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 4
The drive into Pueblo de las Piedras was long and sweltering, the late morning sun turning the jungle roads into shimmering waves of heat. Faye had the windows down, hoping the warm breeze would do something to cool the sticky dampness clinging to her skin. It didn't help much. Every inch of her still felt flushed, sensitive.
She kept replaying the dream from the night before--the ancient temple, the women in a circle, the slow, deliberate movements of their bodies. The woman with a body like hers, meeting her gaze in the moment of climax.
She shifted in her seat, adjusting her legs. She was still wet.
Jenny exhaled beside her, fanning her shirt. "God, it's hot," she groaned. Then, after a moment, she said, "I've been having the wildest dreams lately."
Faye tensed, keeping her eyes on the dirt road ahead. "Oh?"
Jenny turned toward her, pulling one leg up onto the seat. "Yeah. Super erotic. Like, crazy vivid." She hesitated, then laughed. "Honestly, I wake up soaking wet."
Faye's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, flustered by her colleague's raw honesty.
"Must be the jungle heat," she said, forcing her voice to stay even.
Jenny hummed. "Yeah... or maybe those carvings are getting to us. There' something about them I can't explain."
Faye felt her stomach lurch, but she just gave a non-committal nod. No way was she admitting she'd been having the same kinds of dreams.
The village was small, the roads dusty, the air thick with the scent of grilled meat, ripe fruit, and sunbaked stone. They parked near a modest storefront, where an older woman was setting out baskets of freshly washed laundry.
Inside, the shop was dim and cool, with a crude stone floor, lined with wooden shelves stacked with folded linens and tubs of soaking clothes.
Jenny chatted with the washerwomen in Spanish as they handed over their heavy sacks of laundry. Faye, standing back, let her gaze wander absently--until she noticed one of the women holding up a pair of her panties.
She was an older woman, mid-fifties maybe, with graying hair tied back in a bun. She lifted the cotton undergarment between her fingers, examining them with a smirk before bringing them up to her nose. She inhaled deeply, then said something to Jenny in a teasing, knowing tone.
Faye's stomach tightened.
Jenny blinked in surprise, then grinned.
"What... what did she say?" Faye stuttered. Her Spanish was faltering, unlike Jenny who was practically fluent.
"Oh, uh... she says your... well, she says your cunt smells strong and fertile."
Faye's face burned.
The washerwoman laughed, the lines on her face deepening, rubbing her fingers across the crotch of the panties.
Jenny translated again. "She says with your scent you should be careful. Men will never leave you alone."
Faye's jaw clenched. She grabbed the nearest piece of folded fabric--someone's clean towel--and threw it over the pile of laundry. "Let's go."
With the washerwoman laughing in the background, Jenny followed her out.
Needing a distraction, Faye found a public phone and dialed home.
Her mother picked up first.
"Faye, finally," she sighed. "I was starting to think you'd vanished into the jungle."
Faye smiled despite herself. "Sorry. Reception's been impossible out here."
