EROTIC FANTASY ISLAND CHAPTER 1
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EROTIC FANTASY ISLAND - CHAPTER 12 free porn video
CHAPTER 12
Sylvia was in a three truck convoy winding through the jungle just inside Venezuela. The trucks contained the a****ls she had acquired for the resort from the Guarani people. The trip had been long and was going to be still longer. She was in the middle truck of the three, a pickup that contained Thor, Wolf, and a goat. She was dozing as she sat in the passenger seat of the truck. The drive had been uncomfortable and she didn’t see that changing any time soon. The weather was hot and humid, exactly what the jungle was supposed to be.
The driver nudged her shoulder, respectfully. Sylvia wasn’t just an older woman, but a woman who clearly had the means and influence for such a trip to covertly get a****ls out of Brazil and into Venezuela. She straightened up, fussing with her hair absently, as if the way her hair might look in the jungle could be important.
“Is there a problem?”
“The dog, Senora.” He was pointing to the back of the truck.
She turned in her seat as the truck slowed to a stop. The driver honked to warn the truck ahead that they were stopping. Wolf was agitated. Wolf was tremendously agitated. As the truck slowed, Wolf jumped from the back, his head held high in the air, moving one way and then another. Sylvia swore quietly and scrambled out of the cab of the truck.
“Wolf! Come back here.” She looked at Thor in case he might be ready to do the same thing, but he seemed quiet. He was watching Wolf, but he seemed to be at peace with the world. Wolf came back to the truck, but he continued to keep his head high in the air, as if he were trying to determine a scent, a direction of a scent, or … something … whatever it was, it was very deliberate for him, but clearly it was only for him.
Wolf pranced back and forth, turning around the truck in pursuit of something only he knew what. Then he stopped about 20 feet behind the truck. He was facing southwest and he stood perfectly still. To Sylvia, it was eerie to see his concentration on nothing that was evident to anyone or anything else. The last thing Sylvia remembered about the event was Wolf stopping and turning to her. He then turned back to the same direction and released a long, piercing howl that sounded to her filled with pain and mournfulness. He then leapt into the jungle and disappeared. They called and searched, but they had to continue their trek if they were to reach their destination by nightfall. He was gone.
* * * *
The Guarani people left the river. It wasn’t as soon as the canoe disappeared around the bend. They couldn’t even have said why they delayed. They knew I was leaving. They knew I was gone. But, the black panther remained, so they remained, at least for a while. Slowly, a few at a time, then more together, they left the side of the river. But, the panther remained. When the last of the people had left and returned the short distance to the village, the panther still waited.
Later in the day, out of curiosity more than anything, several of the women returned to the river. The panther was still in the same location. He sat on his haunches, exactly as he had been, exactly where he had been. The women shared a look of concern and sadness for the a****l. They wanted to console the a****l, to take it in their arms for comfort, but they dared not. Not a wild panther. Instead, they hugged each other, unsure what else they could do. They were experienced with a****ls, all of them. They wouldn’t fool themselves, though. They weren’t Celina; they weren’t Annie. They left the a****l at the side of the river, but they shared the sadness and the loss that the a****l felt.
Later still, they returned again to the river. This time they brought water and food … in case. The panther, Annie called it Preta, was still there. He was curled on the ground, but rose when he heard them approach. They didn’t dare to approach too close, but left the food and water bowls where he could see them.
The next morning, they did the same thing, retrieving the bowls from the night before and replacing them with fresh food and water. They sat separate from the a****l for a time. They thought they were merely providing company, maybe comfort, in sharing time and space with the a****l. In truth, they were experiencing a similar, if not as profound, sense of emptiness and loss. How is it that someone enters their life as an intruder, an outsider, and becomes such an integral part of life in the villages? How does a bond become formed so quickly and so powerfully?
Sometime around high sun, they returned. This time not out of a pretense for providing food and water, this time because they wanted to share the time with the a****l. This time many more of the people join them. Later, this place would continue to be used as a place to remember, to reflect on what was and on what would be as a result because of that unique bond. Now, though, this gathering was to be marked by something else that would stay in the people’s memories.
As in other times, the people found the a****l sitting in the same location watching, sniffing the air, tilting its ears, in hopeful anticipation. As they all sat along the river this time, though, there was a change. The change was not in the river, the jungle, or the arrival of anyone or anything. At least, there was nothing that any of the people could discern. None the less, the panther sudden stood, prowled around the people in circles, sniffing the air, listening, peering, searching the river and jungle with its eyes. The people took this to mean something and their own anticipation and hopes rose despite knowing full well that the young woman had indeed left, not to return. When the a****l stopped roaming, prowling, and searching, the people watched intently for what would follow next. The what that came next surprised them all. The a****l stared intently across the river, but not at the shore. He seemed to be focused far into the jungle. Then, he jumped into the water, swam across to the other side, and disappeared into the jungle. They never found the a****l around the villages again.
* * * *
Moments of awareness. I sensed being back in one of the villages of the Guarani, the sounds of the jungle at night, the sounds of the jungle in the day, the sounds of someone moving quietly around me, the oppressive humid heat of mid-day, the coolness of the air when the rains came. But, only moments. Only fleeting moments. Never more than that. I wasn’t awake. I knew I wasn’t awake. And, I was only even aware for moments, but those fleeting moments were powerful. No, not awake. But all of that was good … all of that was wonderful … it meant I wasn’t dead.
* * * *
Awake. Was I? Or, was this just another moment? The sounds outside … I can identify them. The birds, the insects, the sound of chopping. Wood was being chopped. Fire. The crackling of a fire. Smells. Smoke, the smell of smoke. The fresh smell after a heavy rain. Feelings. Humidity. Heat in the air. Soreness in my body. Soreness, I haven’t been aware of that before. Different, this is different. Not fading, not disappearing into a void. Not fading. Staying. I still hear sounds, still smell.
Eyes? Darkness … no, faded light, filtered light, covered … covered! My eyes are covered! I try to speak … nothing happens. My throat is raspy, dry, and tight. I move my arms. Move the cover from my eyes. My arm hits something, it clatters to the floor. Wood on wood. A wooden floor. A shadow, someone coming …
“Easy … just lie still … easy, not too fast. Let your body adjust. You’re safe. Stay still.” The person, a man, moves away but returns, sitting next to me. I am on a cot? I think so, something raised off the floor. He is sitting on the edge now. He is raising my head.
“Some water … at your lips, feel it? Just sips, not too fast, not too much for now. There is plenty of water, take it slow.”
It hurts to swallow. Sips. Slow. He’s right. Each sip and swallow is easier, though. Each sip and swallow hurts less. I move my hand to my eyes. “Eyes.”
