Culture Shock

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When the wheels touched down and I felt the bump, I knew I was back home. Back with the rules and regulations and norms that had not been a part of my life for the last 18 months. I was just coming back from Guatemala, where I had spent most of my time with a group of people who were frighteningly poor, decedents of the Inca, and whom observed a very different culture. After the experience, I had awoken a beast inside me I didn’t know was there before, and I hoped I could keep the beast at bay for the rest of my days . . . . I hoped.

I worried about if before I got off the plane as I saw a young teen Hispanic girl with her family. She must have been early high school age, decently developed, great skin. Just seeing her I felt my cock beginning to engorge. She wasn’t available or offered to me, but after spending so much time in a culture that acted so different, it was hard to turn my mind back off of the most primal evolutionary urges that had been unlocked.

As I stood in the aisle of the plane, I watched her jet black hair reflecting the pale lights of the plane. That young, robust, healthy female . . . it made me think back to how it all got started.

I am 41, a photographer, about 5 foot 9, dark brown hair and hazed eyes, mostly Portuguese heritage. I had a very normal middle class up bringing, dated a bit in high school but was always a bit of a nerd so not much happened till college. I met my wife in freshman year and we married three years later. We decided when we were 27 that we should have kids. She ended up being unable to conceive children, and though it was not that important to me, it was to her, and it seemed to make her feel like less of a woman.

Long sad story made short, she fell into depression and the next 13 years were an emotional roller coaster. I was often out on assignment for one nature magazine or another, and when I would return home I often wanted to leave again. Sex had become a painful reminder to her that she could never carry a child or be a nurturer. So sex was rare, crying and moodiness were common. Then 2 years ago I got the call I had dreaded. I was informed that my wife had slit her wrists in the bathtub, and I needed to come home.

I was pulled out of memory lane as the line of the plane started to move. We exited the vehicle and once inside the tarmac it was brutal. First I watched the young Hispanic girl and her family walking away. She already had heft to her breasts and her shorts showed her tanned and brown skin, so soft and fresh. She wasn’t really all that pretty, but the hunger to spread my seed seemed to care of nothing but volume and fertility.

As I rode the automatic walkway I noticed almost every young woman on the way. They all looked so tantalizing and tasty after what had happened. Again I worried I would not be able to cage the beast.

My mind drifted again when I got on the intra-terminal tram. After I came home and buried my wife I myself got depressed for a bit. We were not much for lovers but I still cared deeply for her, and while she had never been a passionate woman (hell most of our trysts were her on her back, soundless and motionless) sex was never the reason we had become spouses, and I missed greatly someone who appreciated the painstaking difficulties of my career.

It was 3 months after the funeral when my boss called me in and told me that a cultural magazine, popular in Mexico wanted a professional to photograph and then write an article about the cultural differences with a descendant tribe of the Inca in southern Guatemala.

“It would be the perfect assignment for your current situation. The “Chuptas”, which is what they call themselves are a very inclusive group. I worked with the village myself a number of years back. They love white folks, they think we must be from closer to the sun which they revere. You are going to love it John.”

“I appreciate this Frank but I am not sure I am in the right mindset.” I said, still feeling the effects of the suicide.

“No, you don’t understand, no phone service, sleeping in straw huts, clean air, water and food. Not only that, you will come back in great shape with all the walking and swimming. Trust me, you will get away from it all. Plus . . . it’s their. . . . well let’s just call it their initiation year. They only do it every 7 years so it is quite an experience. Their calendar is by the sun so their years starts in 14 weeks. I want you to get down there soon, become close with the tribe before the year starts. They will be very busy.”

“If you studied them before, are you sure there is a point for me to go?”

“Oh yes, I didn’t have a camera when I went and . . . well the experience was so transformative I have never written about it. But you, you have just the right temperament. Trust me, this will be just what you need to move ahead in life.”

