In the heart of the vast wilderness, far from the bustling cities and prying eyes, lived a woman named Mountain. She was a striking figure, with a voluptuous body and a luxurious mane of raven-black hair that cascaded down her back. Her most prominent feature, however, was her generous, round buttocks that swayed enticingly with every step she took.
One day, while out exploring the dense forest, she stumbled upon a young Indian maiden, bathing in a secluded pool. The girl, named Indira, was a beauty to behold, with caramel-colored skin, almond-shaped eyes, and a lush, full figure. Her long, black hair was adorned with fragrant flowers, and her curves were barely concealed by the thin strip of cloth that she wore.
Mountain, captivated by the sight of the young Indian maiden, approached her slowly, trying not to startle her. She offered the girl some berries that she had picked along the way, and the two women soon found themselves engaged in conversation.
As they talked, Mountain couldn’t help but admire Indira’s supple body, and the way her breasts jiggled with every movement. She felt a familiar heat building between her legs, and she knew that she wanted this girl, wanted to feel her soft skin against hers, wanted to taste her sweet nectar.
Indira, for her part, seemed to sense Mountain’s desire, and she responded with a slow, sultry smile. She stood up, allowing the water to cascade down her body, revealing every inch of her luscious curves. She approached Mountain, her hips swaying, her eyes locked on Mountain’s.
