Meet Me in New Guinea
Meet Me in New Guinea
By Dikran_O
A story for Coyotek's 2nd contest
Coyotka & Coyotek & Geno © Coyotek
Agnieszka (Angie) Felicja and the rest © Me
It started with a letter from her cousin Coyotka.
"Dear Agnieszka Felicja," it read, "can I still call you Angie like I did when you were little? Your mother told me about your fieldwork requirement for your Ecology degree, and of your interest in the south pacific islands. It so happens that I am on a dig in Papua New Guinea at the moment. I would be delighted to sponsor a visit here should you wish to explore the flora and fauna of the West Highland region. Your studies may even assist me in solving the mystery of the lost tribes. I took the liberty of contacting your professors, some of which are my colleagues as I am sure you are aware, and they would be willing for me to act as your sponsor should you choose to do your field work here."
The letter had continued but Angie hadn't needed to read any further to know that she would be spending the summer in Papua New Guinea. She jumped at the opportunity for several reasons. Firstly, the work would be relevant and interesting, even without the added attraction of helping her cousin solve an archaeological mystery. Secondly, it would be free, most students had to pay their own way to get their field qualification. Finally, she would be alone with her older cousin for the first time since she was a cub, and she strongly suspected that she had a crush on Coyotka.
Agnieszka, who preferred the diminutive Angie to the more common Agnes, had always looked up to her cousin Coyotka. She admired her looks, her casual form of beauty and the open way she had with others. Angie respected her for her accomplishments as an archaeologist and as an academic. Cousin Coyotka was famous for making first contact with primitive tribes and bringing back rare and exotic vines for the botanists to study. After inadvertently viewing Coyotka and her friend Geno in the bedroom, one lazy summer afternoon five years ago, she also desired her.
* * * * * * * *
That had been a strange day for the young Polish coyote. It was a hot Sunday in July, and they were visiting her aunt, the mother of Coyotka and her little brother Coyotek. Angie's father had volunteered to take everyone into town for ice cream and a movie, but Coyotka had begged off, claiming a headache. Coyotek whispered that she really would rather be with her friend than her family, and wished that he could stay home too. They had left the budding archaeologist and her feline friend behind.
After ice cream, Angie complained of an upset stomach and suggested that she walk back to the house to lie down until the rest returned from the movie. Secretly, she just wanted to spend time with her cousin. Since it was not very far, and in a fairly safe part of town, her parents allowed her to go back. She walked slowly, holding her stomach, until she was out of sight, and then she ran all the rest of the way. Wouldn't Coyotka be surprised to see her?
It was Angie who was surprised however. No one was about outside the house, where she had expected to find them on such a hot day. She looked up and saw that all of the windows upstairs were wide open, to catch any errant breeze. Maybe they had gone inside? She slipped in the back door and looked around the first floor. Empty. Then she heard a soft noise, like a sigh, from upstairs. She crept up, avoiding the loose and creaky steps that Coyotek had showed her while playing hide-and-seek years ago. When she rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, she could see that the door to Coyotka's bedroom was open. That's where the soft cries were coming from.
Angie pressed up against the wall and slid along it until she was beside the door. It was only open a few inches, and one would normally have to open it all the way to see inside the room, but she knew about the mirror. Coyotka had a large mirror mounted over her dresser on the wall that the door opened to. She could sit in her bed with the door open a crack and monitor the hall, reporting on the movements of her little brother to her parents when they were at that age when all siblings are enemies. Later in life, Angie would peek in and see Coyotka sitting in bed reading her archaeology texts, or watching Indiana Jones on her laptop's DVD player.
She inched closer, intrigued and attracted by the strange sounds. She wasn't worried about being seen in the mirror. The curtains at the end of the hall were drawn, and the sun was on the other side of the house, so Coyotka's room was brighter than the hallway. Anyone inside the room would see only a dark shadow where the door opening was. Angie tilted her head to the right so she could peer in.
She could see all of the bed reflected in the mirror. The light from the window beside it illuminated the two figures on it perfectly, outlining them in a shimmering dusty glow. Coyotka and her friend Geno were both on the bed. Both were naked but for the silver crosses that hung around their necks. Each had her head to the others crotch.
Geno lay on her back on the bed with her head near its foot, closest to the mirror. Coyotka was on her elbows and knees above Geno, her butt to the dresser. Angie could see Coyotka's head moving between Geno's thighs near the top of the bed, could hear soft slurping sounds and sighs of contentment from the same area.
Nearer to her point of view, Geno's heavy breasts were trapped between Coyotka's slim thighs. Coyotka's tail was up and over her back. Geno's paws were on her cousin's ass, pulling the cheeks apart to expose the open vagina and puckered tailhole. At the moment, she was flicking the tip of her tongue at the little pink stub of flesh that stood out where the lips joined.
Angie watched, fascinated. She had heard of this, had thought about it, had even let one of her female schoolmates kiss and fondle her, but it had not moved her like this did. She held her breath as Geno lifted her head up and licked the length of her cousin's pussy, mixing her salvia with the juices that already glistened there. Geno licked the outside, circling the clit, and then she stuck her tongue deep inside, to lick there also. As the feline repeated this sequence Angie felt herself grow warm and wet. She pressed one paw against her jeans, hard, but she did not dare open them here.
