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The Ceremony

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2006-09-18

The Ceremony

 

I often wondered whether the mosquitos, the mud, the heat, and the constant sweat were worth it. My fourth trip into the jungle was unlike any of the others. Six days in a canoe eating stale food that smelled like rotting fish and tasted even worse, and I felt I was no closer to achieving my objective than when I first arrived in Brazil.

 

My quest was to find and take samples of what native tribes called Punali. Rumors, legends, and several testimonials I had heard on my previous expedition were enough for my company to invest in a search for the elusive, and possibly mythical, leaves from which the jungle medicine is derived. The only place in the rain forest to find them, I had been told, was deep in the interior at the village of a mysterious tribe called the Unomo. Supposedly, they guarded the plants so religiously that only a hand full of people had ever even seen them, let alone taken the “potion,” as it is referred to.

 

If the descriptions of the miraculous properties of Punali were in the least accurate, it could lead to the development of drugs which could cure, or at least control, any number of nervous system disorders from which millions of people suffer worldwide. As a research botanist specializing in herbal compounds, I felt I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to venture back into the jungle to try to obtain samples of what could be such a valuable discovery.

 

I was accompanied by three very able-bodied, although less than talkative natives. Jose, who had assisted me on two other journeys, was truly a remarkable man. He had a grasp of nearly every tribal language and dialect we had encountered. In fact, he was probably weakest in his mastery of English. He also had an uncanny ability to know where he was in the dense vegetation that seemed to go on and on with no end. I was lucky to have an idea of which direction the canoe was heading.

 

Pico and Leti were along for muscle.

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   Jose had hired them on his own; having been acquainted with them for several years. I could only speak to them through Jose and, by and large, they had little to say anyway. They carried our supplies and my equipment and kept the canoe moving through the murky, brown waters of the narrow tributaries we were navigating.

 

We were probably two hundred miles or so south of the equator, gliding smoothly south, I assumed, on the surface of a narrow river. I had long ago stopped noticing my own body odor, or that of my companions, after so many days of constant perspiration. We didn’t dare bathe in the water because of the plethora of critters which would feast on us, or enter our bodies through any orifice they could penetrate and eat their way out again.

 

The river narrowed even more, and we found ourselves under a thick canopy of leaves from the trees that lined the bank. At least we were out of the incessant sun which burned down on us more than sixteen hours each day.

 

“This all new,” Jose commented, glancing slowly from side to side with his dark, deep-set eyes.

 

He inhaled deeply as if he were trying to smell our location. He thrust his chin out and furrowed his heavy brow. His sudden attitude of concern was beginning to worry me.

 

“This all new,” he repeated.

 

Jose arose carefully and silently in the canoe. As he peered into the overgrowth of vegetation, Pico turned to him and said something I, of course, did not understand.

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   Jose flashed his eyes at him and grunted, obviously signaling him to be silent.

 

Slowly, Jose raised his right arm above his shoulder. Then, with the speed of a catapult, it shot down, his index finger extended to point toward the jungle.

 

“Somebody. ” His whisper was barely audible. “Unomo,” he said as quietly as possible.

 

We stayed motionless, like we were frozen. When Jose uttered another unintelligible word, Pico and Leti pulled their oars from the water. It didn’t appear that Jose blinked his eyes, he only stared at the spot that had drawn his attention. After what seemed like fifteen minutes, Jose suddenly opened his mouth and called to the bank.

 

“Bulicai! Bulicai!” The volume of his cry caused the din of bird and insect noises to silence momentarily.

 

We waited another few minutes, and Jose made the identical call to the bank. I nearly jumped into the water when we heard the response.

 

“Bulicai yento cot!” The voice was high-pitched and sounded urgent.

 

“We scare them,” Jose whispered.

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   “Stand. ” I did as he said. With a word to our companions, they did as well. “We no be scared. We be scared, we maybe be dead. ”

 

Several different voices from unseen mouths began chanting. “Bulicai yento cot, bulicai. ” Stopping abruptly, the echo of the cries reverberated in the trees.

 

Jose turned his head and looked at us. “Do like me,” he said. He raised his arms above his head, spread his fingers wide apart, and yelled in a forceful baritone, “Bulicai!”

 

With no detectable movement of the foliage, as if they had emerged through green fog, warriors appeared on the river bank. There must have been fifty of them, each on holding a spear. They were short in stature, but their muscles were finely developed.