I got my assignment in full, got my materials together and was on my way in 3 weeks. It was a flight, a jeep ride, a boat ride and another long hike, thankfully the last leg was with guides to help carry my stuff. The humidity was intense and I understood why they wore such thin and light colored clothing.

I had expected a primitive society, but that wasn’t it at all. They had very nice huts, they all more similar clothing, though the material of most clothes were a thin and strong but breathable linen fabric. Most clothes were white or gray or brown. How in the world they kept it all so clean was beyond me.

They spoke better English than I had expected, and though only a few were close to fluent, all had a rudimentary grasp. When I sat down for my first meal, I expected grubs and salamander or something. But they were skilled hunters, fishers and farmers and while we did eat with our hands, the food was amazing and they had woven plates for food. They had hard plastic cups from somewhere, fermented their own booze and with their clean living, many had great skin, shiny hair and toned figures. Also, the absence of sugar as a common staple like in America lead to many of them having nice, bright white teeth.

Three weeks after arriving, I felt like a welcomed member of the tribe and my Spanish speaking had incorporated a lot of their slang style and my vocabulary was improving. For simplicity I will write all exchanges in English, but more and more we spoke in their tongue.

I really didn’t understand what was so different about their culture, most families were one man and one woman (some higher level men had up to three wives, some much younger than the oldest) but for the most part, they seemed to have the same values as more modernized groups. They were much more in tune with nature, but other than not using electricity or having internet access, things seemed similar. They had a group that made trips to the closest city every new moon and I was able to get new batteries for my camera and flash. I had to use older equipment to accommodate this, but it still worked well.

I honestly had expected natives that were nude and running around with paint all over their faces and the like. Yet the women wore well woven dresses, and applied makeup similar to what you would see in an American city, though the way they obtain the materials is more natural. I really could not understand what made this society so different. Until the new year, that is.

There was a huge celebration at the next new moon. It was the start of their new year, and for them it was an initiation year. This is where their differences became quite pronounced. The tribe was about 123 people and their aversion to prescriptions or any doctor’s other than the medicine man meant that they had a higher death rate than most groups. So copulation was quite important. On initiation year all the boys above the age of 12 go on a forest expedition that is fairly dangerous. If they come back successful, they are pre-men and in 8 years will be paired with their first mate, whom they will marry and copulate with. Those that fail are castrated and live their life as servants for the tribe.

For the women, well for the women it is different. Any female who was 12 or older and not yet initiated would be measured. If her hips and waist had a certain proportion or better, she was considered proper for initiation. There were 13 girls who were ready for initiation. Those who were between the ages of 17-19 were to be immediately married off. Since they were considered to be late maturing, they were behind the curve and this was an embarrassment to them and their family. They were assumed to only birth average children for the tribe and were married off to a man who already had a primary wife. If they bore enough children then they could regain their status as equal members of society.

This took away 4 of the 13 girls. How they decided who they would be married to I wasn’t quite certain but it seemed to be based on the size of dowry the already married male could offer for the chance to improve his breeding stock and carry on his legacy. For the other 9 girls whose hips made it to the right proportion and were under the age of 17, it was truly a time to celebrate. This would be their time. Each girl was given her own month of celebration over the next 8 months. One girl however, was pushed all the way to the end of the year, and I had never seen her.

I later that day learned she was a “Prochina”. I have no idea what the word actually means but all these months later it basically means she is under a certain age with a pronounced proportion measurement of hips to waist and bust to waist. These girls, whom only come along every 30 to 40 years are considered descendants of the fertility god whose name I still can’t pronounce and she has a special celebration and is hidden from the village until her initiation month. This year of hiding is supposed to allow her to grow into herself with meditation and training from her “goddess mother” who is the last girl to be a “Prochina.”