Occasionally Geno would pause and stretch her head back to moan in satisfaction. When she did, Angie could see the droplets of Coyotka's fluids glistening on her whiskers. Geno never neglected Coyotka for long though. After enjoying the moment, she would return to lapping at a vagina that was growing wetter and redder. Angie saw Geno's digits clench her cousin's buttocks as Geno pressed her face into Coyotka's twat. Geno shook her head vigorously against Coyotka, and must have been doing something delicious with her tongue because now it was Coyotka's turn to lift her head and moan, a moan that threatened to turn into a howl. Coyotka Half turned her head toward the mirror. She was biting on her lip to keep from crying out. Angie could see that she still had her little pince-nez glasses on.
Geno had released one cheek to use her digits on the sopping hole. Her thumb disappeared and reappeared regularly, rubbing Coyotka's clit between plunges. Angie rubbed herself too, through her jeans. Coyotka gasped and moaned between Geno's thighs, too far gone to continue pleasuring her friend. There was a muffled scream of ecstasy, a sudden gush of fluids. Geno sealed her cousin's hole with her mouth and made satisfied, swallowing noises. At the other end of the bed, Coyotka's head was moving again.
Angie backed away at that point, although the sounds of the feline's mounting orgasm followed her all the way down the stairs. She slipped into the downstairs bathroom and shed her jeans and panties as quickly as she could. With one paw spreading her lips, the other circling her clit, she leaned against the sink and finished what watching the two upstairs had started.
Angie had buried her sodden panties deep in the trash bag in the kitchen. Then she slipped out the back again. Moving around until she was under Coyotka's window, she waited, listening, until the noises from inside returned to normal conversation. Returning to the front of the house, she made a noisy show of entering, calling out her cousin's name loudly.
Angie never told Coyotka about what she had seen that day, she never told anyone. But the image never left her either. All thorough the rest of high school and the first two years of university, the image competed with the fumbling advances of adolescent males and females alike. Somehow, their efforts never quite lived up to what she imagined it would be like with her cousin. At 21, she was still technically a virgin.
* * * * * * * *
Coyotka had sent the itinerary by email from a hotel in Mount Hagen, deep in the interior of Papua New Guinea, or PNG, as she referred to it in her letters. Angie had first to fly into Port Moresby and then take an Air Niugini flight to Mount Hagan's 1900-foot airstrip. Mount Hagen was bigger than it looked on the map, PNG's third largest city, with three hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. It was also the capital of the West Highland district. Looking through the small round window of the ancient propeller-driven aircraft, Angie could see mountains to the west, a river valley to the east, and the long line of a single highway. When the plane circled the gravel strip in preparation to land, she could also see the familiar form of her cousin's antique Land Rover parked at one end of the runway.
She must have known that the plane would end up parked at that end of the runway, not forty feet from where she had parked the Land Rover. Coyotka stayed inside the vehicle, in the shade, until Angie appeared on the steps of the aircraft. Then she stepped out into the sun and waved to her young cousin.
Angie had not seen her in over a year, but Coyotka had not changed. She had dark hair on her head and shoulders, cut in bangs in the front and long in the back, down below her shoulders. As always, her black-rimmed pince-nez glasses were perched on her snout, it would probably take a hurricane to knock them off. She wore khaki shorts and a matching work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Rich reddish brown fur showed, turning white on the legs, forearms and chest. Angie blushed, remembering that the white fur extended all the way down to Coyotka's sex, and that she also had patches of white on the inside of her thighs, invisible under the shorts. Heavy hiking boots, knee-high socks and a rigid sun helmet completed her ensemble.
Angie looked much the same herself, they were relatives, after all. Her hair was lighter and cut shorter. She was also slimmer and did not wear glasses, but they could pass for sisters, and that thought pleased Angie. She had brought tropical gear but had not worn it on the long flight. She wore cut-off jeans, a cotton Tee shirt and running shoes with no socks instead.
She ran to where her cousin waited beside the Land Rover and threw herself into Coyotka's arms.
"Hi ya cuz." Coyotka greeted her. "Ready to head out to the field?" She indicated the Land Rover and looking in the back, Angie could see that it was fully loaded.
What? Right now?" Angie was surprised. I thought that we would spend a couple of days in town to acclimatize," and get to know each other better, she added to herself.
"No time to waste." Coyotka replied. "The permit to dig only lasts a month. We can spend some time in Mount Hagan afterwards analyzing and cataloguing the finds. This town is dead anyway, except on Saturday when they the Coffee and Tea plantation folks come in for market. Let's go."
Coyotka helped Angie collect her bags from beside the plane and strap them to the roof of the Land Rover's cab, between a pair of caged spotlights. "Back's full of gear and supplies." She explained. Minutes later they were headed west, out of town.
As they rode along the interior highway Coyotka told Angie about the local population and their customs. How there were dozens of minority dialects spoken in the area, as many as there were sentient species, but that most of the locals spoke Melpa or Gawigl as well as the official language, English. She gave Angie a phase book to use if she encountered any of the native population who couldn't. Pointing out the colourful string bags, she explained how they stripped the bark from certain trees to weave the strong strings. These were then dyed in bright colours and painstakingly knotted together to make the bags called bilums that served to hold almost all of one's possessions. She promised that they would be able to visit a village where Angie could buy some authentic bilum bags before they were done.
