Adventures of Montana Quimm

Deep in the forest of the Sumava National Park, the young Czech park ranger groaned and braced himself against his truck as Montana Quimm, the gorgeous twenty-four year old brunette adventuress kneeling before him, slid her plump wet lips up and down his thick dick, spit dribbling down off his shaft and onto the tops of her ripe breasts, which were practically busting out of her tight blue tank top. She looked up at him, raised her eyebrows, and slid her mouth slowly down to the base of his dick, sending its throbbing head sinking into her tight, slick throat. Then she arched her back, giving him a nice view of her round ass and the straps of her thong popping up out of her tiny khaki shorts. The park ranger groaned again as he felt her tongue slide out over her lower lip and down onto his scrotum, her spit pouring down over his balls.

Still looking up at him, her eyes bright and eager, Montana reached up, pressed his hands against the side of his truck, and began bobbing back and forth, her long brown braid bouncing against her back as she fucked his sensitive cockhead with the slippery opening of her throat. This was more than the ranger could take, and with a final groan he came, his thick dick pulsing against Montana's lips as it began spurting thick jets of cum right into her throat. His hips bucked forward involuntarily, somehow stuffing even more of his thick dickmeat into Montana's mouth, and he felt her throat contracting around his climaxing member as she swallowed his gushing cumload in a series of gulps. When he was finally spent, the ranger collapsed back against his vehicle, and Montana skillfully pulled back off his meatpole, slurping the last drops of semen off his pulsing purple dickhead and finishing it off with a dainty kiss right on the tip.

With a grin and a giggle, Montana climbed to her feet, licked her lips, and laid her hands on the ranger's shoulders as he looked at her with beatific satisfaction. "Thanks again for driving me out here," she said brightly, in lightly accented Czech. "I told you I'd make it worth your while."

The park ranger, as though suddenly remembering his professional status, cleared his throat, looked around, and stood at attention, tucking his softening dick back into his pants. "Just, uh, doing my duty, miss," he said.

Montana laughed. "Well, if you can make it your duty to be back here to pick me up in forty-eight hours, I'll make it my duty to give you the best titfuck of your life. How's that sound?"

The ranger grinned. "You can count on me, miss," he said, watching her magnificent breasts jiggle as she hoisted her pack onto her shoulders. "Say, what are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Research," Montana said simply, giving him a saucy smile. "Remember: forty-eight hours," she added, and then she turned and headed off into the woods, leaving the ranger to admire her luscious ass until she climbed over the next rise and out of sight.

Montana hiked for nearly another hour, guiding herself using a topographic map that some biology students in Pilsen had helped her annotate a couple of days earlier. When she'd reached the area she'd targeted, she found an appropriate campsite on a level clearing atop a ridge and set up camp. As she was pitching her tent, she felt a prickle on the back of her neck, accompanied by the unmistakable sensation of being watched. She spun abruptly, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her gorgeous young body, and scanned the wild forest surrounding her. She saw nothing, of course, but she trusted her instincts, certain that someone or something was out there among the trees, watching her.

She finished setting up her camp in mid-afternoon, and she decided to go out on a quick survey of the area. She pulled out a smaller pack she'd brought, filled it with a few essentials, and set off into the woods, her carefully honed observational skills in full force as she examined her surroundings. She climbed through verdant glades, over the fallen trunks of massive, ancient trees, and clambered over exposed rocks, carefully watching for anything that might offer a sign of her quarry. Then, off in the distance, she heard the sound of ravens calling raucously.

Following the sound, she made her way up along a ridge which fell away into a narrow gully, and there, among a thick bed of ferns, she came upon a flock of the big black birds, eagerly devouring the carcass of a large animal. She headed down into the gully, the ravens scattering and calling out in alarm as she approached the carcass, which looked like that of a large red deer, known in the Americas as elk. Stepping carefully among the blood-soaked ferns, Montana grew excited when she saw that the hind limbs, as well as the head, appeared to have been cleanly cut away, a sure mark that the animal had been butchered. She made her way around the site, alert for any evidence that it may just have been poachers, and then she saw something that made her freeze.