Her name was Itzel, and she had been measured before I arrived and was already in seclusion. Now the first girl to be initiated was to be Maarit. She was 16, was very svelte and trim, but had oversized breasts for her thin frame. She had the same great light brown skin they all did and her hair was long and thick, hanging to her waist. I should mention that the tribe was very short. The males were about 5 foot 6 on average, the women between 4 foot 5 and 5 foot. Maarit was 4 foot 11 and her chest was about a 30 B. She was very cute with huge round eyes. Her butt was pronounced, and she had huge loops inside her ear drum. It looked a bit like the big rings American teens get sometimes now, called gauges, but they were solid, not hollow. Hers were bigger than average and that seemed pleasing to the men of the tribe.

I was informed that in four days she would have her initiation party. Over the next three days there was lavish food and music, and every man in the tribe at one point or another danced with her. If seemed almost inappropriate when they danced, each man seemed to be grabbing her all over and feeling her up. I found out later they were, as they were curious how good of an initiate she would be.

The night before her initiation day every man in the tribe was given a chip of wood. There were cleared of bark. The men would cut their palm and use the blood to paint their “mark” on the piece of wood. These pieces were all put in a large sack. Then dinner happened as usual and this was the night that Maarit sat at the head of the table while all the men oogled her, as she was dressed in an overly skimpy outfit. A small hide tied around her waist, barely covering her ass and honey pot. The top a strip of material tied over her nipples but leaving the rest of her breasts exposed. Underwear was not very common in the tribe and as such, nearly every man was walking around with a visible hard on, staring at the scantily clad young female.

I would have thought it perverted and embarrassing but it seemed to be completely accepted. I was really starting to understand the culture differences my boss Frank had eluded to, but I was to understand much, much more the differences the next evening.

As the sun was going down a special hut was erected in the middle of the village. Out front was a large fire pit and a lot of seating, mostly is chairs carved from wood. They were no where as intricate as something you would see in a furniture store, but it would do. We gathered and had a huge feast, right in the middle of which Maarit was presented to us. It got completely silent as she was brought out from a hut used to prepare her and I was stunned.

She didn’t look like the nice bodied little girl that i had seen but like an exotic goddess. She wore an extravagant, white lace dressed, sewn by the women of the tribe that month. It was tailored to her and hugged her every curve. Her hair was woven into an intricate design and the tight bind came over her left shoulder. Her right shoulder held the strap to the gown. It looked almost like a huge dress of toilet paper by the way it moved, but was solid linen fabric. In the front was a slit up the calve lengthed dress. The slit went to her mid thigh and opened outward. Again, underwear is uncommon and was no different now.
While I could not see her pussy lips, they were only a few inches out of view. It was basically a prom dress nightmare for any mother.

They brought her to a chair that was elegantly carved at the head of the table up on a bit of a pedestal. She sat down, flowing out her dress and gave me my first culture shock. Her legs were side by side, but then her mother tapped her knee and she let her legs part to shoulder length. There, for all to see, a bit shadowed by the top of the dresses skirt were her pussy lips. Her crotch was obviously shaved and her pink showed just a bit. All of the men “oo’ed” and then clapped for her and Maarit smiled big and blushed, happy to be well received.

We finished eating, most men staring at her the whole time until the plates were cleared. Then the chief’s wife came to the table with the sack with all the chips. Maarit reached in and pulled one out and the wife said the name on the chip. A man over to the left cheered and the crowd clapped for him. Then Maarit picked another name, another and another with the same light applause for each man. Then as she reached in the fifth time, everyone leaned in, eyes wide. When the name was read on the fifth chip, not just the man whose name it was cheered but the whole crowd roared. The sack was then taken away.

The chief and the Maarit’s father came to the sides of her chair and recited a long fertility prayer and threw a hog leg on the fire to sacrifice. Then Maarit stood up and hugged her father, then her mother came up and hugged her and whispered something in her ear. She smiled at her mother, tears in her eyes as the first man who had had his chip drawn walked up to Maarit. He put his arms around her waist and kissed her. A deep french kiss. I found myself recoiling at this site. This man had to be in his late 40’s or worse. His hands were grasping her butt cheeks and massaging them, and he was grinding his groin into hers. I was about to stand up and protest this inappropriate behavior when he stopped kissing her and grabbed her hand and they walked to the hut in the middle and inside the hay door. There were windows cut out of the hard hay sides, but with nothing in them.