"Tell me about your dig cousin." Angie asked when Coyotka had run out of local lore to pass on.
"It's a site on the far side of the mountain, off a dirt lane called Koka Road. It leads to some old abandoned coffee plantations." Coyotka handed her a map of the area with the site marked in red. Angie saw that Koka Road ran around the north side of Mount Hagan, parallel to another lane marked'Koki Road'. She pointed that out. "A lot of the trails and lanes have similar names," Coyotka replied, "that's something you'll have to watch out for if you take the Land Rover out. I got lost the first time I was out here. I was told to take Koki Road but ended up on Koka and tried to get back by driving cross-country. That's how I found the site we're headed for now. Otherwise, I would have driven right past it on the other road. Even the locals have difficulty with the names because the maps were made by foreigners, the sounds don't exist in the local dialects."
Coyotka returned to talking about her site. "I believe that I've found a village once inhabited by the Thylacine. They were a tribe of marsupial canines, thylacinus cynocephalus, also known as the 'Tasmanian Tiger' because of the stripes on their backs. They were neither a true canine nor a feline. They were large, larger than most of the local species. They had a huge jaw and long sharp fangs. They were cannibals." Angie gasped in shock. Coyotek continued.
"Their society was already dying out before the European species came to this part of the world. Only a few Thylacine survived into the twentieth century, the last died in Hobart, Australia in 1936. There have been several reports of them here in the interior of PNG however, although never any physical evidence. They are sort of the local 'Bigfoot'. I'm hoping to discover how they lived and maybe what caused them to die off. That's where you come in. I want you to look specifically for evidence of changes in the local ecology. Did the climate change significantly? How long have the current plants been growing in this area? Is there evidence of wild animal species that have also gone extinct around the same time? That sort of thing."
Angie took it all in as Coyotka, a consummate professional, detailed their work schedule. It looked like they were going to be very busy for the next two months, both in camp and back at the offices Coyotka had rented to use as a lab afterwards. Angie wondered when they might find time to relax. She started to fantasize about them bathing together under a jungle waterfall, standing knee-deep in crystal-clear water while they rubbed shampoo into each other's pelts. First the back, then the front. The rest of the world faded away.
* * * * * * * *
Six pairs of eyes followed the progress of the Land Rover from a sheltered spot high on the side of Mount Hagan. When the vehicle turned off the highway and onto Koka Road the leader of the group nodded to the others and they gathered up their weapons. Placing other essential items in their bilums they prepared to move out.
The leader was pleased with the speed in which they organized themselves. Secluded spots had been selected on the parallel roads for the ambush the day before and they had plenty of time to get there and prepare. The vehicle had nowhere else to go but down the road, they just had to get there first and wait for the sound of it approaching.
As he stepped out from under the leafy branches they had placed to cover their observation post, the sun beat down hard on his naked back and head. It made hard shadows under his long, strong jaw and glinted off his pointed fangs. He was not afraid of being spotted though, the dark stripes on his reddish hide blended in perfectly with the distinct shadows cast by the jungle foliage. Waving his warriors forward, he led them down the trail to the ambush site.
* * * * * * * *
The road, if you could call it that, wound along, climbing steadily as it circled the north side of the mountain. It was narrow and bumpy, just two ruts in the dirt, a continuous gap through the thick forest, but the Land Rover was designed for worse and while they went slowly, they went steadily. Coyotka was silent now as she concentrated on navigating the tortuous route. Angie seemed to be absorbed in the scenery anyway.
Almost an hour after turning onto Koka Road, barely halfway to the site, she saw a tree down across the lane, blocking it completely. She hit the brakes, sending the daydreaming Angie rocking forward until the seatbelt stopped her. Her own head bounced back off the headrest, but nothing was out of place. Coyotka was glad that she had her glasses fitted with no-slip pads to grip the short hairs of her snout. They hardly ever came off, no matter what the circumstances.
The tree had not been there the week before when she had last visited the site, but dead trees rotted out quickly in the rain forest and it was not unusual to find new blockages even hours after finding the road clear. Coyotka kept a bow saw and axe handy for cutting a path through the smaller ones, and used the Land Rover's winch on the larger trees. Coyotka shut the engine off and climbed out to examine the blockage. Angie followed.
The tree was only about eight inches across, small enough to saw through and roll off the track. It was horizontal, about three feet off the ground and almost level, being held up by its larger branches at one end and the stump where it was broken at the other. Coyotka noticed that the branches were full of green leaves, and that didn't seem right. She felt the fur along her spine stiffen and she looked more carefully at the stump. Fresh, clean, living wood was showing.
"This tree has been felled," She exclaimed, "and recently too!" Her sense of danger increased. She had left her web belt with the holstered pistol under the driver's seat while in town. She spun around and lifted one leg to sprint back to get it, and that's when the Thylacine attacked.
Coyotka could hardly believe her eyes, but there they were, six large males, similar to canines but with long powerful jaws, conical tails and striped backs. They came out of the undergrowth, three from each side, and they grabbed her and Angie before they could run or even scream. She struggled against them, kicking at their shins and snapping at their arms, but they were too big, too strong. Two held her at arm's length between them while the third pulled her arms behind her back and tied them there.
