A Night in the Jungle

I emerged from the river sleek as an otter, my wet body glinting in the late afternoon sun. My hair was plastered to my head and shoulders, water-diamonds dripping from my bosom and the neat, dark triangle between my thighs. I swung my hips wantonly as I waded toward the riverbank, knowing my husband was watching me from behind the trees. This was the spot our Indian friends had “given” us as a private place for bathing and being alone. The river and the jungle were safe here, and we had spent many happy hours playing together in the clear water and drying ourselves on the flat rock jutting out into the river’s bend. Lying nude under the tropical sun had bronzed us nicely, and my husband’s tanned face and body made him even more handsome. As we would lie together I would often caress his hard butt, slipping my finger into the deep cleft between his muscled cheeks, stroking the small of his back with my nails. It made us both wild, and we would usually end up having sex either on the rock or in the river. Today he said he couldn’t come with me, but I was sure he was lurking just past the line of trees, watching me.

I reached up and lifted my hair above my head, wringing the water from it, knowing this would thrust my breasts provocatively upward. As the water from my hair poured over my body, I ran my hands over my skin, letting them linger on my breasts and my flat stomach, then sliding them around my waist and down my hips, arching my back and letting my head fall backward toward the setting sun. I was teasing him, but I wanted him to think I didn’t know he was there. I turned my back to him and leaned over, feet spread apart, to rinse my hands unnecessarily in the river. I knew the sight of my back and the glimpse of my dripping vulva would make him wild.

Wrapping myself in a meter of saffron yellow cotton we had brought for the Indians, I walked back to our thatched hut with the light fabric clinging to my damp skin. Once inside, I quickly dried off and walked naked to the suitcase in the corner. The light was dim, but it was sufficient for me to see the assorted contents of the case as I stood over it. It was full of gifts the Indians had given us-—small baskets, bone combs, necklaces made from dyed seeds and animal teeth, some feather headdresses, and a beautiful traditional beaded apron the size of a legal pad.

Knowing he would be coming to the hut very soon, I selected a headdress, a necklace and the apron and laid it on the table. I brushed my hair, letting it hang loose, and slid the headdress onto my head. The ring of bright red and yellow parrot feathers circled my brow, contrasting with my black hair, and another small cluster of feathers at the end of a crimson thread hung at the middle of my back. I put on the necklace. It was too short, so I selected a longer one. This one was perfect-—the seed-and-tooth pendant, simple but lovely, hung directly between my breasts and would draw his eyes to their silken fullness. I fondled them, lifting their weight in my palms and brushing my thumbs over my nipples until they responded. I take great pleasure in my breasts-—they are exquisite, if I may say so—-and I longed to feel his hands and mouth on them, coaxing them until they were near to bursting with lust, skin taut across swollen flesh, nipples hard as stones and dark with desire. I knew he would like the necklace.

The apron came last. I draped it across my loins and tied the leather thong at my back. The weight of the beads caused the apron to sag in the front, which pleased me. It hung below my belly in a provocative U-shape that came nearly to the top of my carefully manicured bush, and covered the fronts of my upper thighs. The warmth of the humid jungle air on my skin excited me, and I tingled with anticipation as I walked to my hammock.

The mosquito netting had been drawn aside for the day, and I pulled it back over the hammock so it would provide a gauze screen behind which I could entice my husband. I sprawled in the hammock in a half-sitting position, leaving one foot on the floor. I pulled my other knee up to my side and opened my thighs wide. The apron slipped between them, still covering my vulva but baring my legs completely. Slipping my fingers behind the apron’s top edge, I rested my hand in my groin. I was aroused and impatient, and I allowed my fingertips to touch the edges of my labia. They were already becoming slick with my yearning, and I hoped my lover would come to me quickly. I lay in the encroaching darkness and stared through the gauze at the intricate pattern of the hut’s palm frond roof, enjoying the feel of the woven hammock against my body, supporting me as if I were a tiny infant in her father’s hands.

Some monkeys screamed in the trees nearby, and something small scampered under the hut’s floor. I felt very much a part of the creation, like Eve must have felt as she waited for Adam to come in from the fields at the end of the day, lying in the fading light longing to join her body and soul with his, almost giggling with anticipation of the effect the sight of her perfect form would have when he saw her.

