Polynesian Pleasure

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Polynesian Pleasure Page 3

by Victoria Rush


  I nodded, recalling how the indigenous people of Easter Island were nearly wiped out by disease and infighting after Dutch settlers arrived.

  "I can appreciate why he'd want your people to be left alone. But you'll have to stop referring to me as European. I'm actually from the United States. I'm technically an American."

  Teuila chuckled as she shook her head.

  "They're just another colonial oppressor as far as he's concerned. He doesn't trust anybody who travels to these islands on fancy boats and planes. He thinks you'll corrupt our simple and natural way of life."

  "He's probably right," I said. "Lord knows, our so-called advanced civilization has plenty of shortcomings."

  I looked at Teuila's simple one-piece toga and motioned to my soiled clothing.

  "Shall I take these off and leave them on the beach? Will you be offended if I swim in the nude?"

  "Not at all," Teuila smiled. "It will give me a chance to clean your garments while you cool off. We all swim naked when we're bathing in the lagoon."

  I glanced around me to see if anyone else was stealing glances from the surrounding brush and slowly began to disrobe. I knew that if anyone wanted to gawk at the white woman while she bathed that they could easily hide undetected behind the thick blanket of foliage, but I didn't really care. There was something about this remote island that seemed so natural and carefree to me. I was far more mindful of the impression I'd leave with the pretty native girl.

  I turned my back toward Teuila, then pulled down my cargo shorts and panties, and slipped off my sweaty t-shirt and bra. It felt good to be liberated from the vestiges of Western civilization, and for the first time in my week-long tour of the South Pacific, I slipped into the warm waters of the tropical lagoon completely naked. It felt exquisite to be immersed in the buoyant salt water, and for the longest time I just floated on the surface, watching the wispy white clouds pass slowly over the sky. When I caught sight of the thin contrails of a jet aircraft high up in the atmosphere, I couldn’t help smiling.

  Those suckers have no idea what they're missing down here, I thought. They probably can only imagine what it must be like to be untethered from society, living on these remote islands.

  I hadn't even once thought of picking up my smartphone since I'd left the boat. Not that I could do much with it, hundreds of miles away from the nearest wi-fi signal. I glanced over at Teuila, who was rubbing my cargo shorts with a taro root amid a froth of white foam in the shallows near the beach. She looked up at me and smiled in my direction.

  "Are you starting to feel better?" she called. "Don't stray too far from the beach. There are treacherous currents near the reef. The last thing we need is for you to drown after nursing you back to health."

  "Not to worry," I shouted. "I'm just enjoying this little moment of bliss."

  After five minutes or so, I began to walk out of the water in Teuila's direction. As I emerged from the surf, she eyed my body from top to bottom. She seemed particularly interested in my bare mound as her eyes danced over my pale white hips. As I approached her, she held open a painted native dress, and I stepped into it while she pulled it up over my breasts and fastened it with loose strings behind my shoulders.

  "Do you mind my asking," she said, as I turned around to face her. "Why your agava is smooth like a young girl's? It seems strange to see a full-grown woman without any hair down there. Is this a particular custom of Euro—I mean American—women?"

  "As a matter of fact," I chuckled. "It is. "It's become the norm for Western women to shave themselves down there. I'm not exactly sure how the practice started. Maybe it's because it makes us seem younger and more alluring to our sexual partners. Or maybe it's just easier to navigate around down there. I find it heightens the sensation when I'm touched in that delicate area. But I can see how strange that must seem to someone who's used to living a natural lifestyle."

  "Actually," Teuila said, thinning her eyelids as she peered at my deep cleavage atop the tight-fitting tunic. "I find it quite sexy. You look like a doll. A very curvy and sexy doll."

  "I've never been called that before, but I'll take it as a compliment." I glanced in the direction of the village. "When does the festival start? What can I do to help you prepare?"

  "First of all, we need to get you properly dressed for the festivities. The ceremony will start at dusk. Let's go back to my hut and see if we can make you look like a proper Anutian girl."

