Scanning Proofreading: CSH
When Sidney, the stoic, intrepid reporter, accepts the assignment to go on an expedition to the Amazon River, she finds that the long-planned exploration is going well. But the photographer always seems to arouse suspicion, and the handsome, dashing field scientist often seems unusually moody and annoyed. Sidney soon realizes that this is actually a hidden expedition to find a lost Inca city. Everyone was acting so strangely, so sexually charged, and the humidity of the tropical jungle was growing stronger, as if an ancient and mysterious force was working its magic on the expedition. Everywhere, ancient voices echoed in this Indiana Jones experience of desire and adventure, and the jungle brought both danger and delight to Sidney.
Chapter 1
I slogged into the office like a sluggish and obscure English summer. Charley said by name when should I prepare for my resignation party? When I turned my back on him and was about to snap, he told me Mike wanted to see me.
Mike is the managing editor. Fat, deep and energetic.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and walked into his office.
“You’re late,” he huffed, looking at me.
I’m just an employee, and it’s the only thing that doesn’t make me deeply uncomfortable for pissing people off. “I’m late, boss,” I said, raising my voice, “because last night I took my camera to a party and photographed a real gorilla. Then one of my girlfriends stopped me at the corner and asked why her husband could never understand her. The gorilla was being photographed by other people miles away and I was going crazy, so I drank too much and fell asleep, which is why I was late.” I poured some coffee down my throat.
“That’s heartening, Sidney,” Mike said in a kinder tone. He liked my abruptness.
I like my name. It’s rare for a woman to have one. My parents never complained about not having a boy, they just wanted me to have a place in the world.
I smiled through my teeth, now unable to connect with and dazzle them on earth.
Mike stammered a little. “I have arranged a job for you,” he said.
Charley’s voice came from behind him. “Shut up, kid,” I said squarely. “Don’t.”
“You haven’t listened.” He was patient.
“I am fully equipped with the sensitivities of a journalist,” I said. “Knowing when you’re going to get fired.”
“A lot of people are hungry for this opportunity,” whispered Mike. He’s mastered the true art of conversation, and that’s exactly why we can only make money writing for newspapers. Mike reserved his veto, knowing full well he couldn’t write.
“Then let them do it.” I said slowly.
“I’m appointing you, Sidney, there’s no choice.”
“I’m so scared oh,” I squeaked.
“Carl is recuperating.”
“Train station?”
I leaned back in my chair. “Ouch, yeah? Why? Rabies? He should stop rattling those weird dogs.”
“Don’t tell it, Sidney,” Mike tried to stifle his laughter. “It’s not a joke.”
“You’re lying.”
“I didn’t. The guy had a bad fall, he broke several ribs.”
“At best, I’ll write a story,” I reassured.
“Damn it. It’s only reported if a kid falls off, a contributor falling off doesn’t bother anyone, they think it’s embarrassing.”
Mike is absolutely right that journalists report on things that happen to other people and have nothing to do with themselves.
“I don’t understand,” I said carefully, “why Carl had to find me when he was admitted to the hospital.
“Carl specialized in writing travelogues and adventures, and he traveled around the world. For me, travel and adventure were a disaster.
“We’ve booked him a seat, Sidney, and besides the tickets are so expensive we can’t refund them.”
“Hm! Not really,” I preached with deep skepticism.
“It will be at least a couple of weeks until he’s fully recovered, and the practical problem now is that someone has to go right away.”
“Then don’t send me, boss, and don’t forget I’m a columnist.”
Mike leaned over toward me. “Every newspaper is grabbing this story, so we’ve got to handle this differently.”
I stared at him with wide eyes. “Do I need to take notes?” I asked, purposely holding my breath. He spoke to me as if it was my first day on the job today.
“Carl would have been able to accomplish this task with a different perspective,” Mike said. He had very little patience left, while my senses were getting groovy. “Carl is a versatile, creative, brave and fearless writer.”
“Yes, and his unique concept of spending.” The legendary nature of Carl’s spending in the office is what makes him so unpopular. Whenever he returned from his travels, he brought back a number of particularly compelling stories that forced us to reformat them. Carl upset all of us, and the manager was therefore able to tolerate him, as Mike had just said, because he was a very talented and creative writer. He was also, as I recall, a geek, and behaved in an obscene manner, as everyone knew him to be.
“We could have presented the state of affairs around us,” Mike said. “But that would just be a mediocre story no different than anyone else’s, so we had a meeting and agreed to avoid that and make sure we came up with an insight that stood out.”
“Mike, I love you.” I said, “But I make my money writing articles, just as I can’t diagnose a woman in her forties as healthy because I don’t know for sure that she’s past menopause and should be on hormone replacement therapy.”
“Really?” Mike asked as he shifted his attention, and I guessed that his wife must be in some trouble these days.
“Read more of your editor-in-chief’s paper.” I grumbled mischievously.
He recovered. “Sidney,” he said. “You have to go, understand? There’s no choice. Surely traveling excites you, yes?”
At the moment my stomach lurched. “Is it going to be Africa?” I asked. “Those places never stop having civil wars and there are starving children everywhere. I can’t do this job, Mike I really can’t, I’m quitting.”
“Not to Africa.”
