Author's Note: All characters in this story are over 18, and all acts are consensual. This is a primal tale of a 37-year-old archaeologist's descent into desire--a slow build that unravels into something gritty, raw, taboo and extreme at times.
Expect explicit sex, fertility rituals, size kinks, exhibitionism, lesbian encounters, group sex, gaping, natural bodies and the supernatural--not your typical perky, tight MILF fantasy.
If that sounds like your thing, step inside. If not, best give it a miss.
Chapter 1
The jungle air was thick and damp, clinging to Professor Faye Sinclair's skin like a second layer. The midday sun filtered through the canopy in fractured beams, illuminating the carved stone beneath her fingertips. Around her, the dense jungle pulsed with life--the distant call of a howler monkey, the rhythmic chatter of cicadas, the occasional rustle of unseen creatures moving through the undergrowth. The clearing where the ruins lay had fewer trees, allowing sunlight to reach the ground, where the scent of damp earth mixed with the musk of decaying leaves and the faint sweetness of blooming orchids. The air was rich here, almost intoxicating, the smell of ancient soil stirred by their excavation.
She wiped a strand of chestnut hair from her brow, blinking as she took in the intricate details of the relief she had uncovered on the side of a wall. The carved figure was unmistakably feminine--hips wide, full, low hanging breasts, a slight softness to the stomach, legs spread open in a display that felt both reverent and obscene.
Unnervingly lifelike despite the erosion of time, the worn smoothness of the stone suggested it had been touched--perhaps even worshiped--for generations. The expression on the woman's face was serene, but something in the sultry curve of her lips and exaggerated opening between her legs, suggested something more primal, erotic.
Faye knew what she was looking at. A fertility carving, no question. But the woman's body drew her in-- perhaps because it looked like her own.
She exhaled slowly, pushing away the strange tension curling in her stomach. It was just another artifact, another glimpse into a lost civilization's rituals. And yet... she hesitated. Why did this one feel different?
She reached out, fingertips gliding over the curves of the stone, tracing the wide, open space carved into the woman's form. The stone was warmer here. She frowned, pressing her palm flat against it. That had to be her imagination--the heat of the jungle, the way the sun had warmed the temple walls--but still, it sent a faint, inexplicable shiver down her spine.
For a moment, she swore she felt something else--a pulse, a whisper of energy, like something deep beneath the ruins was stirring. A dull ache settled low in her belly, subtle but insistent. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily.
She swallowed, suddenly aware of the heaviness of the air, of the sweat tracing slow lines down her back, pooling between her breasts.