I heard his footsteps, and my heart raced. He came into the hut quietly, placing his hat and knife on the crude table in the corner. His hazel eyes looked bright in his tanned face, and he stared at me with surprise and pleasure. I began to fondle myself again, and watching my fingers moving under beads but not being able to see them seemed to captivate him. We were both aroused, and he sensed it was time to come to me. Deftly, he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He unclasped his sandals and then stood to face me again. His body was beautiful—lean and strong and well proportioned. His khaki shorts came only to his upper thighs, and the sight of his hard stomach, his nipples and his powerful legs caused me to think very lustful thoughts. A stream of images passed quickly through my memory as I gazed at him-—images of bare skin slippery with sweat; of fingers groping inside damp lace panties; of my bare breasts bobbing and heaving as I rode him; of his throbbing manhood in my hands; thick and hot, its head topped with a dew drop of desire; of his face buried between my splayed thighs.

I started back to reality as the netting was pulled aside. He gasped when he saw me, a sound of both surprise and longing. Leaning over, he kissed me tenderly on the tip of my nose. Pulling my hand from between my legs, he kissed my palm and then put the tip of my index finger, sticky with my growing passion, into his mouth and sucked. I shivered, and he smiled crookedly as he leaned over again and gently, teasingly licked the aching tip of my breast. He ran his finger along the line of the necklace, into my deep, moist cleavage. His touch felt like fire, and my stomach began to flutter.

He threw a muscled leg over the hammock to straddle it, then leaned over slightly and kneaded my bosom with his strong hands. His practiced touch made me wild with wanting him, and my nipples responded by growing plump and erect. The sight of my breasts when I am aroused even excites me, so I can imagine what he was thinking.

I purred with delight, letting my body yield to his fingers as they explored my sides and brushed my belly along the top edge of the apron. When he touched me there my back arched involuntarily, enflaming him even further. In the dim light, I could see the bulge of his erection against his shorts, and I wanted to have his penis in my hands, in my mouth, in my aching vulva. I slid my hand along his thigh and reached under the shorts where they were stretched tight across his groin. He wasn’t wearing underwear, as I’d suspected, and I lightly touched stroked his manhood under the shorts, delighting in the feel of its incredibly thin, soft skin and the bulging veins throbbing with vigor and passion.

I unsnapped the waistband and pulled the fly down carefully. His massive, twitching member sprang out like a jack-in-the-box when I pulled his shorts down around his hips. I sat up in the hammock and pressed my body against him, pushing my breasts together around his penis, letting him thrust gently as if to prepare for entering my body. The combination of friction from my necklace and the slippery softness of my bosom made him even harder. He pressed my breast together around himself then, and his eyes closed with the ecstasy of the sensations rushing though his body. I gripped his butt and dug my nails into their flesh, pulling him as close to me as I could. I kissed his stomach as he pressed himself against me, circling his navel with my tongue and gently nibbling at his skin.

His presence between my breasts was just too distracting. I licked the bead of moisture from the tip of his manhood, then took the head into my mouth and sucked hard, rolling my tongue around the engorged flesh and then licking his shaft with long, wet strokes. I was squirming and moaning now, nearly mad with anticipation, and as he took my head in his hands and pulled it closer, I knew he was as excited as I was.

He lay back on the hammock and put his feet in the air. I pulled his shorts off, and then drew myself up so I could put my legs over his. He could still reach my stomach and my breasts, and he made little circles around my navel with his finger, then did the same with my areolas, which were now dark and engorged and standing out from my breasts, pillowing my hard nipples in a way they had never done before. I was beginning to think he would give me a climax just by loving my breasts, and I would have loved that except that I wanted to feel him inside me and I wanted us to ride this wave together.

I wriggled against him, and he slid his hands under the apron and bared my sex. My body was hungry and ready to receive him; this foreplay was such sweet agony. The outer lips of my vulva were thick and slippery with my lust, and the inner lips had burst out and unfurled like the petals of an exotic flower, gaping and eager. When he put his hands under my legs and lifted them high, leaning over me to flick his tongue against my clitoris, it strained against its gossamer sheath and I whimpered with the piercing pleasure of having my man love me this way.

