Translations were a funny thing. Sometimes they were done correctly, sometimes two people who were unable to understand one another and sometimes they were very wrong, and sometimes these misunderstandings came with grave consequences. Like now for example. She was young, beautiful, With generous curves in all the right places, complete with blue eyes and raven hued hair. Anna was the perfect poster girl for what the world universally knew as beauty in America. Only she wasn't in America, She was in a backwoods little village in Africa, one of the many pockets in the country untouched by time, and things were about to go far different than planned. With the local tribe holding a festival, a celebration of one of their most sacred animals the elephant, and she was the lucky reporter here to observe, camera and all. That was where the mistranslation came in. The tribe did not think she was here to observe, From the words of their people this light-skinned woman had very poorly spoken, They thought was she was a gift from America for their festival.
She was here to take part in the day, To be the main attraction of this celebration, They were given the gift of this woman from America, and they would in turn give her as a gift to the elephant, a Treat for their Holy creature, Her purpose little more than to Fill its belly on this all to special night. All would be pleased For now, for the moment, many watched in curiosity as she stood in front of a small camera mounted on a Tripod, speaking to it as if it were alive. Telling her story, what little she knew of this festival, But others paid it no attention. Before Anna could ever finish her report She would of been surrounded by several dark-skinned people of the tribe, two women and one man, each naked as the day they were born except for a few pieces of jewelry adorning their bodies. Anna found the local heat to be sweltering, Hard to breath as her form would be coated with a soft sticky layer of sweat. Anna tried to speak into the camera, As she spoke their hands were pawing at her clothes, unzipping Anna's pants, tugging at her shirt intent on stripping this rookie reporter on live, national television.
To this point Anna's career as a reporter could of been written off as a Failure, Always given those crappy little story's off in the middle of a blizzard or some tornado just so somebody in the newsroom could happily stare at her shapely form dripping wet or shivering cold and just aching to snuggle up with something. Those long golden raven locks of hair would cling to her shoulders and hang well down her back, Soft milky hued flesh glistening with a light layer of sweat several beads could be seen rolling down the curve of her neck vanishing into that low cut tanktop. The off white fabric clung to those full rounded breast that seemed to sway idly with a mind of their own as she spoke into that camera, Interrupted by those pawing hands, She giggled, Swatted a hang or two away before a furious shade of blush stained her gentle features, Giving in to them before her clothes were ripped right off her, Allowing them to finally strip her, First that nearly skin tight tanktop being pulled over her head allowing those full rounded breast to bounce free, Pert Fleshy pillars of her nipples standing erect as if towers on her mountainous bust. Next were those oh so short little shorts, The belt striped right from around her hips before the butten broke, The Zipper hastley undone as she squirmed, Soon would go that shimmering Yellow Thong she wore that would fit snugly against those swollen neither lips and perfectly between that plump valentine shaped rump, She snatched for that camera, Struggling to aim it upwards to where he head, shoulders were all that were in the frame, Watching herself in the flip around view finder with a whimper "G-guess.. Iam one of them now! heh... ah.. I think they want to start and have me join in?" Even as she spoke Multiple dark palms rubbed all over her skin, cupping those glorious mounds, squeezing them firm, Slipping away from her already quivering form to dip their hands into nearby urn's and with their touch they covered her in a honey-like substance.
It was very much a tar, or at least was in this heat, sticky and slimy, sticking to her skin and glistening prominently in the high African sun. The several naked villagers surrounded her, smothering her ample bosom with it, dipping their hands into a bucket with flies buzzing around to grab more, the clear yellow substance dripping from their hands and to the dry dirt below. That sparking yellow thong did come off, as did her shoes, the fabric being pulled down her body until the young raven haired Reporter stood there wearing nothing more than a blush. Quickly finding herself Nude in the middle of some small village surrounded by a plethora of men and Women. Would she be hailed by the audience for her bravery, others seeking to follow in her footsteps? Or would she be condemned as an exhibitionist?
All the men and women seemed concerned with now was rubbing their hands all over her body, Slowly coating her her stomach, shoulders, cheeks. With The slimy honey-tar substance even finding its way to her neither lips, a coarse, calloused hand cupping that wild golden bush, rubbing firmly to her sensitive, and once-private lips till she squirmed, Her lips pursed as a heated moan sliped past as she stared into that Camera, Speechless for the first time in her career, As that honey-slicked hand palmed firmly against the hairy raven bush of her snatch, a pair of calloused fingers dared to probe inside. The woman thought nothing of it touching Anna in this way for she was spreading those fingers once inside her, testing the young reporter's. Normally the village would take a very young girl and spend weeks with her being stretched. Others ran their hands all over Anna's face on her cheeks, and even worked into her hair before a pair of hands started roughly rubbing it in like a shampoo. By this time the flies and mosquitoes were buzzing around her wildly, sure enough to be nipping at her especially delicious skin. Much to her surprise one of the women kneeling in front of her and rubbing her palms down Anna's Legs and up her thighs, Eventually feeling hands rubbing against her rump, that shapely valentine shaped backside no space on her body to be left out, A sniffled cry escaping Anna's honey coated lips feeling a single digit being worked up her backside, First a single digit then a second, A third till Anna's knee's buckled, That camera long since being plucked from her hands, Stuck nearby on a box recording it all as she squirmed, Moaning out as the villagers worked tirelessly as preparing her for the nights festivities.