The woman who was standing outside—maybe in her early twenties, 24 at most. She had the same dark eyes as Kerry, the same full lips, the same strong features—but where Kerry was mature, this woman was fresh, her skin smooth and unmarked, her body slim but curved in all the right places. And fuck—her tits were just as big as her mother's, full and heavy, barely contained by the loose hide wrap she wore.
Kina's eyes flickered to me, her gaze curious—assessing. "Mom," she said, her voice light but impatient, "you're taking so much time..." Then her attention shifted fully to me, her dark eyes narrowing just slightly. "And who is this little brother?"
The way she said it—little brother—made something twist in my chest. Not because it was true, but because of the way her lips curled around the words, the way her eyes traced over me, lingering just a second too long on the bulge in my makeshift leaf-skirt.
"Kina, let me introduce this little brother to you..." Kerry gestured toward me, her hands still instinctively covering her bare tits, though her nipples remained hard and aching beneath her touch. "His name is Dexter. Your father found him in the forest..."
Kerry finished telling Kina my story—how I'd lost my family, how I'd come to the tribe, how her grandfather had taken me in. The way she spoke, her voice soft and careful, made it sound like I was some fragile thing, something to be protected.
Kina listened, her dark eyes never leaving me, her expression slowly shifting from curiosity to something warmer. Sympathy.
"Dexter," she said, stepping closer, her voice warm, almost gentle. "From now on, we're all your family." Her gaze flicked over me again, but this time, it wasn't the same appraising look from before. This was softer. Sisterly. "And you'll have a sister from now on." A small smile tugged at her lips. "If you need anything, tell your sister, okay?"
I nodded, my throat suddenly tight. "Yeah..." My voice came out rough, hoarse. "Thank you, sister."
"Okay... let's go." Kerry reached out, her fingers brushing against my arm—hesitant, but affectionate. "And Dexter, come—I'll introduce you to the others." Her lips curved into a small smile. "Kids your age, so you won't feel alone here."
I didn't hesitate.
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a hug—tight, possessive. My lips brushed against her shoulder as I murmured, my voice muffled against her skin, "With my aunt here..." My hands slid down her back, my fingers pressing into the curve of her waist. "How can I feel alone? I'm just happy to be with my aunt."
Kerry stiffened for a second—her body tense, her breath hitching—before she melted into it, her fingers patting my back almost absentmindedly.
"You kid..." she chuckled, but her voice was soft, affectionate—unaware of the filthy thoughts racing through my mind. The way her body fit against mine, the way her breasts pressed into my chest, the way her heat radiated through the thin hide covering her—it made my cock twitch with dark anticipation.
Then she pulled back slightly, her dark eyes flickering toward Kina. "Kina, you take him there..." She hesitated, her fingers twitching at her sides. "I need to go and... take a piss..."
The words hit me like a spark.
Hearing Kerry say she was going to piss—something so mundane, so normal—sent a jolt of dark, filthy curiosity through me. I'd seen women squirt on my cock, seen them drip with arousal, seen them come until they were a mess—but I'd never seen one piss.
Never witnessed the raw, unfiltered act of a woman letting go like that—the vulnerability of her thighs parted, the sound of it, the scent of it, the way her body would tremble as she released.
My mind raced.
This wasn't just about pissing.
This was an opportunity.
An opportunity to see Kerry—completely exposed. To see her squat, her thighs spread, her pussy dripping—not with arousal this time, but with something raw, something real. The thought made my cock throb, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Fuck.
"Aunt..." I said, my voice casual, innocent—just eager enough to sound believable. "I also want to take a piss..." I shrugged, my eyes wide with faux confusion. "I don't know where to go... Can you take me with you?"
Kerry hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Okay. Come with me." She turned to Kina, her voice firm. "Kina, you go back. Dexter and I will meet you at the food."
Kina nodded, her dark eyes flickering between us before she turned and walked away. And fuck—that ass. The way it swung with each step, the way the hide clung to the curve of her hips, the way her thighs pressed together just enough to hint at the heat between them. I watched—transfixed—as she moved, the sunlight catching the sweat on her skin, the way her muscles flexed with every step.
Then Kerry's voice pulled me back.
"Dexter, let's go." She gestured for me to follow, her own voice tight—nervous, maybe, though she tried to hide it. "I'll show you the place..."
I followed, my gaze dropping to her ass as she walked ahead of me. The hide wrapped around her waist was damp in places, clinging to the swell of her hips, the curve of her thighs. And then I saw it—
A faint, glistening trail.
Dripping down the back of her thighs.
My grin turned dark, possessive.
That wasn't piss.
That was her—her pussy, still aching, still leaking from how badly I'd teased her. The juices trickled down her skin, shiny and thick, clinging to the dark hair between her legs before sliding down her thighs.
She shifted slightly, her legs pressing together as if she could hide it, but it only smeared it further, the wetness glistening in the sunlight.
She probably thought it was itching—some sickness, some strange reaction.
But I knew the truth.
She was wet. Desperate. And she had no idea how bad she wanted it.
We stepped out of the cluster of huts into a plain area covered in tall, swaying grass. The tribe's living space was behind us now, the open field stretching ahead—empty, private. No one else was around. They must've all gone to eat.
Kerry walked ahead, her steps confident, her bare feet pressing into the grass. I followed close behind, my gaze locked onto the sway of her hips—the way her ass shifted with each step, the way the hide clung to the curve of her thighs.
