The sun had barely begun to crest over the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and burnt oranges, when Nula stirred the household. In the Kabua tribe, the rhythm of life was dictated by the movement of water and the demands of the soil. As the light strengthened, Nula gathered her daughters and a few neighboring women, including the ever-observant Susan, to begin their daily pilgrimage. They headed toward the upper hills, a journey that required a steady breath and a familiar pace.
The trail was a well-worn scar on the mountainside, marked by the constant treading of bare feet over generations. Lara, Sara, and their friend Katty walked amidst a gaggle of young girls, their voices rising in a melodic chorus of giggles and lighthearted gossip. They moved with the grace of those born to the forest, ignoring the steep incline as they followed the path toward the tribe's most sacred treasure.
Deep within the mountain's embrace, where the ancient cracks in the stone bled crystal-clear liquid, lay the waterfall. It was the soul of the Kabua people. The water cascaded down in a relentless, shimmering curtain, feeding a heavenly lake below. Without this constant flow, the tribe would have withered long ago. Securing this territory had cost the Kabua a bloody history of skirmishes and wars with rival clans, which was why the village chief ensured the mountain's base was perpetually guarded by the tribe's most formidable warriors. The security of the women was paramount, for they were the life-bringers and the keepers of the hearth.
The area around the falls was a sea of feminine energy. This was the designated bathing sanctuary, a place where the leaves and dirt of daily labor were washed away. Nula, Sara, and Lara joined the others, shedding their leafy garments without a second thought. Here, amidst the spray and the cool mist, the women swam and played, their laughter echoing off the damp rock walls. It was a social ritual as much as a hygienic one. The lake possessed a strange, mystical property: the water felt naturally warmed during the biting winters and refreshingly cool during the sweltering summers. For Nula and her daughters, this was the highlight of their day—a moment of communal refreshment before the grueling work of the homestead resumed.
By midday, the focus shifted back to the belly of the family. Lara took charge of the lunch, packing baskets with the hearty meals Nula had prepared. She trekked to the expansive fields where the men were already glistening with sweat. Delivering the food to Rana, Manu, Yasu, and Fuyu was a task shared by many of the village girls, turning the lunch hour into a brief, bustling social event in the shadows of the crops. Once the baskets were empty, Lara returned home, stopping to gather wild fruits along the way, while the men turned their attention to the heavy labor. They spent the remaining hours of daylight hauling the harvest—stalk by stalk, basket by basket—into the elevated storage huts that stood like guardians near their homes.
When the sun finally dipped below the world and the stars began to pierce the velvet dark, the family returned to the hut, bone-weary and hollowed out by exhaustion. They ate their final meal in a comfortable, tired silence before preparing for rest.
The hut was a sturdy construction of mud and timber, divided into four distinct sections. While there were four rooms, the scarcity of materials meant that only three featured the luxury of a mattress. As the autumn air began to take on a predatory chill, sleeping on the bare ground was no longer an option for the frail. Using a meticulous blend of dried leaves, harvested cotton, and woven grasses, the family had fashioned soft, insulating sheets.
Nula and Rana claimed the first room, their snores soon mingling with the wind outside. Manu and Yasu shared the second, while Lara and Sara occupied the third. Fuyu was left in the fourth room. He was a proud youth, and though he possessed the skill to craft his own bedding, he had initially felt it was an unnecessary indulgence. However, as the night deepened, the cold became a sharp, biting presence that even his pride couldn't ignore. He had gathered materials earlier that day to build a shield against the frost, but the construction was incomplete, and the cold was relentless.
Should I ask them? Fuyu wondered, shivering in the dark. It's embarrassing... a man should be able to endure. But the memory of the warmth in the other room, and the fact that Sara and Lara were currently using the mattress he had originally helped build, finally pushed him to act. He stood up, his skin pricking with goosebumps, and moved toward his sisters' room.
"Agg... Lara..."
Fuyu's voice was a soft, hesitant rasp as he slipped through the door. The room was bathed in the dim, milky glow of the moon filtering through the thatch. Sara and Lara were already nestled under a heavy blanket made of the same fibrous materials as the mattress.
At the sound of his voice, the two women stirred. Sara sat up, the motion causing the heavy blanket to slide down her frame. In the shadows, her breasts were visible—rounded, jiggly silhouettes with dark, prominent aerosols and nipples that peaked sharply in the cold air. While not as massive as their mother Nula's, Sara's bosom was lush and full, a testament to her maturing womanhood and her current pregnancy. In the Kabua tribe, sleeping naked was a matter of practical comfort, and while Fuyu had seen his sisters in various states of undress his whole life, tonight was different.
His body, influenced by the spirit's lingering heat, responded with a violence that shocked him. His penis, already stirred by the cold and the proximity of the women, stiffened into a rigid iron bar.
Lara sat up beside her sister, her eyes narrowing as she tried to pierce the gloom. "What happened, Fuyu?" she asked, her voice a low murmur. She noticed immediately that he wasn't the calm, stoic brother he had been weeks ago. He was fidgeting, appearing shy and bashful—a behavior she had only seen in Manu when he was trying to impress the village girls.
"Ah... that. I'm feeling the cold too much in that room," Fuyu admitted, his face heating up despite the temperature. "I was thinking... if it's alright... I could sleep here with you guys?"