Everyone in the village went back to chatting, though quieter than before. That was when I heard it. A loud grunt from within the hut. Everyone got very quiet and everyone now stared at the hut. Then I heard a second loud grunt. There was a murmur amongst the crowd and then I heard Maarit,

“Mom! Mommy! Ooooh!”

“It’s okay my baby, everything will be okay. Remember what I taught you!” Her mother yelled to the hut.

“Ugh! Ugh! Mommy! Ugh!”

“Just hold on baby!” Her mother consoled.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh . . . uh, uh, uh uh, UH, UH, UH UNGH!!!” You could hear from the older man that had taken her into the hut.

At that point everyone got to their feet.

“OH Mommy! Mommy it hurts!”

“Ungh! RRRAAGH! URRRRRR-AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” The man yelped inside and fell silent.

The whole crowd at that point roared its approval and cheered and clapped. Moments later the man stumbled out of the hut and over to Maarit’s father. He got on one knee and kissed her father’s hand, reciting the fertility prayer. He then went back to his seat, getting pats on the back the rest of the way.

Maarit’s mother and some other women carrying large sacks went into the hut and reappeared about 15 minutes later with Maarit in tow. She looked as pristine as she had before, like nothing had happened even though it was 100% evident that this young girl had just been defiled by an old man. Not to mention it had been between 4 and 5 minutes total. So not only had this creepy old man fucked her, he hadn’t even bothered to try to make it worth her while.

At this point the second man who had his name drawn came up to her chair, she stood and let him kiss her as well. He kept pulling off and telling her how beautiful she was before kissing again. Then he too, lead her by the wrist into the hut. And again, within a few minutes Maarit was protesting about pain again until a moment or two later when the man, this one more like 30 years of age, howled her name before the hut was silent. The crowd cheered again as this man came out, repeated the prayer and kissed her father’s hand before the process started all over again.

4 men, between 30 and 65 years of age took Maarit into the hut and had sex with her, all fast as they could, not one man seemed able to last more than 5 minutes. When Maarit came out the 4th time and sat at her special chair, the fifth man to have his name drawn, a very burly man of 33 or so walked up to her. This time she stood but they didn’t kiss, he just brushed his fingers through her hair as her mother whispered things to her. Her mother handed her something and she kissed her mother.

Then the man picked Maarit up but instead of taking her into the hut, she picked her up and carried her in his arms to his own hut and went inside. The villagers walked around the hut, saying fertility prayers and sprinkled rose petals around the hut. Then, amazingly they all scattered towards their homes, no more words spoken. As I started walking away I could hear the first grunts from the hut. These sounded much more controlled and my curiosity got the better of me. I walked to one of the hut’s windows and peaked inside. I saw Maarit on her back on a straw bed, the man had mounted her and was gripping her thighs while he slowly slid his penis in and out of her young cunt.

God I couldn’t believe how hot it was to watch an older man taking a young lady but then I got a tap on my shoulder. It was a village elder shaking his head and he lead me away, back to his hut, where he explained the ritual I witnessed.

The girls who are considered adequately matured were to be initiates, that part I knew. The rules of initiation were thus; only men of 30 and older got to put their names in the sack, not all of them as I had thought. Because the tribe is constantly fighting against attrition of their size, procreation is of utmost importance. Women under the age of 20 and with a good hip to waist ratio are considered the best mates by the tribe and it is critical that the young ladies give birth within a year of initiation. After that first child they will be married to a single male, who will raise the child as his own and try to copulate with her as many times as possible before she reaches 25, after which pregnancy is considered to risky for the mother. While plenty of children were born to women after this age, those children were executed for impurity. It did seem barbaric, but it was their society.

