If these people were the descendants of the Tiahuanacos, I had stumbled into a rare discovery. Any anthropologist would have swapped his autographed copy of Coming of Age in Samoa17 to be in my shoes. As a sexologist, as the man from O.R.G.Y., I was filled with curiosity concerning their sexual mores, traditions and practices.
The difficulty was communication. Not speaking the lingo, I couldn’t exactly conduct a Kinsey-type survey. And unless they were given to exhibitionism, I wasn’t likely to be able to observe much. Still, first-hand experience was always a possibility. Looking around me at the proud, young bosoms swinging naked in the early night breeze, it was a much hoped-for possibility.
It began to seem even probable after dinner. The stew—-whatever it was-—was quite tasty and I was still savoring its flavor when two of the girls came over and indicated that they wanted me to accompany them to a hut on the far side of the clearing. I did, and was shown into the presence of a truly beautiful young woman. From her bearing, and the deference with which she was treated, I gathered that she was number one lady in the village.
“Zaketa. Zaketa. Zaketa.” She kept repeating it over and over again and pointing at herself until I understood that she was telling me her name
“Steve Victor.” I pointed at my chest. “Steve Victor.”
She nodded to show she savvied, and then we both fell silent. She seemed to be trying to think of a way of overcoming the language barrier. I was content to let her wrestle with the problem while I sat back and admired her.
She was stunning, all right. Her hair was blue-black and very long. It was held back by a wisp of ribbon, and back in the States it might have passed for a pony tail. The face it framed was a perfect oval with high cheekbones and a strong chin and a delightful nose. Her eyes were deep and dark and timeless.
She looked to be just under six feet tall, perhaps half an inch shorter than I. She was seated now, but when she stood up later, I found I’d judged her right. She was dressed no differently than the other women, and her bare bosom might have been sculpted for the statue of a goddess. It was quite large and firm and shaped like the nose-cones of a pair of missiles. It shaded from the bronze of the deep cleft into the gold of the orbs themselves and then into a dark pink marking the circles of the roseates and a deep red where the sharp nipples extended and pointed upward. Her figure generally was sleek, with well-curved hips and long, shapely, lightly muscled legs. As she shifted position to rest lightly on one hip, I saw that her derriére was high and plump and sexy. That was right in keeping with the rest of Zaketa.
Now she began trying to communicate again. It was a laborious procedure. I guess we kept at it for a couple of hours before she got certain things across to me.
Among these was the fact that I was evidently something of a prize. The women of the tribe, Zaketa included, looked down on the men with contempt. They were weak creatures good for little except cooking and cleaning and fathering children. Also, the mortality rate for boy-children was much higher than for girl babies. So, even though the women considered the men inferior, they also prized them for the simple reason that they were scarce. It was a paradox, but an understandable one.
I, however, was evidently something else again. I was strong and virile-looking and there was much about me that was desirable. That was why I had been brought to the head lady. I couldn’t quite fathom (whether she was trying to tell me they thought there was something supernatural about me because I had dropped from the sky into a tree or not. But certainly this seemed to impress her, and if I wasn’t quite a god, I was still rated as a super-being compared to the men of the tribe.
What came next was particularly difficult for her to get across to me. It seemed that Zaketa rated as top lady for rather peculiar reasons. It was a post she would hold for a period of time approximating five years—at least that was as close as I could determine it. At the end of that period, she would be replaced. The end of that period was now at hand, but I gathered that my coming had raised a few theological points relating to the primitive religion from which Zaketa derived her status.
It seems that she became head of the tribe at the age of eighteen. Many factors entered into her selection, but the most important of these was that she was still a virgin at that time. By that age, this was rarely true of many of the girls of the village. Despite the shortage of men, they contrived to lose their virginity. And it was more than just an appetite for sex that drove them to do so.
It was the fact that all but the most devout of them had little desire to attain Zaketa’s position. And for damn good reason. For Zaketa had been bound to keep her virgin status during her five years of rule for a very particular reason. The reason was that she was slated to be a virgin sacrifice to the sun goddess at the end of that time.
All this confirmed my opinion that this lost tribe was in some way descended from the Tiahuanacos. The Incas had copied many of their rites from them. Both groups had worshipped the Sun God and the periodic slaying of virgins as part of a ritual sacrifice was a big part of the Inca religion.
However, my coming had confused things. If I were a messenger from the Sun God, then perhaps Zaketa was not fated to be a virgin sacrifice. Perhaps my coming was a sign that he did not wish her to be sacrificed. But how could they be sure?
It seems that while I’d been stuffing my face with jungle stew, a council of older women had met with Zaketa to consider the question and they’d come up with an answer. Quite an answer! If I, with my murky demi-god status, made love to Zaketa, then she would no longer be a virgin and could obviously not be a sacrifice in keeping with the religious rules. If I refused to make love to her, that would be a sign that the Sun God wanted her for his own and she would be sacrificed at dawn on the following morning. The choice was to be left up to me.
Well, I was pretty tired, but looking at Zaketa I just knew I was all heart. I just had to put my manliness on the line for this poor, passive, frightened maiden. And besides, I was already breathing pretty fast just looking at her breasts heaving as she awaited my decision. So, cavalier that I am, I let her know demurely that I was at her disposal.
Talk about grabbing a jungle jaguar by the tail! Zaketa had been storing up passion since puberty, and she seemed determined to release it all on me in this one night. If she wasn’t going to die for the Sun God, she was going to live it up to the hilt with me.
I couldn’t be sure, but it was almost as if a big part of her lust was some sort of twisted disappointment at not being a virgin sacrifice. She’d been rejected by the Sun God, and now here I was catching her on the rebound. And that bounce was so zingy that I was kept too busy fielding it to make any notes for the files of O.R.G.Y.—-which was really a cotton-pickin’ shame. That night with Zaketa could have filled a whole filing cabinet all by itself.
You see, everything was new to her. Not only was she a virgin, but she’d never even been touched intimately before, never even been kissed. So she savored each new caress as an experience for its own sake, as well as for the feelings of arousal it engendered.
When I kissed her the first time her lips were warm and moist and clinging. As my tongue breached her lips she moaned low in her throat, and her sharp little teeth tried to hold it so that the sensation would be prolonged. She caught on fast, and soon her own tongue was darting like a flame inside my mouth.
I cupped one of her large breasts in my hand and it quivered and swelled as she caught her breath. The tip burned against my palm as she closed her hand over mine, urging me to squeeze it harder and harder. I knew it must hurt, but the pain was a thrilling sensation she wanted to feel to the fullest. The area around the nipple was soft as butter, but the nipple itself grew hotter and harder as I squeezed it.