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“Jungle Fever”

I wrote this as a commission for someone in World of Warcraft. I hope you enjoy it. <3 -------------------------------- Hot. Steamy. Sticky. All were words to describe the lithe woman who skulked in the shadows of Stranglethorn. She was following a raptor, and had been tracking it for days. Her sun-kissed skin shimmered with sweat, only to have it licked away by the large leaves and tall grasses. She looked like she belonged here. Ample breasts, and rounded rear both bound by light cloth and leather, enough clothing to cover her so-called shame, but not enough to leave anything up to the imagination. A hand reached up and rubbed at her eye. she had sat motionless for some time, and the palpably thick heat filled air was starting to make her sl**py. Hours spent waiting to hear of any sound from the creature, only to be met with the ever present humming of insects, and the distant cries of the birds. The thick vines, and leaves directed sounds easily, but the cries were still muffled. It would be difficult to hear even a person crying out in it, she had always thought. She had no idea what time of day it was because the thick canopy was shielding most of the sunlight, but she knew that it was not yet dark. Her raptor was no where to be found, so it was likely that the cunning creature had eluded her entirely. So, she paused, and waited, for what seemed, easily, a quarter of an hour before giving up, slinging her bow over her back and returning to her small encampment. She signed audibly, and stretched, raising her arms up above her head, fingers interlaced and looked up at the sunlight filtering through the overhanging leaves and vines. She smiled, happy to be free from all of the problems she had abandoned in Stormwind. Free of the War of Orcish Aggression, as she called it. Free from having to walk cobblestone streets. She was herself in the wilds, where she belonged. That was when they pounced. Three fingered hands covered in light blue fur reached out from the underbrush. Thick digits groped at her thighs, her wrists and her mouth, yanking her down to the jungle floor. She felt her arm wrenched as she was dragged for several feet. She kicked, she thrashed, but to no avail. The trolls had taken her, and she knew they would not let her go soon. Thrust against the base of a tree, she grunted loudly. She gagged and coughed, spitting dust out in thick, saliva-drenched gobs. She leaned forward, her head almost between her legs, sobbing without actually crying, fearing the worst was to happen. One of the larger ones knelt before her. His loincloth did little to hide his half-hard manhood which hung down like a thick vine. He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head, and then her body upward. She stared a moment , her eyes on the uncut shaft and it's spiraled tattoos, unsure of what would soon take place. "You be trackin dat rapta, ya?" She blinked. His Common was accented, but understandable. She raised her head and looked up at him, his face covered in crackled paint, his long ringed tusks gnarled and chipped. He was old, but still oddly she wondered, eyes darting between his muscled legs. ....No. No! He was a troll, and those thoughts would not be had. She nodded at him, her eyebrow raised. "Yes... I was." The troll hurrumphed to himself, and gestured back over his shoulder. "It be ded, girl. Ya dun missed ya chance." She looked behind, and past him, and saw the raptor head impaled on a spear. She took a deep, breathy sigh, eyes lingering, mind wandering; and then looked back at the looming visage before her. "Then... you will let me go now?" She smiled at him, hoping to be let off easily. But, no. The old troll shook his head as two younger males waked over, unclothed, their bodies muscled and taut, dicks standing fully erect. "Na, girl. Dese two. Dey da ones dat done da killin'. Dey men now. Kill a b**st.. " Hie ancient eyes locked on her, and she fidgeted. This was not her first experience with trolls and sex. Just, the last time is was welcomed. I was wanted.It wasn't some archaic ritual of bl**dlust and savagery. Did troll women go through this? Did they find strange young men pulling them aside and having their way with them? Did they experience what she was soon to know? Thick, throbbing shafts of manhood shoved down her throat, into her wet, welcoming cunt. Her tight, un-bred asshole spreading as those tumescent rods worked in and out of her. Hng.. No.. Surely they hadn't. She was day dreaming. She knew it. This was a fantasy. She could feel her hand as she toyed with her pussy, slipping a finger in, thumb caressing her clit. She was in her tent, fondling herself, fantasizing about being ****d. It had been the heat. She knew it. Except, the next thing she knew one of the bucks had stepped forward. His dick was in her mouth. She felt his hands on her head, lifting her up, and she accepted him into her throat. The other pulled her away, and like a true whore she gasped, turning to face her lover's erect shaft. Both were long, and thick. Both uncut, with one having a curled bone ring through the glans, forcing his foreskin back. They were perfect, rigid cocks like she could only dream of. Was she sure this was not a fantasy? The other one took her mouth, slamming himself inside of her hard enough to make her gag. They both tasted sweet. Their pre-cum hung on her tongue and slowly drained down the back of her throat. She was d***k on them already, and her glistening, watery eyes betrayed her. A hand raised up. She cupped her breast, fondling herself through the cloth before pulling her shirt away, bared breasts hanging free, nipples hard and taut. Their hands were on her. She was pulled up and to them. She felt them enter her and she lost herself in the ecstasy. Minutes. Hours. Days. She was unsure. The troll studs used her over and over, their thick loads being shot inside of her, and onto her face. Her tits. Her ass. She rode one while blowing the other. Took them both in her lower holes as she moaned and growled. Even the older one hadn't resisted. His cum was thick, and he rewarded her quickly, slapping her across the face and sending his spunk flying after he was done spending himself on her. They finally dropped her, panting onto the ground. She was sore. Her face was red, and her hair was messy. Twigs and leaves clinging to the sweat and dirt-caked strands. Or was it semen? She neither cared, or wanted to know. The trolls collected their things and slunk away. She sat there, in a funk, breathing and watching them leave. She sobbed, once, and looked up to the sky again. She was free in the jungle of Stranglethorn.

Updated: October 21, 2016 — 1:30 pm

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