“Just a covering to keep it dark. And … let’s try taking it off …” He worked the tie at the back and I felt it coming off. I had my eyes closed. “Open your eyes … how is that?”
I open them, it is dark but I can see. I see him. He is rough looking, wild even. Long hair to his shoulders, crazy looking beard covering his face, ragged clothes covering a tanned body. “Good.” I flinch when I try to move my right leg.
“Yes, that will hurt. In fact, you should feel a lot of hurting over your body. Your leg was broken, the fibula, the smaller one in your calf. You wouldn’t know it now, don’t ask me how. But, it should be sore from lack of use as it healed.”
I was confused and disoriented. “How … where … who …?” I didn’t know which to focus on first.
He smiled at me and gently pushed me back onto my back on the cot. “You just came to … stay like that and I will tell you as much as I can. We’ll try to get some food into you. We’ll talk more …”
Everything was lucky according him, and hearing the story, I had to agree. He just happened to be at the river and the plane just happened to be going in the same direction as the river giving him a line of sight to follow the plane. If he had been anywhere else, he would have heard the plane but would never have seen it. Sighting the plane was unusual, but seeing something streak across the sky at the same time the plane banked sharply was more unusual. By the time he saw the second missile hit the tail of the plane, he was focused on it. Then, he saw the plane bank sharply back and forth and someone come out … me. I told him it was a trick on the pilot’s part to try to save me. He saw the parachute open. He moved in that direction, but that was made difficult by the jungle and his leg. He said he would explain that later.
He found me tangled in a tree. I was about 100 feet in the air. I didn’t look alive and he didn’t think I was, but he climbed up to where I was hanging from the chute, my arms still wrapped in the straps. He pulled me to him, check for a pulse and couldn’t find one. He was tempted to just cut the straps and let me fall, but that didn’t seem respectful, so he got some rope, tied it around my shoulders, and lowered me down, which turned into a chore because his rope wasn’t long enough. On the ground, he inspected me closer, but was most intent on whether I was alive. Again, he couldn’t find a pulse. He pinched me and got no reaction. He said he was ready to bury me there. I muttered, “Like that hasn’t happened before.” He asked me about that and this time I said later. He said he didn’t bury me because just then he noticed my eyes moving under my lids. Then a finger twitched. He checked my pulse, again. Nothing. But, he knew something was different. He used meditative techniques to quiet his body, then he found it. Very shallow, very weak, but regular. He brought me back to his camp on a travois he constructed.
Once settled into his camp, he inspected my body for injury. That was when he found my broken fibula, which he set and splinted. He cleaned cuts and abrasions. He did a crude job (his words) of suturing the deep cuts, all using items from his field kits. I was u*********s for about two weeks. Hearing that, I jerked back up, but he pressed me back down.
“I know … there are probably people worried about you. But, there is nothing we can do about that now. You’ve been here for the past two weeks because there was nowhere else to take you. You wanted to know where you are? You are in ‘nowhere’, literally, the middle of nowhere in the jungle.” I eased my head down and closed my eyes, tears streaming out of them at the thought of people wondering without knowing.
At that point, he went out and brought back some food and water. We ate, then talked some more. We introduced ourselves formally. His name was Sam James. Why he was in the middle of the jungle alone? Death by jungle. He recounted the concept of a felon not wanting to go back to jail, so he chooses ‘death by cop’. He runs at cops holding a gun. He’s shot with 30 bullets. Sure death. His approach was all that seemed available. He hesitated before telling his story, but over the next couple days as I recovered more strength, he told me all of it … maybe most of it.
He was a killer, but he didn’t like the word or the implication. He wasn’t a hired gun, at least not a general for-gun. He worked for governments, very secret, very selective. He and others in the group did the work that the courts couldn’t get done on an international scale. His targets were all bad people, very bad people. He didn’t question that they deserved to die for the good of the civilized world. What he developed a problem with was the number of times and some of the concepts, especially the concept of no witnesses left and no loose ends. He knew he was getting sloppy. Killing, he said, takes a bit of your good being with it each time. After a while, you wonder if you have good left in you. It is when you start thinking that way that things start going bad. The second to the last time, he was given a target, a man who was very bad indeed. He knew when, he knew where, and in his preparation, he knew how. He was supposed to have three body guards. He found the man where he was supposed to be. Three body guards, the man, but there was also a woman, dressed in slinky dress, very high heels, and expensive jewelry. An escort. He got through the guards as planned, then walked up to the man. The woman wasn’t supposed to be there, he hesitated. She also was a guard, she had a throwing knife in her cleavage. She put up a hand as if to indicate ‘no, please’ and the other to her chest as if in fear. The knife was coming before he knew it. He twisted in time for it to hit his arm. Then he shot them both. After that, he knew he should be trying to get out of the business. But, getting out is … difficult.
The last target was in Venezuela. A couple who were selling weapons grade material and the plans to build the bomb. Their travel was by car. Between towns he stopped them. The couple got out, he killed them. He checked the car and found an elderly woman caring for a boy of 10 years. He hesitated, again. It was just a boy and his nanny. He hesitated, the boy looking past him at the bodies of his parents. He focused on the boy’s face, the anguish shown there. He never saw the woman pull a gun and shoot him. She wasn’t good, hit him in the right knee. He did kill them both. But, he also knew he couldn’t do that anymore.
That was when he hired a pilot to fly him over this piece of jungle, parachuted out, and expected to die within a week. That was about five years ago. He found he couldn’t just lie down and die. The jungle had to beat him, but it apparently couldn’t. But, that was why he had the medical kits. They were his field kits on assignments. It wasn’t unusual for him to have to patch himself up after an assignment.
“Which reminds me”, he said, “the stitches I put in will probably leave some ugly scars. I’m good enough to survive, not have it look good.”
I smiled at him, looked down and thought about what he had shared over the days. “You saved my life. The scars will reinforce an interesting story.” I looked up into his face. “Thank you, by the way, for not burying me.” I then told him more of my story, leaving out the b********y parts. At least for the moment.
* * * *
My strength came back over more days. After about a week of being awake, I was trying out my leg and body more and more. I was now moving around the camp vicinity, helping out where I could. While cutting up some roots for inclusion in a stew, I remembered something he had said that first day I woke up.
“Sam, earlier you told me about my leg and then muttered something about ‘don’t ask me how’ when referring to the break in my fibula. What did you mean?”
“Look at you. You are walking around, putting weight on it. Annie, it should be a good six weeks for even a fracture to heal in that bone. I know. I’ve been there and I had the best care and medicine to help me with it. You … shoot, you … you were healed in … I don’t know, a little over a week and I couldn’t feel the break, anymore. Your other wounds, too. Annie, you healed like … like I have never seen before.”