Angie was getting the same treatment. Coyotka saw that the Thylacine had used the tree-bark string to tie her forearms together behind her back also. They swung Coyotka around until she was standing just in front of the Land Rover, facing forward, and pulled Angie up beside her. Then they forced the two helpless females to their knees. One warrior stood behind each of them, holding their heads between massive paws, while the rest stood in a line in front.
They were dressed similarly in leafy skirts woven with more of the tree-bark string. Their legs, torsos and heads were mostly bare, but they had more leaves bound around their ankles, wrists and brows. Each carried at least one bilum bag slung across his chest. Some held wooden spears with pointy flint heads tied to the ends, others had clubs made from smooth river stones strapped on the root ends of small trees.
They were large and powerfully built. Their fur was reddish, lighter on the chest and belly but darkening steadily toward the back. Horizontal stripes crossed their spines from the base of their necks to the small of their backs and then up along their tapered tails. Similar marking on their faces made it difficult to tell where jaw ended and neck began. It was perfect natural camouflage for the mountain jungle. They stood in a rough semicircle, rubbing their bellies and licking their lips hungrily.
One was distinguished by his decorations. The largest, obviously the leader, wore a buffalo skull as a helmet and two tiger skulls on his shoulders. One of the tiger skulls had gold fillings in its teeth. He carried no weapon, but he wore two elaborate bilum bags. The broad, colourfully woven straps criss-crossed in a way that made his massive chest muscles stand even further out. He reached into one of them and drew out a long flint knife. Its handle was wrapped in leather that still had bits of grey fur stuck to it. Coyotka could not help but wonder what species it was from, and whether it had been sentiment.
The chief stepped up to Coyotka and ran the side of the flint knife along her jaw, forcing her to lift her head.
"Keneng women keyi you yi dian wan." He said over his shoulder to his group. Coyotka did not recognize the dialect. It wasn't either Melpa or Gawigl, or one of their derivatives. The leader took a pace sideways to stand in front of Angie. "Zoa Gao! Nimen kan! Zhemma xaio, zhemma mei! Jintian hen hao wan."
Coyotka had no idea what he was saying, but he was obviously delighted. He poked and prodded Angie, squeezed her arms and pinched her cheeks before feeling her small, firm breasts. She began to shake uncontrollably. He moved back to Coyotka and did the same to her, lingering with her larger, but no less firm, mammaries in his paws. Coyotka shuddered at his touch. What parts of the body were most desirable to cannibals she wondered?
"Wo bu yao chi jeige xiaojie," he said with a laugh, "ta keyi chi wo!"
The leader stuck the knife back in the bag. He reached behind and pulled at the strings that held his skirt in place. A moment later he had it off and handed it to one of his warriors. He removed the bags and his helmet as well. He stood before Coyotka, naked except for the tiger-skull epaulettes and leafy bracelets.
He was an impressive sight, one that Coyotka would not have minded seeing in other circumstances, on stage at the local boy bar for example. The chief's abdomen was ridged, his thighs were large and hard, the veins in his arms stood out against the muscles, and the cock that hung between his legs was huge, just huge. It was also rising, the tip appearing as the skin stretched tighter and tighter.
The chief looked at his warriors, two of which were waving their paws anxiously. He pointed to one and the eager volunteer dropped his club and jumped out of his skirt. He was not as large or strong as the leader, but he was no less well endowed. He stepped up in front of Angie, a grin on his face and a paw on his penis, stroking it hard.
Coyotka realized that they were going to live a little while longer at least. Unfortunately, this situation was not new to her. Having spent the last few years in the jungles of Central America, Africa and Asia she had encountered many secluded tribes where sex served as a handshake. Male dominated societies mostly, they seldom asked before engaging in what, to them, was social intercourse. At least it wasn't horny living vines again, she sighed. Coyotka closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and prayed that it would be over soon.
She felt the warmth of his blood-engorged cock as it entered her mouth before it actually touched the back of her throat. She closed her lips around it as well as she could, it was so thick. She tried to keep her mouth moist so that it would slide easier. He kept pressing it forward, the tip sliding across the roof of her mouth and down her throat until it could go no further. It was so long that Coyotka's nose did not even touch his belly before he started to pull it out again. The warrior behind her held her head steady. The chief soon fell into a steady rhythm, with one paw on the top of her head to steady himself, rocking his hips back and forth to plunge his stiff rod repeatedly down her throat.
Coyotka worked her throat to produce warm, wet saliva to surround him with when he filled her. She raised the tip of her tongue to tickle the underside of his shaft. She even squeezed it with her lips as it neared the turning point, sucking a bit on the tip before he pressed forward again. All these would speed things up, she hoped. She also hoped that his endurance did not match his proportions. He continued, grunting and gasping in satisfaction. Operating automatically, Coyotka let her mind drift, wondering if they would kill them there or take them back to their village first. She would love to see what their village looked like.
