Cave paintings

The first people to enter the great cave had been archaeologists, searching an ancient culture.

They had found it.

Steven stared up at the paintings, a hand on his sweaty brow. There were hunting dioramas and the like but what drew his attention was a section that seemed oddly moist. Oily.

The paintings there were of exaggerated figures. Spear cocked warrior men. Women with bodies like fertility idols.

He stared at it even as he raised his camera to take pictures of.

"Remarkable," he breathed, and then thought nothing more of it.

As he continued in, staring at the paintings, Steven felt a growing pain in his groin, ragged breaths coming to him as they descended.

Was the cave low on oxygen?

Jane, his research colleague, looked on at him, a worried expression forming on her face, "You alright there, Steven?" she called out into the cave, making her way towards him slowly. "You're looking flush, here, have some water, we'll get back to the surface and get you checked out my the med team-"

"No!" he cut her off, "N-no, no I'm alright, Jane. I feel, I feel" tribal flashes rushing through his mind, going straight to his brain stem, to his core.

He felt himself regressing in desires, base needs, flashes of tribal dances, tribal clothing, gutteral noises.

He shook his head. 'I'll be fine, Jane, I just have to get some air.'

He headed up and out of the cave, returning only after everyone else was gone.

Gingerly he had pulled his now massive cock out of his pants, practically weeping at the pain.

He had begun to stroke it. The pain had ebbed and he winced in relief before it finally erupted over the images.

Light seemed to dance along them, illuminating the low place. Somewhere he could hear drumming.