So on the night of initiation the initiate picks five names out of a sack. These will be her first 5 mates, in hopes of her getting impregnated that night. The rules were that the man give her a deep kiss in front of the tribe to show he will perform coitus with respect to the rules. The rules continue that the man take the initiate into the fertility hut, and enter her and spill his seed as fast as possible, and only in missionary position. Each of the first four men repeat this process dutifully filling her young virginal womb with seed.
The elder told me that this practice is not meant to be pleasurable but mechanical and solely about procreation. I wanted to laugh and tell him I was pretty sure older men being told to pump a young gal with their seed in as few strokes as possible was the definition of pleasure for a man, but did not as to not disrespect. So basically as I understood it, a young girl was willingly raped by 4 men. But what about the fifth?

I asked and was told that the fifth man’s job was to do everything to ensure impregnation and it was considered a great honor as his odds of impregnating the initiate was considered very high. The fifth man’s responsibility was to empty seed into her at least 4 times that evening, but he was supposed to go as slow as possible and try to make it pleasurable for the young girl who after four penises was thought to be broken in.

Until the next full moon the girl would live with the fifth man, where he was excused from his village duties as it was believed this made him more viral and he was to empty his seed into her at least once a day and at least once a night until the moon cycle completed. During this time the man’s wife would stay with the girl’s family to give them privacy. Out of respect for the burden, the wife would sleep with the girl’s father once a week, a nice little side effect I had to say. After that, the girl would go home and await her arrangement to a single male of the tribe for marry.

As I listened I noticed how matter of fact the elder was describing all of this. But it was how things had been done for so long, and I supposed many cultures didn’t share the view of when sexual relations were proper or how they were to be engaged. I thanked the elder for the information and headed back to my hut. The fifth man’s hut was on the way and I couldn’t help listening in, hearing a sharp grunting by him and a light muffled grunting my her. I peeked inside for just a moment and caught the man in his last three thrusts before ejaculating inside her. He did well in not being loud when he came and after he collapsed on her and she held them. I quickly walked on, knowing I was fully hard at this point.

I went to my hut, the visuals of the attractive young girl Maarit in my mind’s eye. I had never been big on young women, I had usually preferred a mature woman. But now the realization that these men were in a lottery to fuck a young untouched girl, I understood their reluctance to every change their ways. I masturbated to the visions I had of Maarit getting fucked and came very hard that night, the idea of her young hard thighs wrapped around me.

For the next month, any time I would walk by the hut of the fifth man the smell of sex would be coming out of the huts windows and often I would hear grunts. I never got the nerve to look inside again, but I fantasized about it a lot. But I kept my thoughts to myself and immersed myself deeper withing the tribe.

It was at the first night of initiation celebration for the second girl, Halina that I saw Maarit. She was dressed moderately and her hair was no longer done up and she had no makeup. But she was so much sexier; the way she walked, her mannerisms, the way she looked at you, she was undeniably a woman now. God knows how many times her fifth man had mated with her. I would have done it until I was literally too dehydrated to go again that day. I can’t describe the feeling I was getting when I saw her, I so desperately wanted to fuck that young fertile pussy. I could tell the norms of the society were already pressing in on me.

Until I saw Halina of course. She was presented to us, and she was very slender all around. Longer body, long slim legs, long willowy arms, a long nose, but wearing a dress formed for her and her hair and makeup done by the women of the village and she was a vision. She couldn’t have bigger than A cups and she was maybe 100 pounds soaking wet. The 14 year old seemed very nervous, and with how tiny she was I understood. But like with Maarit, it was obvious her body had the necessary curvature and from a nature perspective, she was ready.

The process played out much the same. 5 names drawn, 4 quickies in the hut with everyone watching and then the fifth man, a young robust man who had turned 30 that year took her to be with him for a month. I realized the entertainment especially in regards to masturbatory fantasies, but was still a bit confused why Frank thought this would help me get over the death of my wife. It was because he knew more than I did.