 

As Jose continued to let loose a barrage of words, it seemed from the warriors’ expressions that they either didn’t understand him or were cautiously considering what he told them. I had a sinking feeling of helplessness.

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   There was no was to escape their spears if they chose to throw them. Our rifles, at our feet in the canoe, might as well have been a mile away.

 

“Yento cot,” one of the warriors cried. “Adobo! Adobo!”

 

“Bulicai,” Jose bellowed. “Cot adobo!”

 

One of the men in the middle of the string of warriors lowered his spear. As he did so, his comrades did likewise. “Buleto, bulicai,” the apparent leader called.

 

“We live,” Jose sighed. Lowering himself to sit in the canoe he added, “For now. ”

 

Pico and Leti paddled slowly to the bank. They did not look happy at all. I knew I wasn’t. We were farther from civilization than any of us had ever been and we were at the mercy of a tribe that was virtually unknown outside this region.

 

The Unomo warriors wore brightly colored feathers in their coal black hair. As we came closer, I saw that all were at least a foot shorter than us.

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   However, their physiques were perfectly proportioned.

 

When we reached the bank, it was obvious that our captors were fascinated by me. They had probably never before seen a person with light brown hair and pink skin whose size dwarfed them. Strangely, they did not seem to fear me. It was wonder and awe I saw in their eyes; as if they were actually happy I had arrived.

 

Suddenly, a disturbing thought entered my mind. Although I had never heard any documention of the practice in the Brazilian jungle, it was not beyond the realm of possibility that the Unomo, so isolated and obscure, were cannibals. Could they be evaluating me as a feast that would feed their entire village?

 

With the canoe lashed to a tree, Pico and Leti unloaded the box which contained my equipment. Having done so, Leti stepped back into the canoe, retrieved our rifles, and handed them out. There was no response at all from the natives. I surmised that they had no idea of the purpose of the guns.

 

The pace they set as we marched through the nearly impassable flora was tiring. Within a mile of the river, we were walking gradually uphill. When we reached the top, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The village was constructed on a wide, vast plateau.

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   Hundreds of small structures surrounded three large central buildings. It was the most elaborate and sophisticated jungle community I had ever seen.

 

A small crowd of Unomo had gathered to investigate their visitors. Like the warriors, they were small in stature. What immediately caught my eye was a group of young women, or possibly girls, who were standing together in a corner of the concourse of buildings. They were barely four feet tall, but their physical characteristics were stunningly attractive.

 

Wearing only skirts around their waists, which extended to the middle of their thighs, and beaded necklaces, nearly all of their shapely bodies were open to my view. One of them was exceptionally alluring. Although somewhat smaller than the other girls, she had voluptuous breasts, an extremely narrow waist, and lean, sculptured legs. Her eyes locked onto mine as I gazed at her. She lowered her pretty head and peered provocatively at me from under long, ebony eye lashes.       

 

We were led to the entrance of the largest building. Two warriors went inside while we continued to be scrutinized by the Unomo populace. Within minutes, one warrior returned and spoke to Jose.

 

“We talk to chief,” Jose said to me.

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With a wave of his hand, the warrior motioned us into the building. A skinny, withering old man arose from his seat on a carved, wooded stool. He approached me, paying no attention to my companions, and stopped inches away. He gazed at me intently from head to toe. I towered over him by at least two feet.

 

“Bulicai?” He asked, staring intently into my eyes.

 

Jose didn’t speak. I assumed from the interchange at the river that the word indicated “friend. ”

 

“Bulicai,” I responded, doing my best to mimic the word.

 

Apparently satisfied that I was sincere, the old chief walked around me slowly. When he faced me again, he raised a frail hand and squeezed my upper arm.

 

“Bulicai!” The tone of his voice indicated that he had confirmed my status – whatever that might be. Glancing at my equipment box, he spoke to Jose.

 

“He want know what box do, Jose said.

 

“Go ahead and tell him.

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  â€

 

“No words to tell Unomo. ”

 

“Tell him I use the boxes to find medicine to heal sickness. ”

 

Jose was momentarily bewildered. He paused, then began to speak to the old man. He used hand gestures in an attempt to give an explanation. The only word I recognized was Punali.

 

“Dutera Punali,” the old man said to me, raising his eyebrows in a quizzical expression.

 

“He say you get Punali. ”

 

I was shocked. I never dreamed it would be this easy. I expected some hesitation on his part to even discuss Punali, let alone allow me immediate access to it.

