Erotic Sex Story : Our Cultural Trip to the Small Village in the Amazon

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It was our first visit ever to this small village in the Amazon. Neha, my wife, and I, visited as a Cultural Exchange Program Brazil. The day was bright and everything looked great. Upon landing at the Rio Airport, we booked a taxi to the small village where we were supposed to spend the rest of the week. After a two hour drive, we reached our destination and a crowd of tribal men and women greeted us. To our surprise, the people had little clothes to cover their bodies. Women were topless and so were the men. I couldn’t help from staring at big voluptuous bosoms.
The sun was setting down and our tribal host showed us the thatched straw hut we were to sleep in. We were presented with straw skirts and were supposed to wear them the next morning. Neha and I were both tired because of traveling, so we slept without much talking unaware of what’s going to proceed the next day. At about 7 AM, I heard people talking outside our hut and I saw a group of village girls waiting to take us to the common breakfast they arranged for us. We had to adapt to their culture and ways of life for the next 2 weeks, meaning to dress like them, eat what they eat and so on. After all, it was about their culture.
I took my shirt and pants off and wore the grass-woven skirt, and so did Neha. It was a new experience for both of us to be dressed that way, especially for Neha, and to be topless in public. After some initial shyness and reluctance, we went out of our hut. The girls waiting outside started to smile when they saw us in their traditional costume. One of them had a bowl of paint. She made some colored marks on Neha’s body as per the tribal traditions. Neha couldn’t hide her emotions and I saw her face blush. Just outside the tribal chief’s hut, breakfast was arranged for us…wooden tables with fruits and honey. There were about 50-75 people sitting next to each other, and we were seated next to the chief and his wife. The breakfast started. We ate tropical fruits which we have never seen before. Then I noticed something strange. Some of the men were breastfeeding from the women next to them and suckled, while the women continued to eat fruits. Mia, our translator, and the tribal girl from the village realized my curiosity and whispered that it was normal for husbands and relatives to nurse from lactating mothers. Breast milk was consumed as food in the tribe.
We were told that it was considered to be highly prestigious if a guest was offered breast milk. The guest must never say “No” or else it’s considered to be an insult towards the hospitality of the host. When the breakfast was over, we started doing the days task as everybody else was doing, like collecting fruit and bringing woods for fuel. I noticed that most women of the village had very developed breasts and long pointy nipples. It was due to extended nursing. It seemed that in the absence of any cattle, women were the only source of milk for the villagers.
The day was moving forward and we started to feel hungry, nevertheless we kept on working like other villagers. Neha made a scream catching my sudden attention. She was stung by a wasp on her breast and it started to swell. The people around us also came to help and took us to their only doctor, a traditional herbal doc. Our guide told us that the wasp that stung Neha was common there and the cure is an herbal paste. Sometimes, the point of sting had to be sucked by the herbal doctor to make sure that the sting venom is extracted out. The herbal doctor was on old man in his 70’s and had lots of tattoos on his bare chest. Neha shivered with shock as he took her breast in his hand and applied the herbal paste. While he held her breast firmly applying the medicine, a tiny drop of milk came out from Neha’s nipple. Neha had always maintained a supply of milk even after she stopped breastfeeding our son. Drops often came out whenever we had foreplay, but this was obviously an embarrassing moment for her, and she started to look at me with a mix of complain and shyness. I told her that she was going to be okay. I also noticed that the girls who accompanied us to the doctor started chanting ” mimo, mimo, mimo,” when they saw the drop of milk come out from Neha’s nipple. Our guide told us that “mimo” meant milk in their language.
The next day, four mature tribal women came to us with a bowl containing blue dye. They made some tribal color designs on Neha’s back and on her belly. We had no idea what this coloring was all about, until an hour later when our guide told Neha, that the design made on her was an indication to others that she was a lactating woman, and lactating women are treated with special favors and respect in their tribe. Then to our complete surprise, I was told that today, I would go alone for fruit picking and collecting woods, and that Neha would be assigned new tasks. I accompanied Neha, along with the guide and other women to a hut that looked more like a tribal kindergarten with 10-15 kids, ranging from 6 months to 5 years of age. This was the new environment where Neha would be working, separated from me.