In the ferns near the animal's back was a broken piece of wood, at the end of which there appeared to be something wrapped around the stick. She pulled it up out of the ferns and gasped. The straight stick, stripped of bark, was topped with a broken and bloody stone spearhead, carefully tied to the shaft with sinews. The left side of the point was cracked off, probably broken as it struck one of the animal's bones, but from the intact side Montana easily identified it as a Chatelperonnian point, a type of spearhead that paleoanthropologists suspected to be the last style of stoneworking used by the Neanderthals.

Montana was practically quivering with excitement. She'd come to the Czech Republic to investigate rumors of strange, stocky people living deep in the forests of this immense national park on the border with Germany and Austria, men glimpsed rarely and at a distance by rangers, poachers, and the biologists she'd spoken with in Pilsen. Most dismissed them as mere hallucinations or, at best, escaped criminals or lunatics, but Montana suspected they might be a relict population of the extinct hominids that had once spanned the whole European continent before they were displaced or driven to extinction by modern humans. Now she held in her hand the best physical evidence she'd yet seen in support of her theory. She wiped the spearhead on the ferns and tucked it into her bag, then turned and examined the kill site for any sign of the route the hunters had taken.

An expert tracker, Montana soon noticed a trail of blood drops and broken ferns leading away to the west and began following the trail, one eye warily noting the position of the sun through the treetops. She followed the trail carefully, nearly losing it as she crossed a couple small streams, but eventually picked it up again as she made her way through the primeval forest. Then she felt another thrill as she began to smell, drifting to her on the wind, the scent of wood smoke and, she thought, the rich smell of cooking meat.

The smell got stronger as Montana made her way up a steep hill, and she dropped to her belly, climbing carefully up to the top of the hill through the soft forest loam. She came up behind a large fallen log and carefully peered over it. Across another glade, thick with ferns, the forest floor rose steeply into a sheer face of rocks, and there, fronted by a wide ledge just above the glade, gaped the wide, low mouth of a large cave, smoke wafting from the dark opening. Montana watched for a few minutes, still not sure that this wasn't just some poachers' hideout, but then a thickly muscled figure stalked out of the cave and onto the ledge above the ferns.

Montana barely stifled a cry of surprise and amazement as the figure came into view, its back to her as it emerged from the cave. It was short and powerfully built, naked except for a sort of loincloth of animal fur wrapped around its waist that hung down to just above its knees. Though it was clearly a male and clearly humanoid, Montana couldn't help but think of it as an it, rather than a he, for although it resembled a man in appearance, it moved like no man she had ever seen. Its careful, confident pacing reminded her more of a lion, or a wolf, a creature totally at home in its environment and fully aware that it stood at the top of the food chain. Then it turned towards her, sniffing the air, and Montana had to stifle another cry. Despite its thick, matted hair and beard, for an expert like Montana its facial and cranial morphology was unmistakably that of a Neanderthal.

She felt an involuntary shiver pass through her as she looked on this creature, one of the last of a species that had long been thought extinct for millennia. It was the kind of discovery that could change her career, and the world, forever. As she watched the Neanderthal, it paced up to the edge of the ledge and raised its loincloth, revealing an immense member nestled among a dark tangle of pubic hair. Astounded by the size of the hominid's massive penis, Montana watched as it took its thick member gently in its powerful hands and began urinating off the ledge and into the ferns below. As she watched the Neanderthal, so like and yet so unlike a man, she felt an unmistakable stirring of arousal, and found herself wondering despite herself how that immense Neanderthal dick would taste in her mouth, and how it would feel as it plunged deep into her tight, dripping pussy.

Amazed at her irrepressible lust, Montana smiled to herself as the Neanderthal finished urinating, shook off its thick penis, and dropped its loincloth, then turned and headed back towards the entrance to the cave. Just before it entered, though, it suddenly spun, jumped towards the edge of the rock ledge in a single powerful leap, and landed in a crouch, staring straight at her as it unleashed an inhuman bellow that made Montana's blood run cold. Too late Montana heard the crack of a twig behind her, and too late she caught a flash of impossibly fast movement out of the corner of her eye. Before she could even turn, her world went dark as her face and head were surrounded by what felt like a bag of fur, and then, too surprised even to scream, Montana felt two pairs of incredibly powerful hands grab her arms and legs, pull her back from the log, and quickly bind her limbs with what felt like thin leather straps. Amazed and excited as she had been by her discovery, Montana had forgotten that the Neanderthals were apex predators, masterful ambush hunters that had reigned over this continent for tens of thousands of years, and now, too late, she realized that she had just become their prey.