He pleasured me with light strokes of his tongue, and nipped playfully at my labia and pulled the hair on my Mount with his teeth. I had shaved carefully, and the skin around the narrow black triangle was deliciously smooth. He tasted the salty perspiration between my raised legs, and then plunged his tongue into my vagina. Lapping noisily, hungrily, he drank my passion and breathed deeply as its pungency filled the air around us. I felt as if my body was weeping with joy and he was drinking its tears. Some birds called in the dusk, and my desire was further piqued. I felt primal and sensuous, fragile as a gazelle and powerful as a lioness. At this moment, the jungle was an incredibly erotic place.

He was gazing at me from between my thighs, and I realized I was caressing my breasts without even knowing it. I kneaded them rhythmically, their tips protruding from between my spread fingers, the necklace rising and falling like a buoy in a wind-tossed lake as I squeezed and stroked my aching bosom. Seeing me do this put him over the top, and we both knew we could wait no longer. I was breathing heavily, groaning as if in pain, and his chest was heaving with the exertion of his passion.

He pulled one of my legs over his shoulder and placed it next to the other. Reading the intent of his motions, I swung my body around in the hammock until my back was to him. I leaned forward, bunching the woven cotton between my breasts, and grasped the hammock up near where it was lashed to the crossbeam of the hut. Sliding my body backward, I sat on his lap and hooked my feet around his calves. He loves to feel my smooth butt against him and see its perfect roundness when my back is arched and my legs spread wide. He reached between my thighs and put his fingers into my vulva to help me get ready for him, but it was unnecessary. I was more ready than I’d ever been. My flesh made wet sucking noises around his fingers-—he jokingly refers to them as “kitty kisses”—-and the scent of my arousal pervaded our little love nest.

Wriggling to get into position, he entered me. I was dripping, so his penis slid easily into my body. I felt massive, and the sensation of his hot firmness against the velvety walls of my vagina was overwhelming in its intensity. I cried out, and immediately began to drive my rump against his belly, meeting his rhythmic upward thrusts by pumping the hammock with my arms and pulling against his legs with my feet. My little beaded apron swung wildly against my thighs, but I barely noticed. He put his hands first on my hips, to pull me against him as tightly as he could, then reached around and cupped my breasts in his hands, pressing them against my chest, kneading their swollen tautness, rolling my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

We came very quickly, though it all seemed to happen in slow motion. It was the most astonishingly intense orgasm we have ever had, and we gasped and went limp when the waves of pleasure finally subsided. Our bodies were glossy with perspiration and our panting and moaning was as much an exclamation of delighted wonder as it was the result of our exertion.

I lay back against him as his penis began to shrink and slide out of me. I brought my legs up into the hammock and folded them between his, and he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. He took off my headdress and laid it gently on the floor, then, as I leaned forward, untied the apron and put it next to the headdress. Finally, he lifted the necklace over my head and placed it carefully on the apron. Sated now, I lay in his arms, nude and warm and contented. He kissed my hair and my shoulders, and his hands still wandered over my thighs and belly and breasts as he gently, lovingly, caressed me to sleep.

When I awoke in the middle of the night, he was still in my hammock. He had pulled a light blanket over both of us, and when I reached over to touch him in the darkness I discovered that he was still naked as well. I caressed him, enjoying the feel of his warm skin, and let my fingers slide to his groin. His penis was not flaccid, as I had expected, and it thickened and grew hard even as I stroked it. Wrapping my fingers around the shaft, I pumped it slowly, gently, amazed at the way his body responded so quickly to my touch. He stirred, and just when I regretted that I had awakened him, he plunged his head under the blanket and took one of my breasts in his mouth.

We slept very little for the rest of the night. Our hammock rocked with our writhing and thrashing and the sounds of our pleasure blended with the night music of the jungle. Just after sunrise, we walked naked down the narrow path to our secret place at the river, and slipped silently into the cool water to wash and kiss and prepare for a new day.

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