It was two more girls down the line, the fifth over all, named Fairuza, that showed me how I might be helped. That night after Fairuza, a very short and squat girl who was not attractive at all but had very large breasts for a 15 year old was on the docket, I was handed a chip. I thought it was a mistake but was told I had been accepted as a member of the tribe. I was shown how to make a mark for me and did so, and dropped it in the sack. I have to admit, despite not finding her attractive at all, I was bummed my name was not pulled. Wearing a dress like the others, but being chubbier, her legs splayed wide and I got a great view of her pink pussy while we dinned, and I can’t deny my brain screaming to me that there was a fertile woman to copulate with in front of me. I was falling down the rabbit hole.

It was the next month with Dakini that things changed for me as a man, as a human and as a moralist. Dakini was special compared to the other girls. She was 16, about 5 foot 2, very tall for their women. She had great dark brown skin, jet black wavy hair. She had a very pretty smile and her eyes were a light grey instead of brown like the others. She was also a bit thicker than the rest. Not heavy or fat in any way, just seemed more filled out. On her second night, wearing the skimpy outfit, she looked amazing. She was 70% leg, and they were model type legs, long and slender, with dainty ankles and great feet. Her waist was very firm and had the hints of lines outside her abdominals showing how fit her body really was. She had at least 28 C cups, the cleavage more pronounced than most of the others, and certainly the finest pair of breasts. They were perky and firm and stuck out, begging to be noticed. This girl was the first of the group to truly be lust worthy, and when the third chip pulled from the sack was mine, I nearly fainted.

My heart was instantly pounding 1000 times a minute and my mouth went dry and my chest felt anxiety. Dakini smiled at me after choosing my name, and I tried to smile back without showing the raging feelings of lust that were gathering in me. Perhaps that is the point of the whole ritual, to prepare our bodies as much as hers. All I know is I was rock hard in my linens and wondered if I would have a wet spot showing though all ready. Just continued to sweat as she pulled the last two names. I wanted to slit the throat of the man who I knew was going to take her virginity. The elder had told me that her hymen is stretched by her mother the day off to make the coitus easier, but I still wanted to be the first man to explore her . . .the first to cum inside of her.

When they walked into the hut together, I couldn’t believe how much my lust intensified, just knowing that that other man was laying his seed in my pussy . . . . but it wasn’t mine. My god, their system was perfect, I couldn’t wait to fuck that little girl. I would go to prison for it back home, here, I would merely be her fourth dick of the day. Not that that fact reduced my desire, I was ready to watch her face as I gave my body into hers.

I sat there staring at my drink as I heard the first grunts from the hut, seething. I couldn’t believe how fast I had gone from docile to lust rage. I wanted to pump her so hard and fast. I realized it would be the first time in my life it was okay to do that on purpose. God how can I just sit here and . . .

“UUUUUNNGH! DIKINI!!!” He finished. He was done. That fucking knockout in there wasn’t a virgin anymore. She was used. And soon I would get to make her a slut.

The next half hour while they fixed her back up was murder, I still had to wait for number two to go! Fuck! I was starting to worry I would cum in my pants. I had never felt my cum want to escape so badly!

Finally she came back out, those sexy legs, those large perky tits, that perfect smile, god help me!

I think I sat there, eyes closed, concentrating for the next 38 minutes until I felt a tap on my shoulder. The woman who tapped me pointed up to the chair where Dikini was sitting again. It was my turn.

I stood up on legs of rubber. Holy shit, was this real? Was I actually about to be given permission to ravage fuck that gorgeous 16 year old body? I walked up the steps and could feel my body shaking as I did. I felt like my scrotum had swelled to three times it’s normal size, full of semen just aching to find it’s way into her young womb.

