Wild Safari Panty Diary: 6 Days of Filthy Fun in the Bush

Seller Erotic Fiction

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Six days in the South African bush. Two thongs. One pair of panties. All worn for 48 hours each while lions prowled, elephants grazed, and giraffes watched from just beyond the lodge fence. Every sunrise, every game drive, every sweaty afternoon by the pool, I soaked them deeper in filth. This was more than a safari — it was the wildest panty diary I’ve ever made.

Day 1 – First Sunrise

We were up at 5am, the bush still dark, the air cool and damp. I slipped into Thong #1, lace tight and fresh against my skin. As the jeep rattled over dirt tracks, I pressed my thighs together, pretending to be focused on the horizon. We spotted elephants in the mist, giraffes nibbling treetops, and zebra clustered together. Every bounce made me grind harder, the thong clinging wetter to my clit.

By breakfast I was already sticky. I ducked into the lodge bathroom and tugged it aside, pumping two fingers into my pussy until my thighs trembled. I stopped before I came — I wanted the thong to steep in my ache. That night I couldn’t resist. I humped the pillow until I soaked right through, flipping it over to hide the wet patch before falling asleep still pulsing.

Day 2 – Lions and Leaks

At dawn we found lion tracks, then a pride lounging in the grass. My heart raced, not just from seeing them, but from the way the jeep jolted me into arousal. The thong was already glued to me from the night before, and by mid-drive a wet patch darkened my shorts. I laughed it off with a water “spill,” but really it was my cunt soaking through.

By the pool later, impala grazed just beyond the fence. I lay under a towel, thighs wide, rubbing myself until I squirted. The towel drank it up, and I folded it neatly as if nothing had happened. That night I came twice more, pressing the thong hard to my clit, licking it between orgasms, gagging on the musk before pulling it back on.

Day 3 – Spa Seduction

A new day, a new thong. Thong #2 — soft lace that didn’t stand a chance. Morning drive: wildebeest, warthogs, and even a leopard lounging in a tree. I rocked in my seat, thighs squeezing with every bump, juices soaking the gusset darker and darker.

The spa in the afternoon was bliss. Oils dripped over my thighs while hands kneaded my shoulders, but all I could think about was the thong hidden under my robe, sticky and wet. Back in my room I spread my legs wide on the bed and rubbed until I squirted across the sheets. I yanked the blanket over the patch, grinning at how easy it was to hide.

That evening, the jeep jolted me into another orgasm while elephants marched beside us. Again I tipped water across my lap, masking the real flood. By bedtime, the thong reeked of sweat, oil, and cunt.

Day 4 – The Fence Between Us

In the morning I woke to impala grazing just beyond the lodge fence, watching as I padded across the room in nothing but the thong. It was stiff in patches now, heavy with layers of dried and fresh cum. I peeled it off and strings of slick clung between us before I shoved it straight back on.

The afternoon was scorching. I dipped in the pool, then lay back to dry, fingering myself under a towel until I gushed again. With water dripping down my skin, nobody could tell. On the evening drive, lions prowled close to the jeep — I spread my thighs and rubbed myself slowly, imagining being caught, while the thong squelched with every touch. That night, I stuffed it deep inside me and slept with it filling my pussy, soaking up everything I leaked.

Day 5 – Panty Takeover

Fresh panties now — soft cotton, full coverage, perfect for trapping filth. Sunrise brought rhinos, hippos wallowing in the river, and me, rocking in my seat until my panties were visibly wet. Again, I faked a clumsy spill with my water bottle to disguise the dark patch spreading across my thighs.

At breakfast, I slipped away, pulled them aside in the bathroom, and fingered myself until I squirted on the tiles. I mopped it up with the panties before pulling them back on, now heavier and musky with piss-sharp squirt. Walking around later, every step made the soaked fabric cling tighter.

By afternoon, giraffes drifted past the fence while I lay by the pool, panties swollen with filth. That night, I straddled a pillow and rode it until I soaked through to the mattress, then threw a towel over the patch before collapsing in my mess.

Day 6 – Filthy Finale

The panties were foul now — heavy, crusted, and stinking of me. I woke up licking them, gagging on my own taste before sliding them back onto my cunt.

On the final game drive, elephants surrounded the jeep. I rubbed openly, rocking until I came, soaking the seat beneath me. Once again, I tipped water across my lap to hide the truth, smiling at my dirty little secret.

Back at the lodge, I locked myself in the bathroom for one last ruin. I sat on the tiles, legs wide, fingering myself until I screamed. I wrung the panties out over my chest, juice dripping onto my skin, before pulling them back on for the drive home. Ruined. Untamed. Mine.

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