“I … I don’t understand …” And, I didn’t. What did that mean? How could it even be possible? I didn’t heal that way before in the hospital after Jake dug me out of the ground. Why now? I found no answers, of course. I could feel him watching me. But, I had no answers for him. But, I also knew that I needed to leave here, to find a way to return to somewhere, call Sylvia or somebody.
“How do I get back, Sam?”
“Get back? Walk. I would guess it’s about … oh, a week in that direction.” He pointed roughly northeast.
“A week? Through that jungle?”
“That’s it. The only way, unless you can call a helicopter and someone crazy enough to try to land it around here.”
“What do I need to do to make that trek?”
“Two things: Me and much better shape. You are good, Annie, I’m not taking that away from you. But, I’m not.” He pointed to his right leg. “You’re going to have to help me and you are going to have to be the one to keep us alive. Almost everything out there might kill us if it wants to. You need to have the conditioning and the stamina for both of us. If there is danger, you need to be the one that confronts it. I can back you up, but I can’t move well enough to make the difference as the primary. I don’t think you are a fighter.” He looked at me seriously. “You have to be able to, if it is required.”
“Sam, I don’t think I can kill anything … man or a****l.”
“That’s fine, unless you have to. But, if it is your survival, my survival, then you have to.”
I swallowed hard. I have never even thought of such a thing. “How?”
He smiled. “I’ll show you. I’ll train you to move, to protect yourself, to deflect, to strike. I’ll show you all the way to beat someone, something, without striking a killing blow until you have to. If you can show the someone or something that you can’t be intimidated, they often leave on their own. Focus on that. Focus on becoming dominant so that something doesn’t want anything to do with you.” I nodded.
He told me to get lots of rest that night. The next day started the training. How I progressed would dictate when we could leave. I didn’t like the idea of being our main defensive on the trip out. But, I wasn’t spending the next five years there like he had.
* * * *
He devised a weird assortment of gimmicks to assist me in building up my stamina and strength. I had come to live in shorts, boots, and bra. It was primarily for cooling and freedom of movement. But, I had to admit that it was also amazing to look down and to see how my body was changing after only a couple days. He was training me in martial arts, bow and arrow (that he had made for hunting), kendo stick, and kali arnis stick fighting. He stressed they were more for developing reactions and instinct, seeing movement and reacting to it.
One day, I was practicing with the bow. I had an arrow strung and taking aim when he came up alongside me.
“Turn away. When I say, turn to the target and shoot, no hesitation, no aim. Use your technique, just do it quickly. React to the target.” I did as he said and still hit the target. “Trust in yourself, Annie. Your instincts and natural reactions are amazing.”
I saw him look past me, he took a step to me and spoke quietly. “At 4 o’clock, move slowly but have an arrow ready.”
I strung an arrow and turned slowly. By the time I was approaching 4 o’clock, I was ready to release the arrow. A black panther was crouched in a ready to pounce pose. I breathed out, ready to release the arrow when I looked closer. “No, it can’t be.” I muttered it out loud. I watched the a****l, looking down the length of the arrow. It couldn’t be … could it? He rose out of his crouch and sat back. I smiled, dropped the bow to the ground, and to the utter shock of Sam, I rushed headlong into the panther. I embraced Preta and he licked me. When I released him from my embrace, he lay on the ground and offered his belly for rubbing.
Sam started coming close, but Preta gave him a warning growl. “You’re going to tell me you know this a****l?”
I laughed, “Sam, meet Preta. I helped him like you helped me. So, yeah, were close.”
Sam was just getting over that news when there was a low growl from the other side of the camp. A black wolf. Poor Sam, who ever heard of a black wolf or any wolf in the jungle.
“Wolf! You, too?” I rushed over to hug him and received his licks as well. Now, though, the two a****ls showed indications of territorial threats. I had to get firm with both of them, much to the disapproval of Sam, for them to quiet and accept each other. My affection for both of them, though, allowed their trust through me.
Sam was withdrawn and quiet the rest of the day as I spent most of it with Preta and Wolf, getting them familiar with each other and still not believing that they somehow found their way to me. When he finally came to me, he was hesitant.
“Annie, I don’t think I can begin to understand anything about you. The way your body heals, the way you have become stronger, quicker, your instincts and reaction are crisp and precise. That would have been confusing enough, but now these a****ls?”
“Sam, you’re right. You trusted me enough to share your difficult story. I need to share mine, now. But, funny … for me, you have heard the ugly part when I was abused and buried. The rest that I need to share is good. Deviant, but good.” I explained about the ranch, the trip to the resort, the offer to work with Sylvia and the resort and the trip to get the a****ls from the Guarani people, which brought me to the jungle and where we were.
He looked at me and the a****ls as I told the story. “Your tattoos … when I was inspecting your body for injuries … I saw the tattoos on your breast. I heard about the tattoos and the Guarani, but … frankly, few people believe it. It’s all true, then?” I nodded. “So, it is true that they worship someone called See-leen-a who mates with a****ls. And, the panther tattoo is …”
“Yes, but it is not a worshiping. They think of her as a guide, a teacher, but definitely not a deity. And, yes, this tattoo is Preta. The Guarani created it for me. It had never been done.” I was blushing. I was blushing partially because I had just shared such intimacies. I was also blushing because sharing those intimacies opened a door that we hadn’t considered opening before.
The days that followed were similar to the days before, filled with training and preparation. But, there were now two very capable males prepared to defend me and that relieved a lot of pressure and tension from the idea of attempting our escape from this place. There was something else different. There was a definite tension building between me and the three males in the camp. The tension wasn’t about what or if I wanted to do with each of the males. The tension was how to approach Sam about it so the situation would be comfortable … for him. And, like most things, the direct and open options is usually the best.
After a full day of activity, Sam’s knee often was achy and stiff by nightfall. Guiding me through my training, although focused on me, was still active for him, more active than he would normally want his knee to be. So, like most all the night of the past days, I found him in the hut. He had taken the natural concoction of herbs that the Guarani showed me would relieve pain and swelling, herbs that appeared to be in natural abundance. He was massaging his knee and thigh when I entered the hut. The pain and soreness migrated from his knee into the thigh muscles during the day as he u*********sly attempted to compensate.
I entered the hut barefoot, the a****ls following me. Now that they had found me, they were rarely more than ten feet from me. I pointed to the floor and they both found a spot to settle down. It had surprised me how much Preta was picking up from watching Wolf in terms of training and commands. Although more independently minded, like all cats, he generally followed the same commands.
I stopped just inside the hut looking at Sam quietly. He felt the silence and expectation, stopped his massaging and looked up at me. I smiled shyly at him in the light of the two candles burning inside the hut for light in the dusk of evening.