 

“What’s their word for thank you,” I asked Jose. Before he could reply, the old man droned on in what sounded to me to be a rambling monologue.

 

“He say you get Punali after ceremony,” Jose told me when the oration was ended. “He say ceremony first, then you get.

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  â€ It was obviously my imagination, but Jose suddenly looked as white as a ghost. “He say Unomo need…”

 

“Unomo need what?” I asked.

 

“Hard to say words,” Jose said. He looked at me with what might have been pity in his eyes. “Unomo need… words hard. Blood, life, Jose not sure. He say you strong, you smart. Unomo need you. You give to Unomo at ceremony. ”

 

As Jose spoke, I began to tremble. Thoughts flashed through my mind with the speed of lightning. Was I to be sacrificed? How could I get Punali after giving my life? It didn’t make any sense.

 

Jose had an ominous look on his face as he said, “Chief say you need sleep.

Ceremony go all night. You sleep now.

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  â€

 

With that, the old man called to the warrior. I was ushered out to one of the smaller buildings. It was about twelve feet square. It contained a wooden bench upon which had been placed wooden trays with an assortment of fruits and vegetables. In the center of the room was a cot made from reeds woven around branches and covered with animal skins.

 

As the warrior left, he motioned graciously to the feast that had been prepared for me. Initially, I had no appetite, wondering if this might be my last meal. I was so tired from the day’s events that I couldn’t seem to think straight. There was no logic in the old man’s promise. Either that or Jose’s limited knowledge of the dialect allowed him to provide me with only a cryptic understanding of what had been said.

 

In any event, my state of mind was not helping. Although escape may not be possible, I would have a better chance if I were refreshed. I went to the bench and ate several pieces of fruit, then I reclined to at least attempt to rest.

 

I was awakened by the sound of the old man’s voice. I opened my eyes to find that the room was illuminated only by the flames from small torches at each corner.

 

   The chief wore a cape adorned by colorful feathers. He began to speak words I could not begin to comprehend.

 

I sat on the edge of the cot and listed to his soft, low voice. Suddenly, I recognized a word: Punali. From the waist of his skirt, he produced a small pouch and held it out to me. I grasped it and realized it was the bladder of a small animal filled with liquid.

 

“Punali,” he said slowly. He motioned with his hand that he was holding an invisible object to his mouth; urging me to drink from the bladder. He pinched the tip and removed a leather lace that had sealed the liquid in.

 

Reluctantly, I took a drink. It was a milky, gritty mixture with a sharp, acidic flavor. I pulled it away from my mouth and grimaced.

 

“Punali,” he said again, and pushed the bladder toward my mouth.

 

I opened my throat and dumped the vile contents down it; attempting to avoid any contact with my tongue. Nevertheless, the horrible taste made me shiver.

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The feeble tribal leader placed his hand on my forehead and chanted in a low monotone. Ever so gently, he pushed me back until I was lying on the cot.

 

“Pado, bulicai,” he said, then turned and left the room.

 

I waited to die. I expected to die–to never see my wife and children again. Then, almost imperceptibly, the effects of the medicine came on slowly. The first sensation was that the reflections of the flickering flames were dancing on the thatched ceiling. I studied them; picking out shapes of birds, flowers, and animals.

 

Gradually, I felt extremely lucid. I felt as if this were the first time in my life that I had ever had truly clear thoughts. I felt energetic. I wanted to do something: to run, jump, swim. All of the fatigue I had felt earlier in the day had vanished.

 

From the corner of my eye I saw movement as someone entered the room. She was carrying a large wooden bowl.

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   She was naked from the waist up and she was beautiful. I couldn’t tell if she was one of the young women I had seen in the village square. She was small, as everyone in the village, but not squat and round like most of the women who are native to tribes in the Amazon jungles.

 

White feathers and white flowers were woven into straight, shimmering black hair which flowed down from her head to just above her shoulders. Her almond shaped eyes and flat nose made her look like a Polynesian princess. But her flawless skin, which shined like black velvet in the dim light, was much darker.

 

Without saying a word, she put the bowl down on the floor next to the cot. The aroma of the sweet-smelling liquid in the bowl began to fill the room. She dropped gracefully to her knees and grasped the collar of my shirt. Her confused expression let me know she had never seen one before. She fumbled with the top button, becoming frustrated that she could not get it out of the hole.

