Question regarding a story

[Logan]

Does anybody remember reading a story regarding an expidition to a lost city in the dessert. The city used to be a place for only female residents. They would capture the men and use them for pleasure and to of course have intercourse to continue new residents.

I would like to read it again and if the author wouldn't mind maybe a spinoff?

[coolshot]

Yeah, I would'nt mind reading that too. Sounds exciting. :D :D

[Durango24]

Never heard of the story but I'll keep it in mind for maybe a story I write.

[kokm_p]

Maybe this?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART ONE

PROLOGUE, TUESDAY, 24 OCTOBER 2000
In 1879, a small expedition set out to map the uncharted upper reaches of the African Delta. Sponsored by the National Geographic Society of London, the party consisted of six men expert in their fields: two Americans, three Englishmen and a Swede. They took with them a dozen bearers - local tribesmen familiar with the treacherous terrain. Their mission was expected to last five months, and the party set off amid much excitement and high hopes.

They were never to be seen again…

Fifteen years ago, a UN-funded team visited M'mghana, an isolated region of the Congo Basin. Their brief was to study the medical benefits of rare plants. They stumbled quite by chance on what appeared to be an old, abandoned fortress settlement. To their surprise, among the multitude of artefacts they found there - food utensils, jewels, implements and weapons - was a well-preserved leather-bound volume. It proved to be the diary of Professor Arthur J Rowston, Fellow of the National Geographic Society and leader of the ill-fated expedition of 1879.

The diary was returned to the Society in London for authentication. In due course, it was sent to the British Museum for a more detailed analysis. Its contents were so shocking that they were immediately suppressed.

Only now, with the permission of the Society and the relatives of the parties involved, can the full story be told. What follows is, by necessity, an abridged version of the diary of Arthur J Rowston DSc, FRGS (1832-1879). A number of pages were damaged beyond recovery, and, elsewhere, it has been deemed that some events are too distressing for public consumption. The more mundane details - descriptions of flora and fauna, eating habits, weather and the like - have also been expunged for present purposes. With all its faults and omissions, however, the following account has been fully authenticated and reveals, for the first time, the nightmare world into which the doomed expedition stumbled in the early summer of 1879 …


FRIDAY, 9 JULY 1879
It is five days since we left Banshasa, and we are well into previously uncharted territory. We might have travelled further were it not for Carstairs and Stanley. Their enthusiasm for the flora of these parts is such that we sometimes move less than one mile in an hour. Our American friends, by contrast, are eager to forge on. Young Jefferson Blake often outruns our native bearers in his eagerness to make progress. His companion, Joseph Henry, frequently complains at how much time the others waste, and will stride off unescorted, ignoring our guides' entreaties that he stick to the path. Karl Svensen generally keeps his own counsel, and remains the most phlegmatic of our group.

Tonight we pitch camp in the glade beneath a steep plateau. Our guides seem nervous. Svensen says they smell danger in the air. We shall see what the morning brings.


SATURDAY, 10 JULY 1879
One of our guides has gone missing. Unchappa, the head bearer, insists that the Silent Ones came for him in the night. We ask him who these 'Silent Ones' are. He shakes his head and trembles. They are a tribe of Amazon women, he informs us. They feast on men. We are in danger. We must turn back.

Jefferson Blake finds this amusing and asks if they are cannibals. No, says Unchappa, it is worse than that - they will sit on us. JB laughs louder than ever, slaps his thigh and says crudely that he'll have any number of women sit on his knee and be happy to have his way with them thereafter. But Unchappa is deadly serious. He places his hands around his nose and mouth and makes a wild grunting noise. 'Smother Sit! Smother Sit!' he tells us several times, and the other bearers fall away, shivering uncontrollably.

Joseph Henry frowns. 'Let me get this right,' he says to Unchappa. 'Are you telling us that these women will sit on our heads? That this is what you mean when you say they "feast on men"?'

Our grim-faced bearer nods furiously. He speaks quickly and it is sometimes difficult to understand his language, but the gist of it is this: these Amazons despise men and see them as their mortal enemy. They worship the Goddess V'haljanii, which in their tongue means, 'She Who Smothers Men'. They believe that each time they smother a victim they move one step closer to Paradise. To the locals they are known at the Sorrani - 'They Who Sit'. They carry no weapons, believing that their female organs render them invincible. They use their hands, their breasts, their cunts, their bellies and their asses to subdue a foe. From time to time they raid the villages. Virile males are carried off. Some are forced to mate with the women before being smothered. Others are used in face-sitting sacrifices; yet more are given to the young girls of the tribe, who use them to hone their facesitting skills.