“Sam … I want to thank you. Truly thank you.” I reached behind my back and unhook my bra that was showing the wear of constant use as an outer garment. “I want to thank you for rescuing me, saving me. I want to thank you for caring for me, watching over me and taking care of me when I couldn’t. I want to thank you for training me and preparing me for what I need to anticipate, if we are to walk out of the jungle.” I was now unsnapping my shorts and pushing them down my legs. I had long since gone commando. He was watching me closely. For all the time lately since coming to the jungle, nudity was taken for granted. It wasn’t with him. I saw myself differently as I stood before him. After all this time, my pubic and arm pits hair had grown back.
He saw me watching him. He felt the silence. “Annie … I … you don’t have to …”
I put up my hands to effectively stop him. “Something you need to understand about me, Sam. If there was any sense that I had to do this, should do this, or any reason other than that it was what I wanted to do, it probably wouldn’t be happening.” I looked at him in seriousness. “If you don’t want me, that’s fine. As much as I won’t be put into a position of doing something I don’t want to do, I won’t put you into that position, either. I’ve been open about my partners, both human and a****l, including these two. So … I want to.”
What was the poor guy going to say? A smart guy says nothing more … Sam was a smart guy.
He was in shorts, too. I took over massaging his right knee and thigh, quickly working my hands up his thigh higher and higher. It was clear what I was interested in and it wasn’t massaging his thigh. My hand slipped inside his shorts leg opening and I worked it up higher. When I could see that wasn’t going to work, I pushed him back onto the cot and went to work removing his shorts. I then stripped his shirt over his head. For a middle aged man, he was in very good shape, especially considering how hard the past five years must have been while alone in this jungle. Five years alone and here I am, naked and having my way with him. I almost felt sorry for him. I smiled as I dropped my head to his lap, kissing his abdomen, around his penis, breathing on him, teasing him. His penis grew and moved as I used my lips everywhere but directly on his member. By the time I kissed the head of his penis, it was semi-hard and growing harder. I took it into my mouth and felt it grow as I sucked it, pushing down over it, then sucking as I pulled my mouth up, but never off it. Down and up, pushing down and sucking up.
He was hard quickly. I crawled up onto the cot with him, straddling his body, sliding my wet pussy over the length of his hard cock. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open, and his breathing came in gasps and sighs. I reached behind me, held his cock up, and slid my pussy over the head, lubricating the head and teasing him. I found my opening and sat down on top of his cock. No hesitation. No partial penetration, wait, and up and down. Just penetration and sinking down over his cock until my butt contacted his thighs. Then I waited. I looked down at him. When his eyes opened, I smiled down at him.
“God, Annie! I know it has been a long time, but … I never remembered it like this …” I smiled, again.
I leaned forward, pulling myself up his cock, but not off, until I could kiss him on the lips. I whispered into his ear, “I know it’s been a while, a long while, so this first time might be quick for you. No problem, honest. After, I’ll do something for you. You can watch me fuck the dog and cat. If that doesn’t make you hard, again, you’ll be dead. Then, you’ll last longer the next time.” I kissed him again and sat up, taking him deep inside me. He groaned. I knew he would be climaxing soon, very soon. I fucked him hard, his hands went to my waist as I rose and fell, his cock nearly pulling out and driving deep inside me. I tightened my muscles inside, gripping him with each rise up his length and he moaned. I dropped down hard, impaling myself on his cock and he groaned. Until I felt m twitch and jerk inside me; until I felt him harden more inside me; until I felt him spurt his seed inside me. I didn’t join him in cumming, but I didn’t need to. I had three more fucks planned for the evening.
I debated with myself about the coming order of these fucks. I knew Sam was going to be last, but did I take Wolf or Preta first? I remembered Preta’s cock with the barbs at orgasm. As excited as I was to mate with Preta outside the village, it was nothing like if I had mated with a dog before. Perhaps, the knot and all that cum inside me would make the experience with Preta a little less … sticky. Peculiar when you get cute in your own thoughts …
I went with Wolf and to no surprise to me, he was already well out of his sheath by the time I checked. I simply got on the ground of the hut and presented my ass to him. He wasted no time and I was waiting with my hand. I heard a gasp from the cot as Wolf jumped onto my back and immediately began humping at me. I turned toward Sam and gave him a sly smile. “Dog aren’t delicate …”
While I was tied to Wolf, I call Preta to me and coaxed more of his cock out of his sheath. I called Sam over but warned him to come slowly. I pointed at the a****l’s cock and I heard a muttered, “Oh … my … god … that goes inside you? Speaking of which, does it hurt to have that dog’s cock-ball inside you?” Despite what he might have thought of his experiences in the world, tonight was something he hadn’t planned on encountering when he decided to lose himself in the jungle.
I quickly turned when Wolf pulled out of me so Preta could mount me. He did so quickly, just like Wolf, and this time was indeed more rewarding for me. Not that I would let those spines keep me from mating with this cat, but not having it hurt every time was a plus. In my mind I made a mental note, Preta gets sloppy seconds.
And, Sam did last longer the second time. And, I did get my three orgasms. I also found myself sleeping contentedly in a man’s arms, again.
The next day was lazy and awkward. The awkwardness was broken by the decision to prepare to leave. We talked as we assembled and discarded items. I encouraged him to return to the world. He might have felt he didn’t have anything more to give to the world and he was better off without it. But, the jungle couldn’t kill him, even if he was sure it would, he fought too hard when it came down to the times that mattered. And, he still cared about life and people. He saved mine. He didn’t have to.
When we left his camp, he told me he would guide me to civilization. If he entered it with me or not would be his decision when we got there. That was all I could ask. It was his job to guide us. It was mine to get us through the jungle in one piece. But, I knew that I had Wolf and Preta as backup and, right now for this adventure, they would be more reliable and effective for the dangers we could encountered than anyone or thing I could think of.
The trek took us nine days, much longer than Sam predicted. The truth was, though, that he had never made the trek and was just guessing. At least he had the direction accurate. Part of the delay was a torrential rain that lasted half a day and flooded several rivers, requiring more effort to get across. When at last we crested a ridge above the tree line at near nightfall, we could make out man-made lighting in the distance. Then, we knew we were well inside Venezuela and only a half day or so from making a phone call that could finally get us out.
The trip was grueling and one of the single worst experiences of my life. Well, maybe short of being buried in the Arizona desert or falling out of an airplane over the Brazilian jungle. Despite the hardships, lack of food sometimes, and lack of peaceful sleep, the four of us were perfect travel companions. Even with his bad leg and obvious pain, Sam moved along with me and never resented when I took control of situations as his energy and will slipped away. Wolf and Preta … the two of them saved our lives several times in either intervention of danger or early warning so it could be avoided.
Now that civilization is finally in view, how do we get the assistance and aid that we need? And, how do we stay together? After everything we have been through together, how do I not lose Wolf and Preta?
