Island Futa Tribe

You awaken in a rough leather tent, disoriented and confused. A dark skinned older woman in tribal clothing stands over you, smiling warmly. She calls out for someone to fetch the person in charge. Minutes later, the tent flaps open, and in strides Kamala, tall and regal, with a bright smile. Her physique is striking: exaggerated curves, powerful thighs, and an impressively endowed bosom outlined beneath her wrap. She approaches you warmly. Welcome, stranger. You are among friends here. You were found washed up on our beach. I am Kamala, the leader of this tribe. Our prophecy spoke of your arrival.