A cry brought her back. She had forgotten about Angie. The poor young thing! Still held firmly by the warrior behind her, Coyotka swivelled her eyes. Angie was struggling against the grip of the Thylacine that held her, her eyes wide in panic. The warrior in front of her had both paws on her ears, helping to hold her still. He was up on his toes, knees bent, his hips bucking wildly as he drove his cock repeatedly into her open mouth. Coyotka could see that Angie couldn't handle it. She was in danger of choking!
Since she had been cooperating the grip on her head was not so tight. Coyotka took the opportunity to moan, jerk her head and roll her eyes in Angie's direction. Disturbed, the chief looked hard at her for an instant before he got the message. He barked something out at the over-excited trooper. The warrior immediately pulled his throbbing penis out and Angie sucked down a deep breath. The chief chided the young Thylacine, who proceeded to sink his prick in slower and more carefully, almost tenderly. He pulled it out all the way each time, allowing Angie to take a full breath between each plunging. She responded by pressing her lips to it as it withdrew, and Coyotka saw her tongue lick the tip as it re-entered.
Satisfied that her young cousin would survive the encounter, if not the diner engagement afterwards, Coyotka concentrated on bring the chief to a conclusion. Sucking the tip and squeezing the shaft she leaned into him as far as the warrior behind her would allow. Soon there were little breaks in his rhythm as his composure gave way. He sped up the rate of his thrusting, rolling his hips to drive his cock around inside her mouth. She held him in, kept him engaged, knowing that losing contact would only delay the inevitable. His strokes became short, swift and deeper as he neared climax.
Coyotka was prepared for him to come in her throat, but unconsciously tried to pull back as she sensed the eruption. To her surprise, the chief immediately pulled his prick out of her mouth and turned to one side. Pulling it sideways between her jaws, he continued to hump her mouth, but now the tip was outside and pointed in a safe direction. He barked and the other Thylacine did the same with Angie. Now the two were facing each other, cocks sliding back and forth across the coyotes' tongues in synch with each other, almost like a ritual dance. When they came, they came together, and the spooge flew past each of the females' faces, missing them by less than an inch. Coyotka could see the relief in Angie's face and suspected that it mirrored her own.
The chief slowed his stoke, grunting and mumbling to himself in that strange language of theirs. Coyotka pressed down on the shrinking shaft with her lips to milk all the cum out of it before any got in her. A considerate kidnapper, the chief gently held her jaws apart and moved, keeping the tip well away from her mouth. He stepped back and sighed in satisfaction.
Now they would kill them, Coyotka supposed, but she was wrong.
The chief waved his arms and the guards pulled her and Angie to their feet. While they held them up two more stepped up and grabbed the coyotes' shorts. Coyotka struggled only an instant before giving up. Glancing at Angie, she saw her cousin try to kick the Thylacine, but she missed and her sneaker went flying into the jungle. Bad news if they had to walk to the village, Coyotka thought.
The warrior undid her shirt, having some difficulty with the western buttons. He left it hanging open. Coyotka had not worn a bra in this hot climate and her breasts jutted out of the shirtfront. Beside her, Angie's smaller breasts were uncovered as they pulled her shirt and bra up to her shoulders. The warriors paused then, looking around before settling their gaze on the Land Rover. Pointing to it, they picked up the two females and lay them on their backs, one above each fender.
Coyotka raised her bare legs off of the hot metal. Angie did the same. The warriors may have taken that was an inadvertent invitation, because they hopped onto the Land Rover's utility bumper, one on each side of the winch, and between the legs of the unfortunate coyotes. A pawful of spit and they were ready to go. Grabbing the females by their hips, they simultaneously pulled them in to their waiting erections.
Coyotka felt the tip poke about before it found the hole, and she was glad for the moisture he had provided. No less large than the previous two, the new male split her with his club-like penis. He inched it in, in short ever deepening strokes. Coyotka could feel herself responding, growing moist inside, despite the violation. Was it self-defence, to keep from being torn apart? Whatever the reason, the grinning daemon above her smiled broadly as she became wet and lengthened his stoke. His paws on both sides of her, holding himself up above and off her, his feet planed solidly on the bumper, he swung the full length of his cock in and out of her with great abandon.
Coyotka looked over at Angie on the far side of the hood. She had her head turned to Coyotka. Her tongue was lout as she panted grunting softly in time with her partner's thrusts, but her eyes were blank, unseeing. Coyotka was afraid that the young coyote's mind might be fracturing. She had to give her something to focus on. She called out to her.
"Angie, remember that Christmas when we all went sledding?"
The young female's eyes cleared and sought out the familiar voice. "Huh?"
"The Christmas that we went sledding. You, me and Coyotek. You and Coyotek were eight and I had to pull you both back up the hill."
She continued to talk to her cousin, reminding her of the happy times in her youth, while the pair of warriors pounded their pussies. It was hard to concentrate, made more so by that extra-large pecker was doing to her insides. Her fluids now running freely, the stiff shaft slid along, filling her completely, stimulating her clit and rubbing the tender spot on the roof of her vagina. As if he knew what she liked, the warrior dipped his hips with each thrust to maximise contact with the sensitive spots. Whatever level of social and technical development this tribe had reached, she thought, they had achieved a rare, high level of sexual achievement. She could feel the tissues inside her swell, gripping his cock tighter as if trying to keep it inside. He must have felt it too, as he smiled down on her and increased the pace.