* * * CHAPTER 13 will follow * * * Thanks for reading.
Sylvia was in a three truck convoy winding through the jungle just inside Venezuela. The trucks contained the a****ls she had acquired for the resort from the Guarani people. The trip had been long and was going to be still longer. She was in the middle truck of the three, a pickup that contained Thor, Wolf, and a goat. She was dozing as she sat in the passenger seat of the truck. The drive had been uncomfortable and she didn’t see that changing any time soon. The weather was hot and humid, exactly what the jungle was supposed to be.
The driver nudged her shoulder, respectfully. Sylvia wasn’t just an older woman, but a woman who clearly had the means and influence for such a trip to covertly get a****ls out of Brazil and into Venezuela. She straightened up, fussing with her hair absently, as if the way her hair might look in the jungle could be important.
“Is there a problem?”
“The dog, Senora.” He was pointing to the back of the truck.
She turned in her seat as the truck slowed to a stop. The driver honked to warn the truck ahead that they were stopping. Wolf was agitated. Wolf was tremendously agitated. As the truck slowed, Wolf jumped from the back, his head held high in the air, moving one way and then another. Sylvia swore quietly and scrambled out of the cab of the truck.
“Wolf! Come back here.” She looked at Thor in case he might be ready to do the same thing, but he seemed quiet. He was watching Wolf, but he seemed to be at peace with the world. Wolf came back to the truck, but he continued to keep his head high in the air, as if he were trying to determine a scent, a direction of a scent, or … something … whatever it was, it was very deliberate for him, but clearly it was only for him.
Wolf pranced back and forth, turning around the truck in pursuit of something only he knew what. Then he stopped about 20 feet behind the truck. He was facing southwest and he stood perfectly still. To Sylvia, it was eerie to see his concentration on nothing that was evident to anyone or anything else. The last thing Sylvia remembered about the event was Wolf stopping and turning to her. He then turned back to the same direction and released a long, piercing howl that sounded to her filled with pain and mournfulness. He then leapt into the jungle and disappeared. They called and searched, but they had to continue their trek if they were to reach their destination by nightfall. He was gone.
* * * *
The Guarani people left the river. It wasn’t as soon as the canoe disappeared around the bend. They couldn’t even have said why they delayed. They knew I was leaving. They knew I was gone. But, the black panther remained, so they remained, at least for a while. Slowly, a few at a time, then more together, they left the side of the river. But, the panther remained. When the last of the people had left and returned the short distance to the village, the panther still waited.
Later in the day, out of curiosity more than anything, several of the women returned to the river. The panther was still in the same location. He sat on his haunches, exactly as he had been, exactly where he had been. The women shared a look of concern and sadness for the a****l. They wanted to console the a****l, to take it in their arms for comfort, but they dared not. Not a wild panther. Instead, they hugged each other, unsure what else they could do. They were experienced with a****ls, all of them. They wouldn’t fool themselves, though. They weren’t Celina; they weren’t Annie. They left the a****l at the side of the river, but they shared the sadness and the loss that the a****l felt.
Later still, they returned again to the river. This time they brought water and food … in case. The panther, Annie called it Preta, was still there. He was curled on the ground, but rose when he heard them approach. They didn’t dare to approach too close, but left the food and water bowls where he could see them.
The next morning, they did the same thing, retrieving the bowls from the night before and replacing them with fresh food and water. They sat separate from the a****l for a time. They thought they were merely providing company, maybe comfort, in sharing time and space with the a****l. In truth, they were experiencing a similar, if not as profound, sense of emptiness and loss. How is it that someone enters their life as an intruder, an outsider, and becomes such an integral part of life in the villages? How does a bond become formed so quickly and so powerfully?
Sometime around high sun, they returned. This time not out of a pretense for providing food and water, this time because they wanted to share the time with the a****l. This time many more of the people join them. Later, this place would continue to be used as a place to remember, to reflect on what was and on what would be as a result because of that unique bond. Now, though, this gathering was to be marked by something else that would stay in the people’s memories.
As in other times, the people found the a****l sitting in the same location watching, sniffing the air, tilting its ears, in hopeful anticipation. As they all sat along the river this time, though, there was a change. The change was not in the river, the jungle, or the arrival of anyone or anything. At least, there was nothing that any of the people could discern. None the less, the panther sudden stood, prowled around the people in circles, sniffing the air, listening, peering, searching the river and jungle with its eyes. The people took this to mean something and their own anticipation and hopes rose despite knowing full well that the young woman had indeed left, not to return. When the a****l stopped roaming, prowling, and searching, the people watched intently for what would follow next. The what that came next surprised them all. The a****l stared intently across the river, but not at the shore. He seemed to be focused far into the jungle. Then, he jumped into the water, swam across to the other side, and disappeared into the jungle. They never found the a****l around the villages again.
* * * *
Moments of awareness. I sensed being back in one of the villages of the Guarani, the sounds of the jungle at night, the sounds of the jungle in the day, the sounds of someone moving quietly around me, the oppressive humid heat of mid-day, the coolness of the air when the rains came. But, only moments. Only fleeting moments. Never more than that. I wasn’t awake. I knew I wasn’t awake. And, I was only even aware for moments, but those fleeting moments were powerful. No, not awake. But all of that was good … all of that was wonderful … it meant I wasn’t dead.
* * * *
Awake. Was I? Or, was this just another moment? The sounds outside … I can identify them. The birds, the insects, the sound of chopping. Wood was being chopped. Fire. The crackling of a fire. Smells. Smoke, the smell of smoke. The fresh smell after a heavy rain. Feelings. Humidity. Heat in the air. Soreness in my body. Soreness, I haven’t been aware of that before. Different, this is different. Not fading, not disappearing into a void. Not fading. Staying. I still hear sounds, still smell.
Eyes? Darkness … no, faded light, filtered light, covered … covered! My eyes are covered! I try to speak … nothing happens. My throat is raspy, dry, and tight. I move my arms. Move the cover from my eyes. My arm hits something, it clatters to the floor. Wood on wood. A wooden floor. A shadow, someone coming …
“Easy … just lie still … easy, not too fast. Let your body adjust. You’re safe. Stay still.” The person, a man, moves away but returns, sitting next to me. I am on a cot? I think so, something raised off the floor. He is sitting on the edge now. He is raising my head.
“Some water … at your lips, feel it? Just sips, not too fast, not too much for now. There is plenty of water, take it slow.”
It hurts to swallow. Sips. Slow. He’s right. Each sip and swallow is easier, though. Each sip and swallow hurts less. I move my hand to my eyes. “Eyes.”
“Just a covering to keep it dark. And … let’s try taking it off …” He worked the tie at the back and I felt it coming off. I had my eyes closed. “Open your eyes … how is that?”
