Lela's Adventures


The sun is just peaking out over the horizon, shedding
it orange-red glow over the dim landscape, chasing
away shadows, and heralding the start of another new
day.  It is now, here in the early morning dawn that
Lela has chosen to head down to the river and bathe. 
Here in the dense, thick, forest jungle, hidden away
in the green lushness that only South American jungles
can produce, she has lived since birth, as did
generations of women before her.  She is a woman in
the eyes of her tribe now, at the tender age of
nineteen, and has the responsibilities to prove it. 
Soon she will be betrothed, and what a lucky man he
will be.  Although fairly slim and small, like most
women in her tribe, she is well developed, with full
breasts topped with upswept pouting nipples, and a
tight, round, apple of a bottom.  Both areas shake
gently as she walks through the bush, covered only in
a simple boar skin towel, and her long jet black hair
is tied neatly upon her head, where it won't get
caught in and low hanging branches.

She rises to wash in the cool river water before the
heat of the sun strengthens into an oppressive
sweltering force.  She does not mind waking so early,
as it ensures her privacy, and see gets to take all
the time she needs to relax.   Her mind wonders as she
makes her way to the waters edge, stripping and wading
in naked, up to her neck, feeling tension slip away as
the cool water envelopes her.  She dives under the
surface, in long, powerful strides, wishing she could
remain submerged forever, diving, unencumbered by
responsibility, tribal constraints, or even those of
her own body.  But soon her need for oxygen betrays
her, and she gracefully returns for air, legs forming
slow and lazy scissor motions that propel her forward.
 

She surfaces, water cascading down her sun-tanned
face, and she inhales beep in long, exhaling
similarly, enjoying the solitude.  Then, as is
becoming frequent recently, she feels the stirrings of
desire between her legs.  As she treads water, the
flow encircles her, and in her state of nakedness, the
current tugs at her sex incessantly, playfully, almost
as if a devious mystical water nymph resides in the
river, intent on arousing her.  Her hands fall to her
sides, under the water, and begins to circle her sex,
slowly at first, then increasing in intensity,
frequency, and pressure, always circling that small
nub of excitable flesh that is her center of pleasure.
 Her other hand travels to her nipple, encasing it,
still submerged, in her fingers and pulling, until the
flesh is pulled tight and is flushed, sending spikes
of sensation through her chest.  She breathes deeply
now, rapid, hurried breaths, culminating in her
climax, which leaves her shuddering and moaning
through pursed lips.  

Lela sighs as she begins to come out of her
self-induced orgasmic state, her pretty almond shaped
eyes searching the shoreline in guilty alarm, because
she always feels a little ashamed after touching
herself that way.  Scanning quickly, she sees no one,
and decides to swim to the other edge of the water
then the one she entered in, and perhaps enjoy the
fruit of the banana tree a few yards in from
shoreline.  

She leaves the water and walks on the beach, water
running down her curves, dampening the sand under her
feet, and she wishes her covering were not left on the
other side, both for comfort and modesty.  She heads
for the tree, which she can see a little ways off,
until the sound of someone in pain stops her cold.  It
is a low, moan, almost grunt-like, and is coming from
her left, near a band of small thick trees. 
Inquisitive by nature, Lela forgets her nakedness, and
investigates, moving slowly closer to the sound,
peering through dense foliage with great interest. 
She was not prepared for what she sees.  

It was not sounds of pain that was carried on the
jungle air to her ears, but rather sounds of passion,
coming from the hoarse mouth of a solider, laying on a
small army green sheet in the sand.  His rifle lays
abandoned at his side, left in favor of his penis,
large, thick and veiny in his hand, which stokes it
mercilessly.  His army pants are down around his
knees, and his eyes are tightly shut.  His muscles
bugle from his tight grip, and she cannot help but
wonder what he is thinking about behind those
shut-eyes as he pumps away.  

She begins to feel that familiar dampness return
between those nether lips, and watches intently,
forgetting her vulnerability, and enjoying the
display.  She has always been sexual, remembering be
aware of self touching that caused pleasure,
remembering squeezing her thighs together before
sleeping certain nights.  And now she was bearing
witness to this, seducing her into more thoughts of
sexuality.  She acquiesces to the her inner calling,
closing her eyes, stroking herself again, picturing
him there, to aroused to view him actually.  Caught up
in the moment, she fails too notice the subtle moaning
stopped, and almost screams when a hand grabs her by
the back of the neck, under her hair, and demands to
know who she is.  She is to frightened to respond, and
remains silent.  The soldier faces her, peering at her
through sun creased eyes, searching for answers.  He
looks her up and down, and Lela's heart races, with
excitement and fear.  She calms slightly, however, as
she notices his expression change, and senses that the
soldier no longer considers her a threat.  Lela
quietly listens as the man begins speaking to her,
telling her of his sleeping unit, not ten yards away,
under his watch.  He tells her he considers her a
threat to their safety, and should kill her right
there.  But perhaps there is another way to ensure
everyone is safe.  

Lela nods, knowingly, scared but excited, eager to be
taken by this burly soldier, her by the river.  She is
taken to a nearby tree, where he ties her arms to a
limb; high above her head with rope he removes from
his Knapsack.  She hangs there; never feeling more
exposed, vulnerable more, anxious, more.alive.  Her
nipples stand in pointed tips on her breasts,
revealing her excitement, as does the thin trail of
milky white liquid that trails down her inner thigh. 
Her skin is flushed, covered in a thin sheen of
perspiration, and her breath quick and shallow.  He
moves quickly, taking her right breast fully into his
mouth, suckling her as a child to a mother, sucking
wetly and deeply, his mouth covering her whole areola.
 One of his hands moves between her thighs, seeking
and finding her moistness, thick rough fingers
massaging her clitoris, before penetrating her
tightness.  She almost buckles in pleasure at his
insertion, and hangs languid from the rope tying her
wrists.  He fingers her for am while, opening her,
working her, until small cries of passion rise from
her parched lips.  Satisfied she is now ready to
accommodate him, he disrobes partially, and enters
her, in one steady push, painful first to her.  His
thrusts are rapid and strong, completely filling her. 
She dangles from the rope, impaled on his sex,
helpless but in total ecstasy as he pounds away right
up against the entrance to her uterus.  She climaxes
in a torrent of grunts and squeals, biting into his
sweaty neck as he follows suit, grabbing her hips
tightly, almost painfully, and forcing her even
further down upon him, until he is totally encased
with her, like a glove.  He pumps his seed into her,
in what seems to her like a never ending stream,
cursing softly near her ear, and she knows he has not
been with a woman for a long time.  

Finally, he withdraws, still semi-erect, and collapses
on the sand in front of her, breathless.  She remains
hanging, semen running down her inner legs, her sex
hot , wet and raw, the scent of sex heavy in the air. 
Her hair is plastered to her face, adhering in the
sweat, the ends covering her twitching, tortured
nipples.  

She wonders if his play with her is over, and longing
fills her face