 

Her reason for wanting to remove my shirt was a mystery, but I had no inclination to resist. I reached up and slowly undid the button as she keenly studied the movements of my fingers. She immediately comprehended the procedure and, with some difficulty, removed the remaining buttons. It was strange, but my feelings of fear were gone.

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   I sensed that she wasn’t there to murder me, even though I spied a small dagger, carved from either shell or bone, tucked in the waistband of her skirt.

 

Once my shirt was loose, I raised my torso and allowed her to remove it from my arms. That done, she focused her attention to the buckle on my belt. It was obvious she was pondering how to manipulate it. I decided to see how long it would take her to find the solution to the puzzle. Before she touched it, she gazed at it from several angles. In an impressive performance, she was able to unbuckle my belt and even unsnap my trousers.

 

As she was staring at my zipper with an inquisitive look, another young woman entered who, like my current companion, was carrying a wooden bowl. She was even smaller, but by far more attractive. Her perfect white teeth glistened like polished pearls. White feathers and flowers also adorned her lovely head. She set her bowl on the ground and knelt behind my head.

 

The girl undressing me finally looked at me and shook her head from side to side. Assuming she was stymied by the zipper, I slid it down for her. She grasped the trousers and pulled them down to my ankles, unable to get them over my boots.

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   Realizing this, I untied them and pulled them off. As soon as I did, I felt her tiny hands on my shoulders beckoning me to lie back on the cot. My personal valet wasted no time in removing my pants and sweat soaked socks.  

 

I knew what was happening was highly unusual, but I had no sense of danger or apprehension. Because of the Punali, obviously, I was willing to let these young women do whatever it was that they were sent to accomplish.

 

Suddenly, two more young women, white feathers and flowers in their hair, entered carrying bowls. They appeared to be identical twins and they were breathtaking. It was difficult to judge the age of my visitors, but the twins seemed exceptionally young and vibrant. A little taller than the other two, possibly nearly five feet, their slender bodies were blessed with tantalizingly plump, round breasts. They paused momentarily, and it was obvious they were fascinated either with my underpants or what was beginning to bulge inside them.

 

As the twins set their bowls down and knelt on either side of me, Number One, I decided to call her, grasped the waistband of my shorts and pulled them slowly over my hips, down my legs, and off my feet. The twin on my left let out a muted gasp when my semi-erect organ was exposed. I assumed that, not only had they not seen a circumcised penis, they may never have seen one of such size. For that matter, considering their youth, they may never have seen one before at all.

 

White motioned that she wanted me to roll over.

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   Once I had done so, each of the girls produced a small piece of animal fur. After dipping the furs into their bowls, they began to wash me. I guessed that the cool liquid was water that had been scented with herbs or flowers. The fur was incredibly soft; possibly chinchilla. Whatever it was, the feeling against my skin was heavenly.

 

I tried to tell myself that this was most likely not meant to be a sexual rite. The last thing I wanted to do was commit a social taboo which might get me into a worse situation. But, my body had its own interpretation. One of the effects of the Punali was to heighten every sensation. Having four attractive, nearly naked, young maidens stroking me was causing my cock to expand no matter how much I consciously tried to prevent it.

 

As the twins washed my back, Number One cleansed my legs in long, slow, swipes. The second girl, Pearl I decided to name her because of her amazing teeth, attended to my hair, neck and shoulders. I was able to relax and enjoy the attention, especially when Number One and the twins went to work on my buttocks.

 

When they stopped, I assumed it was time to roll over. My cock was fully erect as I maneuvered onto my back.

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   I heard a moan from one of the twins and a hushed sigh from Number One when they saw my organ. No amount of willpower could have kept me from becoming excited under these extraordinary circumstances.

 

The girls’ motions seemed to become more sensual as they began to wash me again. The girl at my head washed my face and ears and was working on my neck and shoulders. The twins tended to my arms, chest, stomach, and abdomen. At the same time, Number One started at my feet and worked her way up my calves and thighs. My cock was fully engorged and solid; standing tall and proud. Although they tried to hide it, it was obvious they took every opportunity to steal glances at it.   

 

Spreading my legs and lifting them, Number One washed the crack between my buttocks just as the twins’ four hands converged on my pubic area. My erection throbbed when I felt the soft fur glide over my perineum and reach my scrotum. While one twin massaged my shaft, the other gently swabbed the head.

 

Their lovely bodies were so small that it appeared my cock was as thick and long as their forearms. I watched in awe for the next several minutes as they diligently cleaned me with the luxuriously soft furs; never letting their hands actually touch my skin.