I open them, it is dark but I can see. I see him. He is rough looking, wild even. Long hair to his shoulders, crazy looking beard covering his face, ragged clothes covering a tanned body. “Good.” I flinch when I try to move my right leg.
“Yes, that will hurt. In fact, you should feel a lot of hurting over your body. Your leg was broken, the fibula, the smaller one in your calf. You wouldn’t know it now, don’t ask me how. But, it should be sore from lack of use as it healed.”
I was confused and disoriented. “How … where … who …?” I didn’t know which to focus on first.
He smiled at me and gently pushed me back onto my back on the cot. “You just came to … stay like that and I will tell you as much as I can. We’ll try to get some food into you. We’ll talk more …”
Everything was lucky according him, and hearing the story, I had to agree. He just happened to be at the river and the plane just happened to be going in the same direction as the river giving him a line of sight to follow the plane. If he had been anywhere else, he would have heard the plane but would never have seen it. Sighting the plane was unusual, but seeing something streak across the sky at the same time the plane banked sharply was more unusual. By the time he saw the second missile hit the tail of the plane, he was focused on it. Then, he saw the plane bank sharply back and forth and someone come out … me. I told him it was a trick on the pilot’s part to try to save me. He saw the parachute open. He moved in that direction, but that was made difficult by the jungle and his leg. He said he would explain that later.
He found me tangled in a tree. I was about 100 feet in the air. I didn’t look alive and he didn’t think I was, but he climbed up to where I was hanging from the chute, my arms still wrapped in the straps. He pulled me to him, check for a pulse and couldn’t find one. He was tempted to just cut the straps and let me fall, but that didn’t seem respectful, so he got some rope, tied it around my shoulders, and lowered me down, which turned into a chore because his rope wasn’t long enough. On the ground, he inspected me closer, but was most intent on whether I was alive. Again, he couldn’t find a pulse. He pinched me and got no reaction. He said he was ready to bury me there. I muttered, “Like that hasn’t happened before.” He asked me about that and this time I said later. He said he didn’t bury me because just then he noticed my eyes moving under my lids. Then a finger twitched. He checked my pulse, again. Nothing. But, he knew something was different. He used meditative techniques to quiet his body, then he found it. Very shallow, very weak, but regular. He brought me back to his camp on a travois he constructed.
Once settled into his camp, he inspected my body for injury. That was when he found my broken fibula, which he set and splinted. He cleaned cuts and abrasions. He did a crude job (his words) of suturing the deep cuts, all using items from his field kits. I was u*********s for about two weeks. Hearing that, I jerked back up, but he pressed me back down.
“I know … there are probably people worried about you. But, there is nothing we can do about that now. You’ve been here for the past two weeks because there was nowhere else to take you. You wanted to know where you are? You are in ‘nowhere’, literally, the middle of nowhere in the jungle.” I eased my head down and closed my eyes, tears streaming out of them at the thought of people wondering without knowing.
At that point, he went out and brought back some food and water. We ate, then talked some more. We introduced ourselves formally. His name was Sam James. Why he was in the middle of the jungle alone? Death by jungle. He recounted the concept of a felon not wanting to go back to jail, so he chooses ‘death by cop’. He runs at cops holding a gun. He’s shot with 30 bullets. Sure death. His approach was all that seemed available. He hesitated before telling his story, but over the next couple days as I recovered more strength, he told me all of it … maybe most of it.
He was a killer, but he didn’t like the word or the implication. He wasn’t a hired gun, at least not a general for-gun. He worked for governments, very secret, very selective. He and others in the group did the work that the courts couldn’t get done on an international scale. His targets were all bad people, very bad people. He didn’t question that they deserved to die for the good of the civilized world. What he developed a problem with was the number of times and some of the concepts, especially the concept of no witnesses left and no loose ends. He knew he was getting sloppy. Killing, he said, takes a bit of your good being with it each time. After a while, you wonder if you have good left in you. It is when you start thinking that way that things start going bad. The second to the last time, he was given a target, a man who was very bad indeed. He knew when, he knew where, and in his preparation, he knew how. He was supposed to have three body guards. He found the man where he was supposed to be. Three body guards, the man, but there was also a woman, dressed in slinky dress, very high heels, and expensive jewelry. An escort. He got through the guards as planned, then walked up to the man. The woman wasn’t supposed to be there, he hesitated. She also was a guard, she had a throwing knife in her cleavage. She put up a hand as if to indicate ‘no, please’ and the other to her chest as if in fear. The knife was coming before he knew it. He twisted in time for it to hit his arm. Then he shot them both. After that, he knew he should be trying to get out of the business. But, getting out is … difficult.
The last target was in Venezuela. A couple who were selling weapons grade material and the plans to build the bomb. Their travel was by car. Between towns he stopped them. The couple got out, he killed them. He checked the car and found an elderly woman caring for a boy of 10 years. He hesitated, again. It was just a boy and his nanny. He hesitated, the boy looking past him at the bodies of his parents. He focused on the boy’s face, the anguish shown there. He never saw the woman pull a gun and shoot him. She wasn’t good, hit him in the right knee. He did kill them both. But, he also knew he couldn’t do that anymore.
That was when he hired a pilot to fly him over this piece of jungle, parachuted out, and expected to die within a week. That was about five years ago. He found he couldn’t just lie down and die. The jungle had to beat him, but it apparently couldn’t. But, that was why he had the medical kits. They were his field kits on assignments. It wasn’t unusual for him to have to patch himself up after an assignment.
“Which reminds me”, he said, “the stitches I put in will probably leave some ugly scars. I’m good enough to survive, not have it look good.”
I smiled at him, looked down and thought about what he had shared over the days. “You saved my life. The scars will reinforce an interesting story.” I looked up into his face. “Thank you, by the way, for not burying me.” I then told him more of my story, leaving out the b********y parts. At least for the moment.
* * * *
My strength came back over more days. After about a week of being awake, I was trying out my leg and body more and more. I was now moving around the camp vicinity, helping out where I could. While cutting up some roots for inclusion in a stew, I remembered something he had said that first day I woke up.
“Sam, earlier you told me about my leg and then muttered something about ‘don’t ask me how’ when referring to the break in my fibula. What did you mean?”
“Look at you. You are walking around, putting weight on it. Annie, it should be a good six weeks for even a fracture to heal in that bone. I know. I’ve been there and I had the best care and medicine to help me with it. You … shoot, you … you were healed in … I don’t know, a little over a week and I couldn’t feel the break, anymore. Your other wounds, too. Annie, you healed like … like I have never seen before.”
“I … I don’t understand …” And, I didn’t. What did that mean? How could it even be possible? I didn’t heal that way before in the hospital after Jake dug me out of the ground. Why now? I found no answers, of course. I could feel him watching me. But, I had no answers for him. But, I also knew that I needed to leave here, to find a way to return to somewhere, call Sylvia or somebody.
