The shadow emerged from the dark underbrush. Cheryl yelped. It was a man, naked with a bizarre headdress - a wooden mask that covered most of his face and a mass of straw that hung down past his shoulders. He wasn't totally naked. His penis was wrapped in some kind of vegetation. It stood straight out and bobbed obscenely as he approached.
Cheryl took a step back, then another. A third brought her up short as she bumped against a second man. He grabbed her.
They wrestled her to the ground, fumbled her clothes off, tied her wrist and ankle. One of the men stepped into the bushes and came back carrying a stout pole. He slipped it between Cheryl's wrists and ankles. The men hefted the pole onto their shoulders and walked down the path. Cheryl hung, naked and helpless, swinging with each step. The struggle had left her sweaty and dirty and she could feel rivulets of sweat trickling across her body. The men left the trail, headed into the woods.
It was past sunset, but not quite dark. The clearing was in deep shadow. The men set Cheryl down, removed the pole, stood her up, backed her up against a post, and tied her wrists well above her head. There was a huge cone of wood stacked in the middle of the clearing. After securing Cheryl, one of the men lit the tinder. The blaze sprang to life. He squatted by a log, grabbed a couple of sticks, began beating it in a steady rhythm. The other man stepped over to a rough table of sorts, hefted a jug and poured something into a gourd. He came back to Cheryl and pressed the lip of the gourd to her mouth. Cheryl drank. The liquid burned going down, but he held the gourd there, tipping it until it was empty. Cheryl swallowed. Almost immediately head began to swim.
Then she heard the noise. Voices. Laughing. Chattering.
They came into the clearing as a group, men and women, naked, wearing the same headdresses, men with the same penis sheaths. They danced in time with the beat, eventually circling the fire. The drink man dispensed gourds. The couples drank.
The women "woohoo'd!" and shook their tits, the men rocked their hips causing their encased cocks to bob up and down. Everybody was laughing.
As each couple passed, the woman shook her tits at Cheryl, the man did the hip thrust thing, before dancing away.
The dancing went on for a long time, gourds were refilled, the noise level rose, impromptu song broke out in time with the drumming.
Then with one loud beat the drumming stopped. The drummer came over to Cheryl, produced a knife and slit the cord binding her ankles. He went back to his place by the log.
The couple nearest Cheryl approached. The woman did more of the tit shake thing, dancing around the man. She undid the lacing holding the penis sheath in place, removed it. She stroked his cock, rubbing herself against him, before dropping to her knees. The crowd hooted as she sucked him to hardness. Hooted again when he stepped up to Cheryl and thrust into her.
Cheryl didn't know what was in the drink, but she felt both buzzed and mellow, as if she had a double espresso and a double shot of vodka. The fucking almost felt, well, good.
After he came, the woman held up the gourd for Cheryl to drink. She drank.
The drum beats started again, the couples danced around the fire. Around and around they went until there was another loud beat, then silence, and the second couple stepped over to her. It was the same as the first with the tit shaking, the stroking, the sucking, the thrusting. She was given another sip from a gourd.
They say the third time is a charm. When the music stopped and the preliminaries were over and the man was inside of her, Cheryl came. This brought a roar from the others. When he returned to the crowd there was much back slapping and hooting.
It went on like this deep into the night. All the men had their shot at her. Ten? A dozen? She didn't know. Eventually the party wound down, couples drifted away. Finally Cheryl was alone with the two men. One threw dirt on the fire, the other slit the cord on her wrists. She fell into his arms. He held her until she was able to take a few staggering steps.
They walked her out of the clearing, through the woods, back to the path. At the end of the path, they melted back into the brushes.
She passed three huts, then paused. In a pool of light by the tennis court Cheryl glanced at the sign.
Tonight 8 p.m.
$25 per couple
All Proceeds Go To Charity
Virgin Drinks For Free!