 

Suddenly, the bath was finished. They placed their furs in the bowls, and I expected them to leave.

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   Happily, I was wrong. They sat back on their legs, placed their hands in their laps, and lowered their heads.

 

One of the twins spoke as if beckoning someone. Within seconds, another young woman entered the room. She was even more lovely that my four attendants. Barely more than four feet tall, her body was that of a Goddess in miniature. She wore nothing but red flowers and red feathers that had been woven into her hair, and several necklaces of red beads and shells dangling from her supple neck. The reflections from the torches gave her eyes, dark and fascinating, an exotic aura.

 

My cock stiffened even more as I gazed upon the new arrival. She could easily have had her photograph featured in travel brochures designed to lure men on Caribbean cruises in the hope of encountering tropical beauties. However, she was far too young to be the subject of such an advertisement. She stopped near the cot and stood with perfect posture.

 

“Alamadi,” she said softly as she looked into my eyes. She glanced briefly at my organ and her eyes opened wide. I am by no means exceptionally endowed.

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   My cock is probably average for my six foot height. But, in relation to her tiny body, I seemed utterly huge.

 

She dropped to her knees and took it in her hands. She ran them gently over it; as if measuring me. Ever so slowly she lowered her gorgeous ebony face until her brown lips were poised just above it. She flicked her tongue out and licked the tip, then backed away a few inches drawing a glistening strand of saliva which trailed to her lips until it snapped.

 

“Alamadi,” she said again with an intriguing smile on her face. The tone of her voice indicated she was satisfied with my size and taste. She placed her lips on me again and began to nurse me. She drew more and more of me into her warm mouth as I listened to the erotic sound of the wet friction of her lips.

 

I was in awe. I watched as her small jaws opened wide and her delicate cheeks stretched and contorted to accommodate what to her must have been an impossibly massive organ. She plunged her head up and down; sucking in more and more of me each time. Provocative moans emanated from her nasal passages.

 

Eventually, her sweet lips were sliding over nearly half of my length.

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   The twins began to lick and tongue my ears as I reached down and caressed the back of Red’s lovely head as it bobbed up and down.

 

She was bringing me to the edge of climax. I felt a rapturous, growing tension between my legs which slowly radiated throughout my body. Just as I was about to urge her to stop, she raised her mouth off of me. She arose and climbed onto the cot; straddling my hips. I could see the dark brown lips of her pussy were spread wide open, protruding through her ebony pubic hair, displaying a hint of their pink interior.

 

My drug laden mind was racing. It was obviously her intention to mate with me, but I had no idea why. Was this incredible scene just a vision induced by the Punali? If it was, it was incredibly real.

 

She raised up and held my shaft to her opening with her tiny hand. Gently, she lowered her narrow hips until her vulva made contact. She was so small and tight that it felt like there was no opening to penetrate; only a soft, slippery indentation. She repeated her attempt several times until I felt the tip of my cock slip into her. Once we were coupled, she collapsed onto my chest, reached up, wrapped her slender arms around my neck, and crushed her petite breasts against my lower chest.

 

I grasped her hips and helped her push down; forcing myself farther into her.

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   The tight tissues of her vagina seemed to relax and expand to accommodate me each time she’d thrust downward. It was a fantastic sensation to feel her tiny body gradually yielding to me.

 

I felt a soft obstruction against the head of my cock. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me that Red was a virgin. I stopped pushing and allowed her to control the force and depth of penetration. She squealed in pain as she lunged against me. I felt her hymen flexing and giving way to my intrusion.

 

With an energetic thrust and whimper of pain, she forced me into her. When her membrane ripped, I slid another few inches into her deliciously tight, smooth, unexplored duct. After a few more strokes, she managed to take more than half of me into her. She was grunting each time she plunged down. Her hot breath was moistening my chest.

 

I placed my hands on her slim back and applied more and more pressure to drive her down on me until she cried out in orgasmic ecstasy. She writhed and bucked almost uncontrollably. Raising her head, she gazed into my eyes.

 

   Her mouth was open wide and she screamed with every breath.

 

Throughout her orgasm, I continued to take the initiative. Overcome with lust, I used my strength to propel her diminutive body up and down on me. I suddenly felt two mouths licking and tonguing the insides of my thighs. I drove deeper and faster into her until her vulva was close against me; my entire length throbbing inside the tender, narrow sheath that engulfed it.