Coyotka had to stop talking. To her left Angie was looking up at the warrior above her, oblivious to her cousin's words now in any event. Her tongue still lolled, her eyes were unfocused again, but the expression on her face indicated a different kind of oblivion. Short, sharp yips stated coming from her and her warrior drove himself even harder.
Coyotka could have tried to resist, but let herself go. Later, if she lived long enough to get the chance, she may have the opportunity to take her revenge. For now, she let the animalistic sensations take over, and she wrapped her long, strong legs around the Thylacine's hips. She planted the heels of her heavy hiking boots into the crack of his ass and jerked him down hard onto her aching cunt.
"You wanna fuck?" She snarled up at his startled face. "Then fuck!" She pushed him back up with her knees and then drove him down into her again, and again, and again.
The jungle warrior finally got the picture and joined in with a yip, their combined strength slamming them together with enough force to drive her swollen clit against the bones of his pelvis. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, remembering the last time she had felt that much meat moving inside her. A ball of fire was growing inside her, trying to get out. He pulled back off her, pressed his thumb to her clit and massaged it hard. The action provided the avenue the fire needed to escape, and it exploded from her, soaking her thighs and running down her ass to drip and sizzle on the hot metal.
The warrior continued to rub, plunge and thrust for another minute, the sensation driving her wild. Then he pulled himself out of her completely and pulled her closer to the edge of the hood. His prick standing straight up now, he massaged it by running it up and down against the swollen lips of her pussy. The lips parted, tried to envelope his thick cock, but he didn't bring it down far enough to be trapped inside again. He angled it outward and moaned. She felt his balls jerk against her ass as the cum spurted out like a fountain, arcing through the air to fall on the ground beside the Land Rover's tire.
Recovering from her orgasm, she could hear Angie having one of her own three feet away, on the other side of the hood. Her partner had also pulled out to spill his seed on the ground. Was their some taboo against leaving their reproductive fluids inside their future diner, Coyotka wondered? Sort of a 'don't play with your food' tenet? Maybe the sperm was considered sacred, not to be spent in the lowly victims. An interesting anthropological question, one that she doubted she would be around to publish a paper on unfortunately.
The chief pointed to the hood of the land rover and spoke to one of his warriors. The Thylacine ran into the bushes and returned a moment later with a large gourd. He pulled out the wooden stopper and upended it over the hood, pouring clear, cold water on the hot metal. The water hissed at first, and the cooling metal pinged. When these had ceased and the hood was cool, the chief indicated that the two females should be rolled inwards onto the more comfortable area.
Coyotka was glad for the consideration, her ass had been burning up on the fender. The cool wet metal felt good on her bare chest and she was relieved to have the weight off her bound arms. Also, her snout was now just inches from that of Angie. She turned her head to find her young cousin staring back at her, a tear in her eye.
"Are they going to kill us now cousin?" Angie asked in a trembling voice.
Before Coyotka could answer, she felt a paw on her tail, lifting it up and laying it along her spine. A second paw gripped one of her buttocks and pulled it to one side. She felt a digit enter her vagina, swish and withdraw. A second later she felt the digit spreading her juices around her tailhole. A sharp intake of breath from Angie indicated that she was getting the same treatment.
"Oh God, will you pricks just give it a rest." Coyotka mumbled into the hood of the Land Rover. But they did not.
The digit made several round trips, picking up natural lubricants and smearing them about her anus before venturing inside. It felt like a thumb, although she wasn't sure how she knew that. The angle of entry perhaps. It eased into her, stretching the puckered orifice in a not-unpleasant way, but Coyotka clenched her sphincter automatically in revulsion. That was probably a mistake, she reflected later, because his thumb was already past the thickest part, the pad, clenching only served to suck it in further. It probably made her look eager. In any event, he twirled his digit inside her once or twice and withdrew it.
He had a paw on each butt cheek now, pulling them apart to expose the hole. An instant later, she felt the tip of his cock at the entrance, pressing lightly, lining itself up. It felt wet, he must have lubricated with something. Spit, vegetable oil, her cum? It didn't matter. The way these natives were endowed a bucket of lard wouldn't make much difference. Coyotka tried to look over her shoulder to see what she was in for, but couldn't twist far enough around to see. She could see the Thylacine that was posed behind Angie, smearing something glossy onto his erection. It looked like they had saved the best, or at least the biggest, for last. Poor Angie, she thought, poor me.
Without warning, the Thylacine's cock slid into her tailhole like an icebreaker clearing a channel through the frozen harbour, unstoppable, inevitable. One moment the tip was resting against her hole, the next it was driving through her, forcing cheeks, sphincter, and hipbones out of the way. Coyotka gasped. She had not felt a sensation like this since she had taken an arrow in the gut. The sensation of things inside you not being where they were supposed to be, mixed with the feel of the foreign object in their place. It made her feel displaced, almost detached from herself. But while the arrow had gone in with a painful ripping sensation, her expanding anal ring was reporting something entirely different, something she did not want to acknowledge.
The penis started to withdraw, and her tailhole contracted as it tapered. She felt relief, or at least a lessening of sensory input. Then it reversed and she was being stretched again. This time she could feel the ridges and lumps of his penis as they went in. The sensation she had felt the first time was back again, more distinct this time. By the third rotation, she could read each bump and vein and she knew what the feeling was. By the fourth, she was sweating and gasping, because the feeling was good, damned good.