“How do I get back, Sam?”
“Get back? Walk. I would guess it’s about … oh, a week in that direction.” He pointed roughly northeast.
“A week? Through that jungle?”
“That’s it. The only way, unless you can call a helicopter and someone crazy enough to try to land it around here.”
“What do I need to do to make that trek?”
“Two things: Me and much better shape. You are good, Annie, I’m not taking that away from you. But, I’m not.” He pointed to his right leg. “You’re going to have to help me and you are going to have to be the one to keep us alive. Almost everything out there might kill us if it wants to. You need to have the conditioning and the stamina for both of us. If there is danger, you need to be the one that confronts it. I can back you up, but I can’t move well enough to make the difference as the primary. I don’t think you are a fighter.” He looked at me seriously. “You have to be able to, if it is required.”
“Sam, I don’t think I can kill anything … man or a****l.”
“That’s fine, unless you have to. But, if it is your survival, my survival, then you have to.”
I swallowed hard. I have never even thought of such a thing. “How?”
He smiled. “I’ll show you. I’ll train you to move, to protect yourself, to deflect, to strike. I’ll show you all the way to beat someone, something, without striking a killing blow until you have to. If you can show the someone or something that you can’t be intimidated, they often leave on their own. Focus on that. Focus on becoming dominant so that something doesn’t want anything to do with you.” I nodded.
He told me to get lots of rest that night. The next day started the training. How I progressed would dictate when we could leave. I didn’t like the idea of being our main defensive on the trip out. But, I wasn’t spending the next five years there like he had.
* * * *
He devised a weird assortment of gimmicks to assist me in building up my stamina and strength. I had come to live in shorts, boots, and bra. It was primarily for cooling and freedom of movement. But, I had to admit that it was also amazing to look down and to see how my body was changing after only a couple days. He was training me in martial arts, bow and arrow (that he had made for hunting), kendo stick, and kali arnis stick fighting. He stressed they were more for developing reactions and instinct, seeing movement and reacting to it.
One day, I was practicing with the bow. I had an arrow strung and taking aim when he came up alongside me.
“Turn away. When I say, turn to the target and shoot, no hesitation, no aim. Use your technique, just do it quickly. React to the target.” I did as he said and still hit the target. “Trust in yourself, Annie. Your instincts and natural reactions are amazing.”
I saw him look past me, he took a step to me and spoke quietly. “At 4 o’clock, move slowly but have an arrow ready.”
I strung an arrow and turned slowly. By the time I was approaching 4 o’clock, I was ready to release the arrow. A black panther was crouched in a ready to pounce pose. I breathed out, ready to release the arrow when I looked closer. “No, it can’t be.” I muttered it out loud. I watched the a****l, looking down the length of the arrow. It couldn’t be … could it? He rose out of his crouch and sat back. I smiled, dropped the bow to the ground, and to the utter shock of Sam, I rushed headlong into the panther. I embraced Preta and he licked me. When I released him from my embrace, he lay on the ground and offered his belly for rubbing.
Sam started coming close, but Preta gave him a warning growl. “You’re going to tell me you know this a****l?”
I laughed, “Sam, meet Preta. I helped him like you helped me. So, yeah, were close.”
Sam was just getting over that news when there was a low growl from the other side of the camp. A black wolf. Poor Sam, who ever heard of a black wolf or any wolf in the jungle.
“Wolf! You, too?” I rushed over to hug him and received his licks as well. Now, though, the two a****ls showed indications of territorial threats. I had to get firm with both of them, much to the disapproval of Sam, for them to quiet and accept each other. My affection for both of them, though, allowed their trust through me.
Sam was withdrawn and quiet the rest of the day as I spent most of it with Preta and Wolf, getting them familiar with each other and still not believing that they somehow found their way to me. When he finally came to me, he was hesitant.
“Annie, I don’t think I can begin to understand anything about you. The way your body heals, the way you have become stronger, quicker, your instincts and reaction are crisp and precise. That would have been confusing enough, but now these a****ls?”
“Sam, you’re right. You trusted me enough to share your difficult story. I need to share mine, now. But, funny … for me, you have heard the ugly part when I was abused and buried. The rest that I need to share is good. Deviant, but good.” I explained about the ranch, the trip to the resort, the offer to work with Sylvia and the resort and the trip to get the a****ls from the Guarani people, which brought me to the jungle and where we were.
He looked at me and the a****ls as I told the story. “Your tattoos … when I was inspecting your body for injuries … I saw the tattoos on your breast. I heard about the tattoos and the Guarani, but … frankly, few people believe it. It’s all true, then?” I nodded. “So, it is true that they worship someone called See-leen-a who mates with a****ls. And, the panther tattoo is …”
“Yes, but it is not a worshiping. They think of her as a guide, a teacher, but definitely not a deity. And, yes, this tattoo is Preta. The Guarani created it for me. It had never been done.” I was blushing. I was blushing partially because I had just shared such intimacies. I was also blushing because sharing those intimacies opened a door that we hadn’t considered opening before.
The days that followed were similar to the days before, filled with training and preparation. But, there were now two very capable males prepared to defend me and that relieved a lot of pressure and tension from the idea of attempting our escape from this place. There was something else different. There was a definite tension building between me and the three males in the camp. The tension wasn’t about what or if I wanted to do with each of the males. The tension was how to approach Sam about it so the situation would be comfortable … for him. And, like most things, the direct and open options is usually the best.
After a full day of activity, Sam’s knee often was achy and stiff by nightfall. Guiding me through my training, although focused on me, was still active for him, more active than he would normally want his knee to be. So, like most all the night of the past days, I found him in the hut. He had taken the natural concoction of herbs that the Guarani showed me would relieve pain and swelling, herbs that appeared to be in natural abundance. He was massaging his knee and thigh when I entered the hut. The pain and soreness migrated from his knee into the thigh muscles during the day as he u*********sly attempted to compensate.
I entered the hut barefoot, the a****ls following me. Now that they had found me, they were rarely more than ten feet from me. I pointed to the floor and they both found a spot to settle down. It had surprised me how much Preta was picking up from watching Wolf in terms of training and commands. Although more independently minded, like all cats, he generally followed the same commands.
I stopped just inside the hut looking at Sam quietly. He felt the silence and expectation, stopped his massaging and looked up at me. I smiled shyly at him in the light of the two candles burning inside the hut for light in the dusk of evening.
