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.