 

She placed her hands on my chest and arose until she sat astride me. Her dreamy, teary, half-closed eyes showed that the pain of losing her virginity had been replaced by the luminous glow of euphoria. She moaned with every breath and rocked her pelvis in circles to grind her clitoris against mine.

 

She placed her hands against her stomach and muttered something. She was apparently showing me where she felt my cock deep inside her. Watching her dance on me, I took her breast in my hands. They were exquisitely firm and round. Her nipples were elongated and had stiffened as a result of her excitement.

 

“Oh! Deolo! Deolo!” she screamed as another orgasm, much more potent than her first, overtook her. I felt the muscles in her vagina rippling against my cock.

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   “Ohhhh, deolo!!” she continued to cry; throwing her head back and forth wantonly.

 

I grasped her slim waist with my hands and lifted her up and down in quick, powerful jerks. The sight of my cock sliding into her minute frame was astonishing. I savored the physical and mental rush of having her vaginal essence stimulate me.

 

The pitch of her screams fell several octaves until low groans of satisfaction resonated from her lungs. She raised her hands and combed her fingers through her long hair as it bounced wildly around her shoulders. She was totally lost in passionate release.

 

A tingling sensation fluttered just behind my scrotum and rapidly washed through my entire pubic region. Watching Red bounce on me and feeling the mouths of two of the girls on my upper thighs, I grunted as I felt the muscles surrounding my prostate clinch like a boxer’s fist.

 

An enormous stream of semen shot through my cock. Another followed, and several more rushed through me into her hot cavity. Each one brought so much intense pleasure that it was almost too much to endure. One sure thing could be said for Punali: it increased sexual pleasure to an astounding level.

 

Red must have felt the hot liquid spew into her. A smile of deep satisfaction graced her lips and she swiveled her hips provocatively as I filled her.

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   When I had finished, she fell limp against my chest, panting and moaning.

 

Within seconds, she rolled off of me. Immediately my four attendants were at my side again and began to wash me with the soft furs. I remained still, catching my breath, and allowed them to soothe me. When one of the twins swabbed my cock, I realized, miraculously, that it was still rock hard: apparently another effect to be attributed to the phenomenal potion I had ingested.

 

I noticed that the other girls had removed their skirts and were naked except for their feathers and jewelry. They quickly dispatched the furs to the bowls and began sliding their velvety soft, small hands over my skin. With feathery lightness, they fondled and petted me.

 

The twin on my left opened her mouth and placed it on my chest. Moving her lips as if she were imitating a fish and licking slowly with her tongue, she explored the surface of my body. Within seconds, the other three girls’ mouths were on me as well. Eight hands and four mouths were causing erotic sensations that I had never dreamed possible.

 

Seeing no reason to restrain my continuing desire, I reached over and stroked the smooth, firm hip of one twin while my other hand ran up the warm inner thigh of her sister. She spread her legs farther apart and nestled her hips down toward my fingers as if seeking them out.

 

The twins kept moving their wet lips lower across my abdomen as the other girls sucked and nibbled up my thighs.

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   My cock was throbbing with the anticipation of their lips converging on it at the same time. I slid my hand further up the twin’s leg until I encountered her slippery slit. She sighed and rocked her dainty hips; pushing her pussy down so that my fingers were rubbing against the incredibly delicate tissue of her clitoris.

 

I felt a pair of soft lips close around my left ball as I watched one of the twins wrap hers around the head of my organ. Another pair of lips engulfed my other ball as the other twin began running her mouth up and down the upper quarter of my shaft.       

 

Their tender tongues, mouths, and lips swirled on my flesh. I was surprised that the barrage of stimulation I was receiving didn’t push me to immediate release. Although their techniques were somewhat peculiar and primitive, they were undoubtedly doing their best to impress me with their talents.

 

I heard one of the twins mutter something as she released my pulsing cock. White arouse and stood next to me. The lean, black skin of her naked body looked as smooth and firm as fine, polished ebony. Her legs, which had been covered by the skirt, were longer and shapelier than the others’. I stared hungrily at her; elated that she was apparently to be my second virgin of the night.

 

When she approached closer, I took her arm and pulled her toward me. Placing my hand at the back of her lovely little head, I kissed her luscious lips.