“Sam … I want to thank you. Truly thank you.” I reached behind my back and unhook my bra that was showing the wear of constant use as an outer garment. “I want to thank you for rescuing me, saving me. I want to thank you for caring for me, watching over me and taking care of me when I couldn’t. I want to thank you for training me and preparing me for what I need to anticipate, if we are to walk out of the jungle.” I was now unsnapping my shorts and pushing them down my legs. I had long since gone commando. He was watching me closely. For all the time lately since coming to the jungle, nudity was taken for granted. It wasn’t with him. I saw myself differently as I stood before him. After all this time, my pubic and arm pits hair had grown back.
He saw me watching him. He felt the silence. “Annie … I … you don’t have to …”
I put up my hands to effectively stop him. “Something you need to understand about me, Sam. If there was any sense that I had to do this, should do this, or any reason other than that it was what I wanted to do, it probably wouldn’t be happening.” I looked at him in seriousness. “If you don’t want me, that’s fine. As much as I won’t be put into a position of doing something I don’t want to do, I won’t put you into that position, either. I’ve been open about my partners, both human and a****l, including these two. So … I want to.”
What was the poor guy going to say? A smart guy says nothing more … Sam was a smart guy.
He was in shorts, too. I took over massaging his right knee and thigh, quickly working my hands up his thigh higher and higher. It was clear what I was interested in and it wasn’t massaging his thigh. My hand slipped inside his shorts leg opening and I worked it up higher. When I could see that wasn’t going to work, I pushed him back onto the cot and went to work removing his shorts. I then stripped his shirt over his head. For a middle aged man, he was in very good shape, especially considering how hard the past five years must have been while alone in this jungle. Five years alone and here I am, naked and having my way with him. I almost felt sorry for him. I smiled as I dropped my head to his lap, kissing his abdomen, around his penis, breathing on him, teasing him. His penis grew and moved as I used my lips everywhere but directly on his member. By the time I kissed the head of his penis, it was semi-hard and growing harder. I took it into my mouth and felt it grow as I sucked it, pushing down over it, then sucking as I pulled my mouth up, but never off it. Down and up, pushing down and sucking up.
He was hard quickly. I crawled up onto the cot with him, straddling his body, sliding my wet pussy over the length of his hard cock. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open, and his breathing came in gasps and sighs. I reached behind me, held his cock up, and slid my pussy over the head, lubricating the head and teasing him. I found my opening and sat down on top of his cock. No hesitation. No partial penetration, wait, and up and down. Just penetration and sinking down over his cock until my butt contacted his thighs. Then I waited. I looked down at him. When his eyes opened, I smiled down at him.
“God, Annie! I know it has been a long time, but … I never remembered it like this …” I smiled, again.
I leaned forward, pulling myself up his cock, but not off, until I could kiss him on the lips. I whispered into his ear, “I know it’s been a while, a long while, so this first time might be quick for you. No problem, honest. After, I’ll do something for you. You can watch me fuck the dog and cat. If that doesn’t make you hard, again, you’ll be dead. Then, you’ll last longer the next time.” I kissed him again and sat up, taking him deep inside me. He groaned. I knew he would be climaxing soon, very soon. I fucked him hard, his hands went to my waist as I rose and fell, his cock nearly pulling out and driving deep inside me. I tightened my muscles inside, gripping him with each rise up his length and he moaned. I dropped down hard, impaling myself on his cock and he groaned. Until I felt m twitch and jerk inside me; until I felt him harden more inside me; until I felt him spurt his seed inside me. I didn’t join him in cumming, but I didn’t need to. I had three more fucks planned for the evening.
I debated with myself about the coming order of these fucks. I knew Sam was going to be last, but did I take Wolf or Preta first? I remembered Preta’s cock with the barbs at orgasm. As excited as I was to mate with Preta outside the village, it was nothing like if I had mated with a dog before. Perhaps, the knot and all that cum inside me would make the experience with Preta a little less … sticky. Peculiar when you get cute in your own thoughts …
I went with Wolf and to no surprise to me, he was already well out of his sheath by the time I checked. I simply got on the ground of the hut and presented my ass to him. He wasted no time and I was waiting with my hand. I heard a gasp from the cot as Wolf jumped onto my back and immediately began humping at me. I turned toward Sam and gave him a sly smile. “Dog aren’t delicate …”
While I was tied to Wolf, I call Preta to me and coaxed more of his cock out of his sheath. I called Sam over but warned him to come slowly. I pointed at the a****l’s cock and I heard a muttered, “Oh … my … god … that goes inside you? Speaking of which, does it hurt to have that dog’s cock-ball inside you?” Despite what he might have thought of his experiences in the world, tonight was something he hadn’t planned on encountering when he decided to lose himself in the jungle.
I quickly turned when Wolf pulled out of me so Preta could mount me. He did so quickly, just like Wolf, and this time was indeed more rewarding for me. Not that I would let those spines keep me from mating with this cat, but not having it hurt every time was a plus. In my mind I made a mental note, Preta gets sloppy seconds.
And, Sam did last longer the second time. And, I did get my three orgasms. I also found myself sleeping contentedly in a man’s arms, again.
The next day was lazy and awkward. The awkwardness was broken by the decision to prepare to leave. We talked as we assembled and discarded items. I encouraged him to return to the world. He might have felt he didn’t have anything more to give to the world and he was better off without it. But, the jungle couldn’t kill him, even if he was sure it would, he fought too hard when it came down to the times that mattered. And, he still cared about life and people. He saved mine. He didn’t have to.
When we left his camp, he told me he would guide me to civilization. If he entered it with me or not would be his decision when we got there. That was all I could ask. It was his job to guide us. It was mine to get us through the jungle in one piece. But, I knew that I had Wolf and Preta as backup and, right now for this adventure, they would be more reliable and effective for the dangers we could encountered than anyone or thing I could think of.
The trek took us nine days, much longer than Sam predicted. The truth was, though, that he had never made the trek and was just guessing. At least he had the direction accurate. Part of the delay was a torrential rain that lasted half a day and flooded several rivers, requiring more effort to get across. When at last we crested a ridge above the tree line at near nightfall, we could make out man-made lighting in the distance. Then, we knew we were well inside Venezuela and only a half day or so from making a phone call that could finally get us out.
The trip was grueling and one of the single worst experiences of my life. Well, maybe short of being buried in the Arizona desert or falling out of an airplane over the Brazilian jungle. Despite the hardships, lack of food sometimes, and lack of peaceful sleep, the four of us were perfect travel companions. Even with his bad leg and obvious pain, Sam moved along with me and never resented when I took control of situations as his energy and will slipped away. Wolf and Preta … the two of them saved our lives several times in either intervention of danger or early warning so it could be avoided.
Now that civilization is finally in view, how do we get the assistance and aid that we need? And, how do we stay together? After everything we have been through together, how do I not lose Wolf and Preta?
* * * CHAPTER 13 will follow * * * Thanks for reading.
Angelica
- 04.11.2022
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