The dampness between her legs was obvious now, the glistening trail dripping down her skin, the scent of her—musky, sweet, intoxicating—filling the air between us.
"Dexter, you can piss here." She pointed to a patch of grass, her voice practical—maternal. "And remember—when you poop, dig a hole..." She mimed the motion with her hands, her fingers pressing into the earth. "And after you're done, fill the hole again with the dirt."
I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere.
Because Kerry was still standing there.
And if I played this right?
I was about to see everything.
The way her thighs would part. The way her pussy would glisten. The way she would let go—completely, unfiltered—right in front of me.
The thought made my cock throb, my pulse pounding in my ears.
"Aunt..." I asked, my voice curious—innocent. "How did you come up with this method? Covering your poop like that?"
Kerry sighed, her fingers combing through the tall grass as she remembered, her voice taking on a nostalgic, almost amused tone. The sunlight caught the sheen of sweat on her skin, the way her chest rose and fell with the memory, her nipples—still hard, still aching—pressing against the leaves covering them.
"It was decided by all the people..." she murmured, her dark eyes distant for a moment. "I remember when I was a kid..." Her lips twitched, a small, wry smile playing at the corners.
"I'd come here to take a piss..." She shuddered, her face scrunched in disgust. "Sometimes, my foot would squish—" She mimed the motion, her toes curling in the grass. "—right into someone else's poop."
Her expression twisted, her nose wrinkling like she could still smell it. "It was disgusting." She shuddered again, her fingers clenching into fists before relaxing.
"Made us all dirty. And it happened all the time—everyone stepping in it, tracking it back to the huts..." She exhaled sharply, her voice dry. "So after a lot of discussion—and a lot of complaining—" she chuckled, her eyes flickering to me—"we came up with this method."
She gestured to the ground, her voice practical now. "Dig a hole, do your business, cover it back up." Her fingers mimed the motions—digging, squatting, burying—her movements efficient, learned. "Keeps everything clean. Keeps the smell away." She nodded to herself, like she was proud of the solution.
I nodded, but my mind was already racing.
Because Kerry was still standing there.
And I was about to watch her unravel.
Kerry's voice was firm, but distracted, her fingers twitching at the edges of her leaf skirt as she spoke. "So Dexter, you must also follow these rules..." She didn't wait for an answer.
Instead, she shifted her weight, her bare feet pressing into the soft earth as she lowered herself down, the dried leaves of her skirt rustling around her thighs.
And then—
She lifted it.
My breath caught in my throat as her fingers hooked into the rough edges of her skirt, pulling it up—slowly, deliberately—revealing the dark, curly bush between her thighs.
It was thick, wild, untamed—a tangle of black curls that glistened with the sheen of her arousal, the musky scent of her filling the air between us.
Her bush—thick, black, wild—curled in dense, glossy rings around her pussy, the dark hair clinging to the damp pink flesh beneath. The scent of her hit me first—musky, earthy, intoxicating—the heat of her aching cunt filling the air between us.
Her lips were already parted, swollen from arousal, glistening with the juices that had been dripping down her thighs the whole walk here. And fuck—her clit, peeking out from its hood, engorged and throbbing, begging for touch.
Then—
Her fingers moved.
Two of them, spreading herself wide, stretching the flesh around her pussy like she was offering it to me. The pink of her cunt was obscene, wet, the inner lips puffy and slick with need. And then—
—the first hiss.
A thin, steady stream of piss escaped her, splattering into the grass beneath her with a soft, wet sound. The hissing noise it made—hot, uncontrolled, filthy—sent a jolt straight to my cock, making it twitch violently in my grip.
Kerry's thighs trembled, her muscles clenching as the stream grew stronger, thicker, splashing against the earth in obscene little bursts.
"Nnngh—!" A soft, involuntary moan slipped from her lips as she pushed, her stomach tightening, her breath hitching in her throat.
The sound of it—the hiss, the drip, the splash—was maddening, primitive, fucking perfect. Her pussy twitched with every spurt, her clit pulsing as the last of her arousal mixed with the piss, dripping down in thick, shiny streaks.
And then—
The way she milked herself dry.
Her fingers pressed against her pussy lips, squeezing them together like a man jerking the last drops from his cock.
A final, weak spurt escaped, dribbling down her thighs, but she wasn't done—her muscles flexed, her hips rolling slightly as she pushed, forcing out every last drop.
The last of her stream hissed into the grass, the sound fading into a soft drip—drip—drip—as the final droplets clung to her swollen lips. Kerry's fingers twitched, pressing against herself, milking out every last bit—just like a man would squeeze the base of his cock, forcing out those stubborn final drops that always seemed to linger.
But no matter how hard she tried—no matter how much she shifted her hips, no matter how tightly she squeezed—there was always one left.
Always.
A single, glistening drop, clinging to the edges of her pussy lips, hidden in the dark, curly folds of her bush—waiting.
Waiting to be found.
Waiting to be licked away.
The sight of her—spread, dripping, completely exposed—made my cock throb painfully. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, dripping down my shaft as I stared, transfixed.
The grass beneath her was soaked, glistening with the proof of her release, the scent of her piss mixing with the musky aroma of her arousal—fucking intoxicating.
When she was done, she glanced up at me—
—and froze.