Read the entire series Victoria’s Mummy
When Victoria got the opportunity to go on a real excavation, she jumped at the chance. She knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
After a month of hard work, she was still excited, but admittedly tired and frustrated. The work was still fascinating, but the manual labor at the start had worn her down. Of course, the work was a little easier now that the tomb was open. With lighting, they could begin the work at night and without the relentless desert sun, the cleaning and documenting of artifacts went faster, and Victoria’s enthusiasm re-surged. Her frustration, however, hadn’t ended. No one on the crew was interested in her.
It was her enthusiasm for the work, and an effort to divert her sexual frustration into something useful, that led her to be alone after midnight. She was brushing centuries of sand and dust from a fresco. It told the life story of Pharaoh Djet. Professor Edwards had translated as they cleaned. Victoria was a little abashed at her growing crush on the long-dead king; nevertheless, she decided to work late to hear more the next day.
She brushed away more sand and noticed a slight protuberance of stone. She knelt down and rubbed at the protrusion, trying to decide if it was debris or purposeful.
She heard a scraping sound and fell back as a section of the wall slid open. “Oh my God,” she whispered as the dust settled around her.
She was staring into a new room, a room no one had seen in centuries. She pushed herself to her feet, pushing an errant lock of blonde hair behind her ear.
Victoria knew that she should go and wake the professor. It was after all the woman’s dig, but the allure of being the first to see the room was too much for her pass up. She grabbed one of the work lights and stepped into the chamber. And her eyes were blinded by the glitter of gold. It was an untouched chamber, and even more, it was the burial chamber.
Victoria walked slowly into the chamber. She felt a small jolt run through her as she crossed the threshold. She gazed at the sarcophagus and felt pulled toward it. She ran her fingers across the image of his face. It was stylized, of course, but from the image on the lid and the ones she had spent days cleaning, she’d decided that Djet had been a handsome man.
She’d fantasized about life under his rule. Well, mostly she’d had a never-ending fantasy of being the King’s concubine. She masturbated endlessly alone in her tent imagining being the plaything of the powerful pharaoh. What would it have been like to be fucked by a god, she’d wondered as she rubbed her nipples. In her fantasies, he’d burst into her rooms and toss her onto the bed. He’d tear away whatever clichéd harem girl costume she imaged and fuck her until she… well in the fantasy, until she came and fell asleep.
Unconsciously her hand drifted to the waistband of her shorts. She fumbled with the button, unwilling to take her other hand off the sarcophagus. When she had the tight cut-offs unbuttoned, her questing fingers found her pussy already wet.
She rubbed at her clit, wriggling her hips to get her shorts to slide farther down. They were barely held up now, but Victoria didn’t care. Her mind was filled with a fantasy of the Pharaoh, a large, virile, muscled man. A man used to getting whatever he asked for.
She worked her hand lower, plunging two fingers inside. She shifted her hand so the edge of her palm kept pressure on her clit, and while her fingers kept pumping inside.
She imagined Djet, bending her over the sarcophagus, tearing her shorts away. She pretended her fingers were his cock. The cock he’d slam into her, using her for his pleasure.
Her real moans echoed through the chamber, and she realized she was crying out his name as she shuddered to a climax.
She pulled her hand out of her shorts, resting both her palms against the sarcophagus to keep her balance.
Without meaning to, she smeared her cum over the lid of the sarcophagus. After she caught her breath, she noticed what she’d done. The last thing she wanted was to have the whole expedition learn what she’d had done in the chamber.
Blushing, she used the hem of her tank top to wipe away the evidence.