Coyotka had studied primitive sexual practices in university of course, she didn't want to mistake ritual dildo for a mixing utensil on a dig. She recalled one professor describing homosexual societies like the Spartans. In cold clinical tones, he had described the attractions of being on the receiving end of anal sex. Apparently, the rectum was lined with some of the most sensitive and receptive skin, and the wider it was stretched, the more that came into contact. Therefore, he had concluded, the thicker the object inserted, the more pleasurable the sensation. She had been a doubter then, she wasn't anymore.
Looking to Angie again she could see confusion and shock on the young coyote's face. She probably had not attended the anal sex lecture as part of her ecology studies, Coyotka thought. Now she would be wondering why she felt pleasure when she expected pain. She would be questioning her morals, wondering if she wasn't a slut at heart. Coyotka called to her, tried to explain the conundrum.
"Angie, listen to me." Oh, that felt goood a little vice inside her said as the massive cock continued to piston in and out of her. "What you're feeling, it's normal." The hell it is, normal males aren't built like that Shut up. "It's just a physical reaction to external stimulus of sensory tissue." It's the reaming of which you're dreaming. "It has nothing to do with love or desire." Oh -My - God. "Don't feel bad about yourself for feeling this way. And don't forget to get his number! If we live, the logical side of her added.
The warrior was making each stoke count now. He pulled out slowly, until the tip was barely touching, then he sunk his shaft full length in one decisive thrust, making his balls slam against her still sensitive cunt. Out and in, slow and fast, hot and hotter. Her breath came in little gasps, her eyes widened with each impact. Coyotka was having trouble talking again. Angie was gasping too, but she was focused on Coyotka now.
"Cousin ..."
"Call me Coyotka."
"I saw you and your friend." Angie moved her head closer to Coyotka.
"Huh?"
"I saw you and Geno. That summer afternoon six years ago, when the rest of us went to the movies. I came back and saw you in the bedroom. I never told you. I ... it ... I liked it. It made me ... I ..." now their snouts were touching and Angie spoke barely above a whisper.
"I know." Coyotka whispered back, tenderly. "I could smell it on you. I found your panties. I wanted to ... but you were so young. I hoped that someday you would come see me again."
"Coyo." Angie's mouth found hers and they fit together naturally. Lips sealed to lips, tongues exploring, eyes closed as they breathed each other in. The intense sensations from behind mingled with the delightful taste of her cousin's mouth. The still-cool metal on her breasts, the hot sun on her back. She moaned without breaking contact, without pausing, and Angie groaned in response. She pressed her mouth hard against her cousin's as the sensations overwhelmed her, trying to wrap her tongue around the other, to pin it down.
It came as a shock, after the previous airborne ejaculations, when she felt the hot wad of warrior cum shoot deep in her ass. As he came, he jammed his cock as deep as he could and held it there, hips jerking and balls slapping her twat. Coyotka came again then, opening her mouth to gasp. Angie licked the edges of her mouth and nipped gently at her lips. A moment later and the young coyote was gasping too as her warrior drained into her. They lay like that for minutes, nose to nose, lip to lip, trembling as a pleasure so intense it could hardly be endured coursed through them.
The last two warriors stepped back, their retracting cocks giving them one last thrill as they pulled out. Coyotka could hear them behind her, talking softly in their strange tongue. She rolled on her side so that she could see them, and Angie, as the final act played out.
The chief looked at the sky. He consulted the shadows of the trees. He sniffed the air. He looked at Coyotka and his face went sad. He shook his head and pointed at the sun. She understood, it was time. Nodding her head, she lay back on the hood of the Land Rover facing Angie.
"You have to be brave now Angie." She said, in as strong a voice s she could muster. "Whatever happens, be brave."
Angie nodded and closed her eyes. Coyotka turned back to the chief and jerked her head to indicate that they were ready for him now. The chief had put his skirt and buffalo helmet back on and had re-slung his bilum bags. Reaching into one, he retrieved the long flint knife. It looked very sharp. He held it parallel with the ground as he approached the helpless females. With an almost regretful shake of his head, he reached down with his free paw to steady Coyotka, and then he swept the knife down and across.
She expected it to be more painful. She expected blood to spray. She thought that she would feel the life drain out of her. But she only felt a tingling in her arms as he moved to Angie. It wasn't until he saw him slice the cord that bound her arms in one swoop that she realized that she too had been freed. Coyotka went to stand up but there was not enough blood back in her arms yet to push up with them. She rolled onto her back and slid down the hood until her boots touched the ground but her legs were too weak from the marathon molestation to support her either. She leaned against the vehicle's grill.
The Thylacine were already gone, absorbed back into the jungle that produced them, leaving hardly a paw print. Coyotka looked around. They had removed the barrier during the anal assault and the lane was clear. Nothing in the Land Rover had been disturbed. Even their shorts and underwear were folded neatly on the ground. She did up her shirt and helped Angie to stand.
Angie took in the scene. "Where did they go? Why didn't they kill us?" Her eyes went wide with new fright. "Do you think that they will be back, while we are at the dig?"