Unchappa is convinced that our missing guide has been taken by these women, and is even now being punished in ways too dreadful to imagine. We must turn back, he insists, while we still have a chance. We are agreed, however. There is no credence to these childish superstitions. We go on.


SUNDAY, 11 JULY 1879
We have seen things today, we can scarcely believe. At noon, we came across the body of our missing companion. One of the younger natives found him. There followed a dreadful commotion. It was all we could do to stop most of the bearers abandoning our party there and then.

The man was stripped naked. His hands had been tied behind his back with vine, and his feet were similarly secured. Stanley, who fortunately has some medical training, examined the body carefully.

'He has been smothered,' he declared at last. 'From the colour of the eyes and the pronounced swelling of the cheek-bones, I should say that a considerable amount of force was used.'

Our companion motioned us to one side, away from the prying eyes and ears of the natives and whispered, 'A woman did this. Exactly as Unchappa described.'

Our American friends seemed stunned and sought immediate clarification. Stanley looked around anxiously before continuing.

'This man has been sat on and he has been raped. I know the smell of a sexually aroused woman and it is all over this poor fellow. His mouth is full of pubic hairs. They are of slightly different shades, indicating that more than one female took part in this ritual.' He lowered his voice further. 'And there is dried semen both around his penis and across his belly. The presence of loose pubes about his groin would suggest that he was taken by several women.'

Of our party, only the lugubrious Svensen kept his own counsel. The rest of us discussed the matter for a full half hour before making up our minds.

Jefferson Blake fingered the trigger of his rifle and spoke for all of us when he said, 'We are fully armed and we are men. Let these women try their worst, we are prepared for them.'

And thus we continued on our way. Our guides were very restless now, and it was only by the promise of more gold and other trinkets that we secured their fragile loyalty. We also had the guns, of course, and it became clear that though they wished to retreat, their fears of what awaited them unarmed on their journey home were greater than their fears of what might lie ahead.

[kokm_p]

In the afternoon, however, things began to go badly wrong.

Unchappa, who had gone on ahead, with Joseph Henry and two other bearers, suddenly came scurrying back with a look of great concern etched on his stubborn features. It seemed our advance guard had come across a village, down in the well of a dry valley. What had set him in a frenzy was the fact that the village was under attack: from a party of warrior Sorrani.

We hurried on at once, to where Joseph Henry and his two companions were watching from the safety of a clutch of trees. We gathered close around our friend and viewed the dreadful sight.

There must have been nearly thirty females, roaming randomly from hut to hut. Even from our lofty vantage-point, we could discern their stature. Without exception each woman was tall, muscular and naked. Their thighs were as thick and powerful as those of any man I have ever seen. Some possessed breasts the size of cannon balls. They swung majestically from side to side as the women strode up and down the village square. They wore their hair long, and often it cascaded past their broad shoulders. I saw one woman bend over and watched in awe as the giant cushions of her ass parted for my inspection. I have never seen such massive hips; and when she turned, it was with some surprise that I laid eyes on the spider's web of thick black hair that crowned her cunt and overflowed along her inner thighs and up her belly. To think that our poor guide had died between the loins of such a woman and her friends!

Suddenly a figure broke from the cover of the nearest hut. We watched as the man - for such he was - raced across the square towards the safety of the jungle. Two women moved to cut off his retreat: one blocked his route while the other threw herself forward and wrestled him to the ground.

The woman who had brought him down straddled his chest and clambered up his body. He twisted furiously, screaming and clawing at the earth with his long bony hands.

'She smother-sits! She smother-sits!' breathed Unchappa and looked away, his head lowered.

Carstairs was beside himself. 'My God!' he declared, so loudly that if it were not for the dreadful cries of the struggling native, I fear we should have been discovered there and then.

Across the way, two more Amazons came out of a larger hut, each dragging a male prisoner behind them. They threw their men to the floor and promptly sat astride their heads. One woman pulled her victim's mouth into the black sponge of her cunt, while the other plunged her giant buttocks down over her victim's face.

All three men resisted desperately. They clawed at their attackers' asses, writhing in the dirt, feet slamming up and down as they fought to throw the women from their heads.