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   She recoiled immediately and gave me a strange, puzzled look. It was possible that the Unomo were not familiar with that form of intimacy. Nevertheless, I pulled her to me again and held her while I explored the warm interior of her mouth with my tongue. Eventually, she began to suck it almost in unison with the mouths working on my cock and balls.

 

When our lips parted, she dropped to her knees and ran her mouth down my chest and over my belly. The other three girls reluctantly moved to my scrotum to allow White unfettered access. As she moved her head toward it, I had an irresistible urge to taste the sweetness of her young, virgin pussy.

 

Leaning nearly off the cot, I grabbed her thighs and lifted her over me. I pulled her hips back until her small opening was only inches above my face. Her dark, charcoal lips were splayed open to reveal the delicious entrance to her untouched canal. Her scent was a combination of the familiar feminine aroma and the herbs that of the water she had used to bathe me.

 

When I licked her soft, silky slit, she moaned and I felt her muscles clinch in response. I bent my knees and arched my hips toward her waiting mouth; then felt her wet lips encircle me as I lapped at her tiny pussy. When I stroked her clitoris with my tongue, it was as if I had flipped on a switch inside her. Her entire body began to undulate like a wriggling snake.

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I could feel her forcing her mouth over my cock and consuming more and more of it as her head swung up and down. Her squeals and cries of pleasure filled the hut. I was sure that most of the villagers must have been able to hear her expressing her uninhibited appreciation of my efforts.

 

I wrapped my lips around her clitoris and drew it into my mouth. She pulled her head off my cock and erupted in a ferocious, unrelenting climax. She howled at the top of her lungs like a wild animal. Her body shuddered and trembled violently. Her reaction was so fervent that I was consumed with an overwhelming desire to be buried deep inside her the next time she came.

 

Before her orgasm had fully ebbed, I picked her up, turned her around, and cradled her in my arms. She might have weighed ninety pounds at the most. I dropped to my knees and laid her on her back on the cot. Her legs automatically spread open wide to invite me into her.

 

One of the twins moved to my side and grasped my organ in her hand. As I moved forward, she deftly guided it between White’s slick labia. Aware of the tremendous size difference, I was careful to go slowly; repressing my urge to drive into her in one powerful, satisfying plunge.

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“Alimadi,” she whispered through her pants for air, “alimadi. ”

 

I moved into her less than an inch or so, very gently, then retreated. I pushed again and penetrated a few more inches. I continued to make progress and tried to calculate each stroke to minimize any discomfort she might feel. Her fragile tube was deliciously wet from the combination of my saliva and her own lubrication, but it was still a remarkably snug fit.

 

I had managed to squeeze nearly half my penis into her when, surprisingly, she wrapped her slender calves around my hips and, with a guttural groan from her throat, pulled me much deeper that I had thought possible at that point. The twin removed her hand from me as I withdrew and sank deeper still with my next thrust.

 

One of the twins moved behind me, reclined on her back on the floor, and I felt her warm mouth and tongue at the base of my scrotum. She rocked her head back and forth to match the rhythm of my thrusting hips. That was all I could take. With my next stroke, I sank completely into White’s hot duct.

 

“Alimadi! Alimadi, te deolo, te deolo!” she screamed with abandon.

 

I grabbed her ankles in each hand and held them in the air, straightening her legs, as I pummeled her with hard, fast, deep strokes. Her compact, internal textures felt heavenly against the taut skin of my cock. The sensation was incredible.

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   She was so tight that I could feel the suction each time I withdrew for another plunge.

 

White thrashed and twisted; accentuating the elegant contact between us. Her lips were extended to form a small circle as she breathed heavily through her mouth. As I stared into her eyes, they suddenly opened wide. It was obvious that she was close to the edge.

 

She inhaled and seemed to stop breathing entirely for a few seconds, then she exhaled forcefully with a guttural moan vibrating from deep within her chest as she exploded for the second time. For the next minute or so, she continued to moan as her body shook and trembled.

 

“Deolooooo, deoloooo,” she cried over and over.

 

Rivers of sweat were running off me, but I maintained the speed and intensity of my movements in and out of her writhing young body. I felt an awesome pressure building inside me; like hot lava bubbling and churning in the caverns of a volcano. Releasing her left ankle, I placed my hand between her legs. Finding her clitoris, I massaged it in quick, small circles with my fingers.

 

In only a few seconds, White responded with another screaming, powerful orgasm. I slid my hand back to her ankle again and forced my cock in and out of her violently. She yelled with each breath and raised her hips off the cot driving her vulva against me.

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