  I paused for a moment, raising my eyebrows in curiosity.

  "Is that the name of your island—Anuta?"

  "Yes. It means slippery shore. Because our island is so small and far away from anybody, everything seems to just slide by us."

  That's not the only thing that's slippery right now, I thought, feeling the cool sea breeze wafting over my bare vulva as I watched Teuila's sexy lips moving.

  When we got back to her hut, Teuila and her grandmother fitted me with a grass skirt and decorated my hair with a garland of native flowers. The old lady pinched her eyebrows when she saw my bare pubis and she ran the back of her hand over my mound, making a comment to Teuila about my lack of lauulu. I wished it had been the young girl who had caressed me instead, but I hoped we'd soon have an opportunity to explore each other when we alone later.

  I found it interesting that they left the upper half of my body exposed, draping it simply with the long floral lei that her grandmother had brought into the hut earlier. The flower petals were bright and soft, and they tickled my nipples as they fell over the fullness of my breasts. I smiled at the old woman and nodded in appreciation as she pulled it over my neck.

  "What's your grandmother's name?" I asked Teuila.

  "Her given name is Tausa'afia, meaning kind one, but we all call her Nona."

  "You Anutians seem to prefer long and difficult-to-pronounce names. Does your grandmother have a pet name for you?"

  "She calls me Te', like the French word for tea."

  "That's perfect," I said, "because you're both so kind and calming."

  I looked at the old woman and smiled, caressing the floral lei gently between my fingers.

  "Thank you, Nona," I said, "for this lovely gift. You've both made me feel so welcome in your home. I'm looking forward to tonight's celebration."

  6

  Shortly after dusk, Teuila and her grandmother escorted me out to the main promenade of their village. A huge bonfire was burning at one end while her father sat on an elevated platform at the opposite end. Nona sat on the right side of the chief's platform along with his younger sons, while Te' and I sat on his left side with her sisters. This was the first time I'd seen her entire family assembled in one place, and I counted a grand total of eight siblings, all considerably younger than Teuila. Arrayed in front of us on a long serving plank were huge bowls and plates made of seashells festooned with a variety of fragrant foods. The rest of the villagers sat in family units on opposite rows lining the central esplanade, eyeing me curiously.

  Further to the side of the chief's platform stood two men dressed in grass skirts with woven mats on their chests, wearing what looked to be war paint on the sides of their cheeks. In front of them rested hollowed-out logs with an animal skin pulled tightly over the top, while they held two large bones in each of their hands. When all the families had taken their designated seats, the chief raised his arm and a hush fell over the assembly.

  "Amata le pati!" he hollered, nodding toward the two drummers flanking his platform.

  The drummers started beating their drums rhythmically, and everyone began singing and chanting in their native dialect while the young women of each family stood to assemble in the central square. Teuila squeezed my hand, then stood up to join the other girls in the pit. As the older women began singing in their heavily accented intonation, the girls in the square began swinging and shaking their hips in rhythm with the beat. I watched in fascination as they swiveled their perfectly toned bodies to the music. Their grass skirts shimmied suggestively as their bare stomachs a
nd breasts writhed under the skimpy covering of their flowery leis.

  This was the first time I'd seen Teuila's pretty figure partially unclothed since the waterfall, and my eyes widened as I watched her sexy hips swaying to the music. She had virtually no fat on her immaculately toned stomach, and my mouth watered watching her abdominal muscles twitching and flexing on her tanned midriff. Knowing she was naked under her heavy straw skirt made the display all the more intoxicating, and I began to shake my own hips on the ground, as much in sympathy with the dancers as to produce some much-needed friction on my acting clit.

  After a few minutes, Te' pointed at me and curled her finger in a come-hither manner, motioning for me to join the girls in their hula dance. I looked at her with a quizzical expression shaking my head, but she danced closer to me and held out her hand for me to stand up. I looked at the other women sitting around the square as they continued singing, and they smiled and nodded at me, encouraging me to join the group. I was still feeling a bit dizzy and sore, but I knew this was an opportunity I'd regret if I didn't take part.