The request was a blow to his masculine ego. In the warrior-culture of the hills, seeking the warmth of a female's bed because of a bit of frost was seen as a sign of unmanly weakness. If Yasu or his friends found out, they would never let him live it down.
Sara smiled, a gentle, maternal warmth in her eyes. "Oh, you silly boy. Come here. We told you days ago to sleep with us, but you were too stubborn to listen. We knew it was freezing in there." She patted the space on the mattress. "But first, remove those leaves and come under the blanket properly."
Fuyu didn't hesitate. He stripped away his leafy loincloth, standing completely nude in the moonlight. Even in the shadows, the silhouette of his manhood was impossible to miss. It pointed upward, a long, thick sword that swung with every step he took toward them. The sight of it—the sheer, pulsating scale of it—locked the girls' attention.
"Where should I sleep?" Fuyu asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of cold and a new, dark excitement. His mind was already racing, wondering what might happen once the two of them drifted into a deep sleep.
"Ah—" Sara started to point to the middle, but Lara cut her off with a hurried, sharp tone.
"Beside me!"
Sara and Fuyu both blinked in surprise. Lara felt her heart skip a beat and scrambled for an explanation. "Well... Sara is pregnant. I don't want you kicking her or hurting the baby in your sleep. I'm a sturdier sleeper."
The reasoning was sound. In their tribe, a pregnant woman was a vessel of the future, and sex was strictly prohibited during the term to ensure the "seed" wasn't disturbed. This was why Sara and Yasu currently slept in separate quarters.
"Alright," Fuyu said, sliding onto the mattress next to Lara.
As they settled under the blanket, the shared body heat began to fight back the chill, but the tension in the room only increased. Sara, looking over Fuyu to check on Lara, found her gaze once again drawn to the tent in the blankets.
"Fuyu..."
"Yes?"
"Are you... comfortable sleeping like that?" Sara asked, her voice tinged with a strange concern.
Lara was currently paralyzed, her eyes fixed on the twitching erection just inches from her thigh. She could feel the heat radiating from it through the sheets. It was a strange piece of meat—stiffer and longer than any she had ever witnessed. Though she had seen the men of the village, Fuyu's "sword" possessed a magnetic quality that she couldn't explain. She labeled it as "curiosity" in her mind, a natural draw toward the forbidden or the unusual.
"I guess I am," Fuyu whispered, his voice thick. "But I don't really know what to do with it."
To demonstrate his plight, he reached down and performed a few rhythmic strokes, the friction of his hand against the skin making a soft, sliding sound in the quiet room. He pinched the tip, pulling back the foreskin to reveal the red-hot glans, which was already weeping a bead of glistening pre-cum.
Lara and Sara both let out a sharp, simultaneous gulp, their throats suddenly dry. The visual was an assault on their senses. They began a hushed, frantic discussion about how to handle the situation. If he stayed this way, he wouldn't sleep, and if he didn't sleep, he would be useless in the fields—leading to Rana's wrath.
"Wait," Sara said, taking charge. "Fuyu, try to focus on the work. Remember the harvest? Think about the heavy baskets and the dirt."
She began to ask him mundane questions about the storage hut and the crops. It was a classic tactic to divert the blood flow. For a moment, it seemed to work; the rigid tower began to soften, losing its aggressive height.
"See?" Sara giggled, her pride returning. "I told you I knew how to handle it. I've been around men long enough to know the tricks."
Lara watched the flaccid organ with a mix of relief and a strange, hidden disappointment. Just like that? she thought. I thought he would be different, more persistent.
But as if responding to her secret thought, the "warrior" suddenly surged back to life. In a matter of seconds, it was once again a throbbing, purple-veined pillar of heat, standing even taller than before.
"Big sister... I don't think your trick worked," Lara giggled, though her voice was shaky as she made fun of Sara's failed confidence.
"What? How?" Sara looked down, her jaw dropping. She looked at Fuyu's blushing face. "Are you doing this on purpose, Fuyu? Because I saw it go down!"
"No, Sister! I swear!" Fuyu pleaded, his voice high and desperate. "It's happening on its own! I'm asking for help because I can't control it!"
Sara sighed, her suspicious look softening into something more complex. "I see. Well, if you aren't doing it on purpose, I won't give you the beating I was thinking of."
"I really am not," Fuyu whispered.
"Hmm... don't be so afraid," Sara said, her voice turning dangerously sweet. Her hand reached out under the blanket, her fingers trailing along his inner thigh before clenching the muscle tightly. Fuyu jumped, his whole body tensing at her touch.
Lara watched, her breath hitching in her chest as she witnessed the interaction.
"Let me see what I can do," Sara murmured. She began to stroke the inner skin of his thigh, her touch light and investigative. She looked up at him, her green eyes shimmering in the dark. "Is it alright if I touch you there? Just to observe... so I can find a way to help you?"
"Yeah... it's fine," Fuyu gasped.
Sara nodded, her focus returning to the large, throbbing organ. She reached out, her soft, firm palm making first contact with the scorching skin of his shaft. She tried to wrap her fingers around it, but she gasped in surprise; it was far too thick for her hand to fully encircle. She ignored the prohibited nature of the act, the fact that she was a married woman, and the ancient taboos of her people. At that moment, she was only aware of the sheer, radiating power and the velvet heat of the manhood she was never supposed to touch.