mind still drifted to those hazy, watery memories. Months went by, and everything was back to normal, for me. It still ate at me, that no one would ever know, and so, I wrote it out, and, now, some actually do know what truly happened to me.

Ironically, now, that I'm writing it out, I can't help but dwell on things I'd managed to mostly leave behind. While I had been lying to everyone, it was easier to let it go, but, everything, now, was painfully real; I would never see her again. The one who had truly seemed to care about me, deeply. The one who had done all she could, and spent as much time as she could, trying to help me. It wasn't just mixed up feelings, it was real.

I would never see Priya again.

This is part One of the "How Pussy Saved My Life" series. Check out parts 2 and 3 to see what else happens to our hero!