  I clasped Te's hand and walked with her toward the other dancers, trying to mimic the shaking of their hips like I did when I was a little girl trying to balance a hula hoop. It felt awkward trying to match the vigor and pace of their movements, and as I joined the line, the older women around the camp smiled at me with big grins. Whether they were simply trying to contain their mirth at the awkward attempts of the European woman attempting to mimic their native dance technique, or they were just happy to see me joining in with the rest of the locals in the celebration, was unclear. I looked up at the chief resting on the platform, and he nodded approvingly at my awkward attempt to dance an authentic tribal hula.

  At least I can blame my rubbery legs on the after-effects of the snake venom, I thought.

  After ten minutes or so, I began to feel wobbly, and I motioned to Teuila that I needed to sit down. She nodded and escorted me back to our resting position, holding my hand as she continued shimmying her hips to the music. When the song ended, the hula girls sat down with their families, and a group of young men carrying long spears stood to take opposite positions in two straight lines facing one another about five feet apart.

  As the drummers began beating their drums more vigorously, the two men at the far end of the line moved into the center row and began dancing in a side-step fashion toward the front of the line, thrusting their spears forward and back in a menacing fashion. The combination of their fierce expressions and scary war paint, along with the waving of their stone-tipped spears, certainly looked convincing to me. I wondered what purpose these warrior actors could find for their threatening weapons in what appeared to be an otherwise peace-loving culture.

  When the two men from the back of the line reached the front, they took positions beside their compatriots in the straight lines, stomping the bottom of their spears on the ground as the next pair at the end of the line copied their routine. In this manner, the line of warriors slowly but steadily approached closer to the chief's platform and our own position. As the drumming and chanting slowly built toward a crescendo, Teuila squeezed my hand as if to assure me that the spectacle was all for fun.

  But I noticed as the final pair of dancers approached the front of the line that the tallest and most imposing one kept his eyes locked on Teuila the whole time. When he reached the end of the line, he bellowed some kind of war chant and glanced down at the two of us holding hands, then he took his position at the front of the formation, closest to the chief.

  "That one seems to have a special interest in you," I whispered to Teuila, trying not to stare at his scary expression.

  "I think he has designs on me," Te' nodded. "Manaia's been following me around the village the last few months. I've caught him and my father having private chats whenever I return from the women's lagoon."

  "Well he certainly looks like a capable mate," I said, noticing the young man flexing his arm and leg muscles as he stared at us.

  "That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Teuila said as she passed me some fresh plates of fish and manioc from the buffet table in front of us. "But for now, let's not fret about what may be. Let's enjoy the moment and savor all the good food and dancing."

  7

  After the ceremony ended, Teuila's family returned to their small hut, where we all slept shoulder-to-shoulder on the dusty floor. I wanted to reach out and touch her lying next to me, but her father's heavy breathing so close by soon squelched my desire. In the morning, we all shared a hearty breakfast of frigate eggs, yams, and fermented breadfruit paste on the porch overlooking the courtyard. As I gobbled up the savory mix of yolk-stained starch and sour mash, I marveled at how tasty the local cuisine was in the absence of our typical Western condiments.

  Later that morning, Teuila led me on a private tour of the island. As we traipsed into the heavy brush along a stony path, I shook my head wondering how she could cover such rough ground in bare feet. The only thing she carried with her was a stone adze which she used to hack away the overhanging leaves, and the one-piece dress on her back made from pressed bark.

  "Be careful with that thing," I said, following her a few feet behind. "We don't want to antagonize another one of those tree snakes. I'm not sure I could carry you back to the village like you did for me if you get bitten."

  "Don't worry about me," Teuila said. "I've acquired a certain degree of immunity. Our people believe that all living things are endowed with supernatural powers—what we call mana. We've learned to live in harmony with our fellow island dwellers. As long as we leave them alone, they shouldn't cause us too much trouble."

  "Tell that to the critter who bit me by the waterfall. I don't think he's recognized my mana yet."

  "Never fear," Te' chuckled, "Worst-case scenario, I can always resuscitate you with my special potion."

  "Mmm, yes," I said, remembering our last kiss. "In that case, bring on all the angry serpents you can find."

  As I watched her scamper over the jagged rocks and thick brush lining the trail, I glanced at her soiled feet.

  "How can you walk over all this rough terrain in bare feet?" I asked. "I'm wearing heavy hiking shoes, and I'm already feeling sore and all scratched up."

  "The soles of our feet get pretty toughened up from all the coarse surfaces we walk on from the moment we're born. Between the sandy beaches, the rocks in the lagoon, and rough brush in the jungle, we soon develop a thick skin to protect us against most obstacles. But if you need to rest for a moment, there's a clearing up ahead where we can stop for a bite to eat."

  "I could use a little respite," I nodded, breathing heavily from the steep uphill climb. "I'm a little out of shape from all the lounging around I've been doing since I began my tour of these Pacific islands."

  We stopped at a small clearing surrounded by a copse of tall palm trees.

  "Are you hungry?" Te' asked.

  "I could do with a bite, but we didn't bring anything. What did you have in mind?"

  "The island provides everything we need," she said, glancing up toward the canopy of trees. "How about some fresh pineapple?"

  I looked up and saw a clump of spiny pods bunched together under the leafy umbrella of long green fronds at the top of the tree.

  "I'd love some, but how can we get those down?"

  Teuila smiled, as she rubbed the bottom of her feet.

  "These tough soles are good for more than just walking over rough surfaces," she said.

  She placed her adze on the ground, then approached one of the palm trees and grasped its cracked bark with two hands, placing the soles of her feet in perpendicular positions against the sides of the trunk. She pulled her body toward the trunk and lifted her feet a few inches higher, pointing her knees outward. Then she pressed upward with her legs, taking a higher handhold on the stem. After a series of similar shimmying maneuvers, it didn't take long for her to ascend halfway up the tree.

  I shook my head, dumbfounded at how easily she could sc
ale the timber using just her arms and legs. With her legs splayed apart, I could clearly see under her tunic, and my pussy began to water as I watched her buttocks and vulva flexing with each leapfrog up the tree. When she neared the crown, she looked down and called out to me.

  "You might want to stand back a bit. I'm going to shake the tree now, which should drop a few pineapples. They're pretty sharp and prickly, so make sure you stay out of the way."

  I nodded as I looked up at her, taking a few steps back. As she started shaking her body against the tree, the leaves began rustling and a few seconds later four or five pineapples plopped to the ground beside me. She descended the tree just as easily as she'd climbed it, and when she got to the bottom, she rubbed the loose bark off her hands then brushed the debris covering the front of her gown.

  "Now I see why you native girls wear such thick clothing," I said, pinching her cloth between my fingers. It felt a bit like thin cardboard, though it clung to her curvy figure like a cotton dress.

  "The bark of the mulberry tree is like papyrus," she said. "And it's easy to decorate using turmeric dye and volcanic mud. Nothing goes to waste on our island."

  I picked up one of the spiny pineapples off the ground and held it in my hand, feeling its heavy weight.

  "These look pretty nutritious. But how will we get to the flesh inside?"

  "It's simple with the right tools," Teuila said, taking the fruit from my hand.

  She placed the husk against the side of the tree, then deftly hacked the two ends off with her sharp adze. Then she chopped the shell in half across the middle and placed the two hollow rings against the trunk and cut each section into two semi-circular crescents. We sat down, leaning our backs against the tree, and bit into the juicy pulp like watermelon pieces. The yellow juice squirted all over my face as I bit into it, running down my chin. I drew the back of my hand across my mouth, then wiped the sticky juice on the blanket of leaves lining the forest floor.

 

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