I put my hand out and she took it and stood to me. That beautiful face, and when we kissed, her natural talent was undeniable. I explored her body with my hands and began to grind my hips into her. God the tribe sure knew how to drive a man crazy with lust. In the regular world, I would never have even gave such a young lady a second thought, but here, now, I would kill any man who seeked to stop me from getting my penis inside of her taut, young frame.

She pulled away from my kiss, smiling at me and she actually took the lead, pulling me behind her to the fertility hut. We went through the straw door and put it back in place. The hut smelled of sweat and sex, not that I cared about the surroundings. I would have made love to her in a dumpster.

We walked to the elevated patch of hay. The hay was on a perch of wood and on top of the hay was a fine silk pouch, filled with feathers to make a soft inviting bed. It wasn’t the worst place for a girl to lose her innocence.

Dikini turned to me and nodded to the bed behind her, and put her arms over my shoulders. I took the hint and hoisted her to the pedestal on which I would ravage her teen body. She scooted back a bit and then laid down on her back, spreading her legs a bit, showing her pussy to me and offering herself.

I stared and drooled, I didn’t know what to do, I had never been so horny and didn’t seem to have my basic motor skills. My foot kicked a bowl at the base of the perch and saw a thick clear liquid sloshing around the bowl. I didn’t pay it much mind and got my hands to obey and pushed my linen pants down, my cock free and rigid, pointing right at my future conquest. I took a final step forward, still in disbelief that I was doing this, but knowing I wasn’t going to stop.

Dikini was on her elbows and could see I was ready to destroy her pussy with my cock. I should mention that compared to the men of the village I was a much bigger man, and I assume, had a much bigger cock. She saw me staring at her snatch and sat up and stopped me. She pointed to the bowl.

“Put on” she said. I shook my head, not sure what she was telling me.

“Put on” she said again and this time ran her hand along my engorged penis.

The sensation of her tiny hand on me was intense but I finally understood she wanted some of the gooey stuff on my penis, for lube I assumed. I found out different. I took a scoop of the goo and rubbed in on my manhood. I immediately felt a warmth and tingling, and then the tingling intensified into a pulsing as i realized it was drastically increasing the sensitivity of my unit. I finally was understanding when they said it wasn’t about pleasure. The mood, the set up, the waiting as the sex tension filled those whose names were drawn, the knowledge of the age of the females and their fertility, and now the hut and the goo. Everything was designed to send the man into an uncontrollable rage of hormones and lust, and it was very effective. I would like to have made love to Dikini for hours and hours, with passion and sensuality. But with my heightened state, I would have been lucky to last a minute, now with the added sensitivity of the goo, I wondered if I would make it 5 seconds.

I did, but not much more. Once I was covered in the goo Dikini seemed satisfied with the prep and laid back down, I stepped up onto the little built in step of the bed and was as a prime position for missionary copulation. Dikini was staring at me with wide eyes, blinking fast. She smiled and said,

“Ok, time now?”

“Oh yes baby, it has to be now!”

I ran my hands up her thighs, they were so luscious, taut and firm. The light of the torches around the hut danced shadows across her white dress. I leaned forward, down to her, I had to kiss those lips again before I lost my mind fucking her nearly virgin honey pot. She met my kiss and returned it and I reached to her shoulder with the dress on it and slipped it over, freeing her chest. I suctioned my mouth onto her nipple and sucked, suckled and bit. Then to the other breast and back again. They were truly spectacular and, obviously, natural. Their buoyancy and perkiness were astounding, this girl would be on her way to a modeling career back in the States.

I focused on her body as long as I could, wanting to elongate the experience. But I knew I could not wait much longer unless I wanted my private parts to explode in a firework of semen. I parted her tight lips with my fingers and rubbed my mushroom cap up and down a few times to spread the goo onto her as well, before locking on to the bay doors, and I pushed ahead, watching my cockhead slowly disappear into Dikini’s body.