Carstairs hands were in his lap, his big arms moving furiously. To my horror I saw that he had unbuttoned his flies, and had dragged out his erect penis. He was pumping swiftly, moaning and cursing beneath his breath. His eyes were locked on the struggling figure of the man we had first seen. When I turned back, I witnessed a most amazing sight. His would-be smotherer climbed to her feet, still clutching his head between her legs. Then, with his nose and mouth embedded in her monstrous cunt, she walked his kicking body across the village square. There she stood, her legs bent, grunting with the effort of restraining her victim as he punched uselessly at her hips.

'Oh, I wish it were me! Let it be me!' breathed Carstairs at my side.

They were words I had never expected to hear and yet I felt the same as he. It was an awesome vision. By now a dozen men had been dragged from their hiding places and were being straddled, sometimes by two or three women at a time.

'To hell with it!' yelled Joseph Henry. 'There's nothing we can do for them, let's just enjoy ourselves!'

He pushed down his pants, extracted his prick and began to stroke himself vigorously. Within seconds we had almost all succumbed. Five fully erect penises jumped in our hands, splattering the broad, green fronds that acted as our cover. Only Svensen held back, regarding us with barely disguised contempt.

As our seed dripped onto the ground, we slowly recovered our senses. We watched the final death-throes of the helpless natives. One by one the men went limp. Though a handful struggled for some time, there were to be no survivors. Several of the women screamed and we knew that they had spent themselves at the moment of their victim's death. We counted sixteen bodies when the women rose. It was unbelievable.

Carstairs rolled onto his back. 'I never thought to see such things,' he breathed. He looked across at me. 'What must it feel like?' he mused dreamily. 'To plunge one's face between such monstrous buttocks!'

'It must be paradise indeed,' I answered.

'We need to capture one,' said Joseph Henry suddenly.

I turned to him and stared. He looked at each of us in turn and remarked bluntly, 'It excited us all. Watching them do that to a man. Did it not?'

There was a long pause, in which I think we were all too ashamed to admit this truth about ourselves. In the end, I took my courage in both hands and spoke, I felt, for everyone.

'I have often dreamt of being sat on. To have a woman's ass come down on me. To know the pleasures of a gentle suffocation.' I looked around, 'From the way we have behaved, I imagine this is a longing that we all share.'

The ensuing silence answered my question as well as any words. I turned to Joseph Henry and said, 'You wish to capture one of these women and make her sit on us?'

Our American friend grinned from ear to ear. 'I don't think we'd need to make her. I would imagine she'd be more than willing.'

Jefferson Blake nodded grimly. 'The problem might be stopping her, I reckon.' He shook his head. 'These women live to smother men. It's their religion. If she gets on top of one of us, can we be sure the rest could drag her off in time?'

'We have the guns,' I suggested. 'If the worst came to the worst.'

'That's true,' conceded Joseph Henry. 'Though the sound of fire might bring the others running. And then we'd be in trouble.'

I turned to Unchappa. 'Can it be done?' I asked him. 'Can an Amazon be captured?'

He shook his solid head and looked bewildered. 'Never done!' he declared. 'Too much danger! Too much danger!'

But our minds were made up. Whatever the perils, we were determined now. We would take one of these warriors by surprise. And when she was our prisoner, we would let her loose on each of us in turn and dare her to do her worst. Challenge her to smother us as only a Sorrani could. We would know the heat of her cunt and the taste of her ass. We had seen enough to know that it would be an awesome struggle. But the pleasure would be awesome, too.

I slept uneasily that night, my dreams full of crude and vulgar images.

I do not think I was the only one …

[kokm_p]

There are 11 parts of this story.

[Durango24]

What is the rest of that story called on that website? I can't find the other 10 parts. Don't leave me hangin'. I wanna see what happens! :(

[kokm_p]

Sorry, forgot the title - Smother Jungle :)
I have this story on my site (http://kokmp.adultnations.com/toc.html), and the only thing I know about it - the author is Dark Rider.

Maybe I should post it here? But it would be 22 posts.........

[Durango24]

Okay cool. Thanks.
By the way, I write alot of stories that involve FS.
If I was to send you some, would you post them on your site and possibly put my email with them just so I can see what people think?

[kokm_p]

Sure!!!
I think I have all stories from this forum, and they all will be posted on site. But when the story is not correctly written (line breaks in each line, no paragraphs, all uppercase or lowercase) then it takes time to transform it.

[coolshot]

Great story, kokm_p, I gotta visit your site to read the rest of it, thanx for posting it. :D :bugeyes: :eyebrows: :thumbsup: