The Lost Tribe: Open Lust Ch. 03

Author's Note: All characters in this story are over 18, and all acts are consensual. This is a primal tale of a 37-year-old archaeologist's descent into desire--a slow build that unravels into something gritty, raw, taboo and extreme at times.

Expect explicit sex, fertility rituals, size kinks, exhibitionism, lesbian encounters, group sex, gaping, natural bodies and the supernatural--not your typical perky, tight MILF fantasy.

If that sounds like your thing, step inside. If not, best give it a miss.

Chapter 3

The jungle heat was suffocating.

The morning sun had barely risen, yet Faye's body was already damp with sweat as she crouched before the temple wall, brushing dirt from the newly uncovered reliefs. But it wasn't just the heat--it was the lingering fire from last night.

She still felt open, as if her body hadn't quite settled from the dream... from what she had done in the dark.

She wiped her brow, her pulse quickening as the latest carvings were revealed beneath her fingertips. The imagery was even more graphic than before--a woman, thighs spread wide, her body stretched around a massive stone phallus. Another lay on her back, legs splayed, gaping, as if in some ritualistic bliss.

The moment she saw it, something inside her tightened.

Oh, God.

She couldn't stop staring, heart hammering in her chest. The smooth, worn curves of the relief felt almost alive beneath her fingertips, as if the stone itself pulsed with memory. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, but it did nothing to ease the deep, aching warmth building inside her.

"Jesus," Jenny's voice cut through the thick air, startling Faye.

Faye jerked her hand back from the stone as her assistant stepped up beside her, hands on her hips, peering down at the carvings.

"These are really something else," Jenny said, exhaling, her eyes tracing the erotic imagery. "I mean... damn, they weren't subtle, were they?"

Faye couldn't speak. Her throat was too dry, her face burning. She forced herself to inhale slowly, to compose herself, to push down the twisting heat inside her.

"Fertility iconography," she managed, forcing her voice to stay academic, her own arousal betraying her beneath her damp shorts. "It's... uh... common in--"

"In ancient cultures, yeah, yeah." Jenny waved a hand dismissively, eyes still locked on the relief. Then, with a casual, almost teasing tone, she said, "Y'know, the women in these carvings kinda look like you."

Faye felt her entire body seize.

She turned sharply, staring at Jenny, her stomach twisting. "What?"

Jenny was still studying the reliefs, completely unaware of the way Faye's mind had just short-circuited.

"You know, curvy, big tits. You've got the same vibe."

Faye's skin prickled with heat, a fresh pulse of arousal surging through her so fast it made her dizzy. Jenny had noticed.

Noticed the curves of the stone bodies.

Noticed their likeness to hers.

She tried to think of a response--anything to deflect the conversation--but nothing came. Her tongue felt thick, her brain fogged with too many feelings at once.

Jenny finally glanced at her and frowned. "You okay? You look kinda out of it."

"I just--" Faye swallowed, then quickly shook her head. "It's the heat. I--I think I need to lie down for a bit."

Jenny nodded in understanding, already distracted by another section of the ruins. "Yeah, makes sense. You don't want to get heatstroke."

Faye barely managed a reply before retreating to the tent, her legs unsteady, her entire body on fire.

Inside the tent, the air was just as thick, just as stifling, but at least she was alone. She sat heavily on her bed, wiping the sweat from her forehead, her pulse still erratic.

She couldn't stop thinking about it.

The reliefs.

The way Jenny had looked at them.

The way Jenny had looked at her.

And at the other end of the tent, it sat there.

The massive stone phallus, still untouched since they'd brought it inside, its presence undeniable, looming, powerful.

She was so wet. Her body felt strung too tight, every nerve buzzing, begging.

She needed relief. Now.

Her gaze darted to one of the supply crates, where they had stored smaller artifacts. Not as massive as the one in the corner... but still big. Still thick.

Her breath shuddered as she opened the box and pulled out a smaller phallus, still ten inches in circumference, its polished surface cool against her trembling fingers.

She hesitated for only a second. Then, with a shaky exhale, she stripped.

Her tank top fell to the floor and then her shorts followed.

She peeled off her damp panties, stepped out of them, and cauhgt the scent of herself in the humid air.

Her body was soaked, glistening in the dim tent light.

Faye knelt on the floor, spreading her thighs, positioning the smooth stone tip against her slick, needy entrance.

The moment it touched her, she shuddered.

She dragged it slowly against herself, coating it in her wetness, teasing herself with the anticipation of what was to come.

Then, finally, she lowered herself onto it.

Her head fell back. Her mouth parted in a silent moan.

The stretch was exquisite, her walls clenching around the firm, unyielding stone, filling her completely. Her hips began to move, rocking against the phallus, riding it the way the women in the reliefs had.

She reached for her clit, circling it with a trembling finger, the pleasure spiraling higher, hotter, the humid air thick with the scent of her arousal.

She was so stretched. So full.

The images flashed through her mind--the dream, the reliefs, Jenny's voice saying she looked like them.

Her body convulsed as the climax tore through her.

She gasped, back arching, toes curling, as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

She shuddered, her entire body trembling as she slowly, shakily lifted herself off the phallus, feeling so empty, so open, her slickness still coating the polished stone.

She collapsed onto the bed, spent, sated for now. Her fingers fumbled to stash the glistening artifact beside her, her breathing still uneven. Within moments, exhaustion took her.

And then she woke to the sound of Jenny entering the tent.

Faye sat up too quickly, drawing the thing sheet against her body, heart hammering. Jenny barely glanced at her before wrinkling her nose.

"It smells funny in here," Jenny said, sniffing the air. "Like... like pussy."

Faye's stomach dropped. She scrambled for an excuse, but before she could speak, Jenny cut her off with a smirk.

"No need to apologize," Jenny said with a knowing look. "Everyone needs relief sometimes, right?"

Faye's face burned, but before she could reply, Jenny's eyes landed on something.

Faye followed her gaze--and her stomach lurched.

Her panties. The ones she'd taken off earlier, lying crumpled on the floor--stained with her dried secretions.

Jenny bent down and picked them up, holding them between her fingers.

"Damn," Jenny muttered, tilting them toward the lantern light. The dried white patches were unmistakable.

Faye could have died.

Jenny simply tossed them at her, smirking. "Guess that reminds me--we should probably get our laundry done."

Looking away, Faye's face flamed.

"Hey don't be embarrassed. I'm only kidding with you." Then, to Faye's utter disbelief, Jenny dug into her own laundry bag, pulled out a pair of her own stained panties, and tossed them onto the bed beside her.

"See mine aren't any better." Jenny grinned. "If we don't take care of this soon, the whole damn tent's gonna smell like pussy."

Faye stared at her for a moment-- catching a whiff of her younger colleague's scent--then, despite herself, she laughed.

Jenny joined in, shaking her head. "We'll head into the village tomorrow."

And just like that, the tension diffused--but Faye's pulse still pounded beneath it all.