“Ooooof! Hmph-hmpf, hmph.” My breathing was drastically accelerated and I felt like my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. The sensation from my manhood is indescribable. Taking the most sensitive and heightened state my cock has ever been in and multiply it by 1000. Dikini’s two previous partners had opened her up significantly and she was able to accept my additional size quite easily after an extra firm push.

“Oooo-Oooh! Oh big! Big!” Dikini said in a frightened whisper as she felt the fullness of my push into her.

“Oh fuck Dikini!” I said, trying to keep control over myself. Only two thrusts and my entire lower body felt like every nerve was on fire and tingling. I felt my orgasm already building and the intensity made me very nervous and anxious. Was it possible to die from too intense and orgasm? I felt sure I was going to put that question to rest in moments.

My hands were gripping the wooden base of the perch as I pushed in a third time.

“Holy fuck Dikini!” I said louder than a whisper, the shock wave sent down my shaft was nearly unbearable and I felt my testicles pulling up to my body, preparing to complete my duties. Jesus! Three pumps and I was almost past the point of no return. The pleasure was insane, but going to be very short lived.

“Oooo-ohhhh-oooo-oohhhhh!” Dikini moaned her head turning from side to side.

I pulled out, watching my penis pull out from her, covered in goo and it almost looked like it was glowing in the torchlight. I felt like a curtain descended around me, wrapping me and Dikini in a cocoon of my lust for her at that moment.

I let go of the perch and grabbed Dikini by her waist, my wrists resting on her hips and began to thrust like a wild dog in heat, the sound of my pelvis smacking Dikini was severe and my scrotum slapped her butt on each pump. I felt my eruption right at the edge and the intensity of it again made me fearful.

“Oh Jesus! Oh god Dikini. Oh, OH, OH, OH, OOOOOOOHHHHHUUUUUHHH!!!!!”

I was launched off my feet on my last thrust, my entire body held up my by forced rigid arms, locked into place and putting all my weight on the poor young girl beneath me and I am shocked I didn’t cause her a fracture. My back arched and froze, and my legs kicked behind me like I was in an iron-man triathlon.

Each scissor of my legs squeezed my swollen sack, pumping more and more of my seed into her fertile womb. My orgasm was constant, not even waves with each pump but a full body seizure of pleasure, and it kept my legs kicking, My vision went black, my hearing nothing but a ringing and my muscles building up lactic acid, causing a sting.

My legs kicked for at least another 10 seconds, at least 20 more spurts of my man juice. I would have thought it impossible to excrete so much fluid but I couldn’t hold it in. Finally after what felt like a fortnight, I legs stopped kicking and my arms gave way and I collapsed onto Dikini.

My vision came back in a blur, then blobs then finally sharpened. The ringing in my ears began to recede and I could hear the cheers from outside the hut. After another minute of panting I pushed myself off of Dikini and stood at the foot of the perch. I looked up at her to see a big smile on her face as she was back up on her elbows, now her beautiful breast moving with her panting breaths.

“Thank you.” She said softly with a look of love in her eyes. I would find out later her tribe though white people were closer to the sun and closer to the gods and their procreation was especially valued. Yet again, something my boss left out.

While she still looked beautiful, her dress had a bit of a wet spot from my sweat. Her lower body, below the dress split was quite a mess. Her luscious thighs were covered with sweat and other fluids. Her pussy was dripping cum, god only knows how much of multiple men sat inside her at this point.

My penis was still tingling and I looked down to see it was still bubbling out a tiny bit of cum. I pulled up my pants and stumbled to the door, completely shocked at what I had done and how an uncontrollable lust had overtaken me. I exited the hut, kissed the hand of her father and tried to recite the fertility prayer as best I could before taking my seat.

I watched 20 minutes later as Dikini came out, looking as good as new. She sat and smiled at me until the next suitor came to her chair, and they kissed. I looked at the ground, ashamed of what I had done but completely satisfied in ways I couldn’t describe. I figured that this is what my boss had been referring to as getting over my wife. I thought the experience was over . . . . but there was more to cum.

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