I departed and started to work with the other men. It was a very bright sunny day and the moisture in the air was too much to endure, but the locals looked quite comfortable with it. Time passed very slowly that day and I missed being with Neha. That afternoon when I returned to the village from work, I started to search for Neha and found her in the same hut. “Oh my gosh” I said! Neha, what are you doing?” She just smiled holding two babies in her lap latched on to her nipples. “This is my new job Neha replied”. I was stunned and confused on our way back to our hut. Neha told me that its customary for women having milk to nurse village children, and that she did not mind it, as she found it easier than working in the jungle and getting stung by wasps or bees. Finding Neha happy about it, I didn’t complain.
Neha was getting molded more and more into their tribal culture. In just 4 days, Neha’s breasts transformed and looked heavier and milk laden. Getting continuously suckled by kids was impacting her breast and nipple form. In quite a few days, she started looking the same as other tribal ladies with bare breasts and pointed nipples. Mia, the tribal guide girl, was very frank with both of us. She told Neha that the tribal ladies were very happy with Neha for feeding the village babies, and also spoke highly of Neha’s milk. Some of the older kids in age ranges of 4-5 years, told their families that they liked Neha’s milk more than that of other lactating mothers, providing this service to the village. In my opinion, it was because we were of a different ethnic background and obviously that made her milk taste different from others. So perhaps the children of the village find her milk to taste differently. The fame of Neha’s milk spread rapidly and often women and girls came to Neha with small earthen pots, requesting her to squirt some for them. All that started to make Neha a little proud about herself and she started to boast about her milk to me.
It was Friday, the last day of our first week there, and as per tribal traditions, Friday was the day of a big feast. At noon, everybody would gather with their fruits and other foods to the central eating place. The tribal people seemed to like us, and we saw many happy and smiling faces. Once again to honor us, we were to sit with the most respected of the tribe. Everything was going normal, and then all of a sudden Neha pulled my arm to get my attention. I saw the most unbelievable scene. The guy sitting next to Neha started to suckle from her breast. Neha held me tight, shivering and shocked but didn’t make any sound.
It was a common norm of the tribe and we had to be like them and act like them. After a minute of suckling, he let it go and started to speak to others in their tribal language. It seemed they were discussing something and most were staring at Neha intermittently. Then they started getting busy with eating food. Our guide told us, that the man told other’s that Neha’s milk was as sweet as honey, and is different from milk of their own women. His praise of Neha’s milk created an awkward situation for us. Almost every second person was interested to suckle from her. Neha just closed her eyes and let them suckle. She was blushing, as this was something very unexpected and new to us. I got jealous, but I controlled my feelings. The following night, I talked to Neha about it. She kissed me and told me that I should not worry much about it, as this was only a temporary thing, and was not sexual for the tribal culture.
For the next couple of days, the same routine followed. Neha was getting suckled by men and women, but now Neha was getting used to it and more confident…no more closed eyes and face blushes. It seemed that her milk casted a spell on the villagers. She was very much respected and everybody bought gifts in form of garlands and fruits for her. In just 12 days, her breasts grew in size, became very pendulous with very developed nipples. She looked very comfortable in her new role as milkmaid. Often she would leak milk, even when she was not breastfeeding. She became a supply house of milk.

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During the last day of our stay, the villagers gave a big party in our honor. Neha was bathed with jungle scents and flower extracts, and was treated like a princess. Her nipples were painted red with a special herbal extract. All sorts of food were served, followed by a traditional tribal dance. Neha and I joined the dance. It was a very special environment, jolly and cozy. Then all of a sudden, a baby started to cry and caused a let-down effect in Neha… her milk started to leak as she danced. People started to notice it and came in groups to suckle from her, appreciating her after suckling. The mode of the party had a strange effect on all of us…everybody was lost in merriment and joys. Neha was out of control, squeezing her milk with her own hands in the mouths of all the people, and looking towards me with pride and honor in her eyes. She was totally transformed and had become one like them.
The time passed quickly and we had to depart from our host. In the evening, an old van came to the village to pick us up. We said good bye to our friends and left for the city. It was all like an unbelievable dream. We flew back to our country the next day with pleasant memories of it

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