Coyotka had moved to the back of the Land Rover and dropped the tailgate on the cargo compartment. She pulled a large wooden crate with heavy metal hasps and locks onto it. She lifted the lid and started to take items from inside it: A sawed-off shotgun, two machetes, a second pistol and holster. She laid all these on the tailgate and surveyed the items that remained in the box: chrome handcuffs, leather harness, a small beaded whip, a large purple dildo, condoms, lube and scented oils.
"If they do," the experienced archaeologist said, "we'll be ready for them."
* * * * * * * *
The Thylacine filtered through the dense underbrush and wove between the large jungle trees. They moved silently, and hardly disturbed the wildlife of the forest. The uphill hike was gruelling, especially after the recent physical activity, but years of conditioning for their roles had made them hard and durable, a necessity for what they had to do.
Less than two miles away from where they had ambushed the Land Rover the chief, who was leading, saw a glint of sunlight on metal. He signalled the group to slow and spread out. Cautiously they approached the parallel road. Rangers and the occasional army patrol were known to rove these old plantation roads, and they did not want to be seen. The chief peered out from between the broad leaves of a low tree, the stripes on his face blending in with the shadows cast by the large serrated leaves.
There was a blue passenger van parked on the lane, the kind used by tourists to visit the plantations and the parks around Mount Hagan. The engine was off. At the moment, the only occupant was a large rat in the driver's seat. The rat appeared to be sleeping. The chief checked for signs of others nearby, then he whistled like one of the jungle birds to signal his group forward. They broke from the bushes at a trot and converged on the van.
The warriors pulled the doors open all at once, and the sudden noise woke the rat. It sat up and looked around in a panic, these jungles were not a safe place to be alone, he knew. He turned to the passenger seat and the grinning face of the chief, still wearing his buffalo-skull headdress, was only an inch from his. He reared back, startled.
"Take that silly thing off." The rat demanded in English, turning back to start the engine. "And everybody wear your seatbelts this time. We don't need another bloody citation."
The driver handed a clipboard to the chief as they bounced down Koki Road toward Mount Hagan. The logo on the papers it held read 'Papua Erotic Adventures'. The chief, helmet-less now, paused to wipe some of the stripes off his face with a damp towel and remove the porcelain fangs before starting the paperwork for today's performance. Without the stripes and fangless his jaw looked much shorter, and he looked much more like the Chinese jackal that he was, like the whole troupe was. He started in on the papers, confirming that the adventure ordered had been delivered in good order and noting any injuries for insurance purposes.
The driver leaned over to read what he was writing. "So it went off okay?" The rat asked.
"No problem, but these bloody sex tourists are getting weirder each time. I can't wait until we have enough saved up to get back to Hong Kong and rejoin the circus." It had been a mistake bringing his acrobatic troupe here to Papua New Guinea he knew now. There was not enough demand for acrobats and it was an expensive place to live. The erotic tourist service had been their last resort. There was still a demand for muscular young males of indiscriminate sexuality in this part of the world. Another few months and they could put all this behind them.
He checked over the work order, slowly. His English reading skills left something to be desired. Two, what was that word, boxes? No, foxes. 'Two foxes on Koki Road. Cannibal ambush. Start with oral and finish with anal. Cum in the bum'. The driver was still leaning over and reading, glancing at the lane occasional to keep the van in the middle.
"Two foxes eh? Don't see many of them around here. Males?"
"No, they were females."
"What were they like?"
"Canine. Reddish fur, white face and chest, pointy snout. Just like the description in the guide."
"No, I mean, you know, were they like, into it? How did they like it?"
"The younger one was right into it. She stuck to the role-play real well. The older one got caught up in the sex a bit, started getting aggressive. I think that they were satisfied, in the end." he chuckled.
"I thought that the females were called vixens?"
"Nagh. According to the guide, you can call them both foxes." The leader pointed to a thick book stuck in the sun visor on his side. 'Fordor's Guide to Tourist Species' on the spine.
"And weren't they supposed to be on Koki Road?"
"Probably just got lost, like all the tourists. We were ready for whichever road they turned down." He ignored the driver and finished filling out the forms. The van lurched to one side unexpectedly. "Hey, be careful!"
"Sorry, but there's a vehicle on the side of the road up ahead and I have to pull off to get around it."
The leader looked up. They were passing an older Land Rover. It was parked on the side of the road with the hood up, as if it had broken down, but there was no steam or smoke rising from the engine compartment. A pair or male canines dressed in outlandishly colourful khaki bush outfits were standing beside it. They kept glancing at their wristwatches and looking around impatiently. Their fur was bright red, except for their white faces and chests. They had pointy ears and snouts. As they pulled past the Land Rover, the leader saw the logo painted on its tailgate, 'Papua Erotic Adventures'.
Slowly he pulled the Fordor's tourist guide from the visor and flipped it open to 'F'. He studied the faded photo of the European red fox, glancing back at the pair by the Land Rover as he did. He checked the index and opened the book at the letter 'C'. He cringed when he saw the picture of the Northern European coyote. He put the book back where it was and put a paw on the driver's arm. He pointed to a secluded spot out of sight of the vehicle they had just passed on Koki Road. He turned to address his troupe.
"Gear up boys." He sighed. "We have to do an encore."