“That would be to a Soviet Republic where all the people think women should wear veils and can’t drive, or which has disintegrated. I’m still going to resign, with the same determination.”
“Don’t be so stupid. That’s one of the most beautiful places on Earth, and it’s pretty sparsely populated.”
“Antarctica,” I moaned sadly. “It’s full of penguins and snow and scientists. I’m sure the penguins will be very affectionate.”
“Stop talking, Sidney.”
“Thank God there’s already a woman climbing Everest and there’s going into space.” I chimed in, my insides bouncing with fear.
“You’re hysterical,” Mike spoke coldly.
“So this job isn’t for me at all,” I said with an imperceptible hint of wryness, snickering in the background.
“You’re catching a plane to Miami tomorrow,” he said to himself, not even taking my words.
I couldn’t help but open my mouth. “Miami? Sparsely populated? I knew there was a high murder rate there, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad.”
“You don’t need to leave the airport, and in fact you can’t, because there’s only two hours before your connecting flight.”
“Turnaround?” My voice was slurred.
“Go to Belen.”
“Bethlehem? Acting as a religious messenger.”
“It’s Belém, Brazil. You can take an early flight from Belém to Manaus and take a boat there.”
“Boat?”
“The boat to the Amazon.” Mike was amiable again, leaning back to smile at me. “Go see the rainforest, Sidney, before you jump to conclusions about your first impression, and don’t think about the tally sheets, we’ve stored them all in the filing cabinet. We want your impression, a layman’s view. If we send an environmentalist, they’ll be overly emotional. And there, we need someone with strong convictions.”
I hated the insult of being treated like a commoner, and I ignored it. “Mike,” I said hoarsely, “there are all kinds of insects everywhere.”
“We have bugs here too.”
“Not the same,” I dismissed flatly. What an amiable bastard. “I mean flies. Flies that fly around while people are eating, like bombers in World War II. They bite all over the place and pass on germs, but those germs would be of interest to scientists, since no cure has yet been found.”
“You can wear camouflage.”
“I don’t like the jungle.” I whispered quietly as if it was a mega secret.
“That’s exactly why we want you to go, you’ll have a whole new perspective. Frankly, we would have preferred Carl to go, but don’t mind starting over on you and getting a fresh perspective.”
“Then my main job will be logging.” I said hopelessly. “I’m going to cut down soft branches in the forest, pile them up on the side of the road to make a house with a door and windows, and then put up a neon sign on the roof that flashes ‘Pizza House’.”
“Very good,” Mike said with a wry smile.
“I like gold too,” I said, “and I hear those gold miners are really nasty.”
“Write what you like,” Mike said with a false sense of humor. “We’ll definitely print it.
”
“No,” I said in agonized succession. “No, no, no.”
“They’re taking bets on you in the office on whether you’ll leave the paper or do what you’re told.”
“If I leave, who will be in charge of the book?” I held Mike’s gaze with mine.
“Claire. Interestingly she has offered herself grossly to take your place once you resign.
”
Clara the cow, I’ll call her on that, how dare she try to take my job.
“Sidney,” it was clear he understood I had conceded defeat. “Write it out with a bang, quickly, and keenly. We’ll be proud of you, maybe a couple of big, informative articles. Just like your bonus.”
“What about news pictures,” I asked eagerly. “I have no photographic equipment.”
“It’s all set; Carl arranged everything. A fellow has arrived in Brazil and will accompany you on your journey, which, by the way, is an examination in a private capacity. Apparently the man is not a newspaper editor, but Carl says he is a good man, and I think he made his acquaintance on the way back. And I guess he was the one who knew the rich woman who paid all the expenses of the trip. You’d be just in time to write a book while you’re at it,” Mike added offhandedly. “We wouldn’t mind. We could serialize it.”
“You’re a liar.” It was really angry.
“Do you dare risk it?” He smiled pleasantly. “Go organize your desk, Sidney, and Jenny will give you all the materials. Use your free time to go shopping for some clothes and to get a few vaccinations. Remember to make sure you fill the time for the anti-dysentery pills earlier.”
I set aside some time to visit Carl. As much as I didn’t like him, I wasn’t so callous that I couldn’t feel sorry for someone who looked like he’d escaped from a horror movie. He was tied up and hanging, with bandages on every part of his body.
“They sent me to that place of yours,” I said quietly, while wondering if he could hear me through the bandages, “do you want me to go?”
His jaw was held in place by metal wires. I stared hoping to get a good look at his face. “One blink for yes, two for no,” I offered.
He blinked twice.
I left an hour to say goodbye to my neighbor Tyrone, who lives in the dimly lit basement below me. A friend, a very close friend.
Our relationship is simple, based purely on sex (not the kind of sex that some have called “the pure thing”), and when that craving fills our hearts and there is no one else around who can quickly quench it, then we can comfort and quench each other’s cravings.
Take this scenario for example: I watched a TV one night and, as you have experienced, was alone, chewing on crispy chocolate and binge drinking a bottle of wine or two. You’d be Johnny Depp, Dennis Depp. Depp, Dennis. Quaid, Nicholas. Cagey or Richard Searle. Searle, having fun with the passionate and sexy women on the screen. I then imagined the women on TV as myself, and with that came the feeling of hunger, you know what I mean, your manhood is getting restless, that soft thing is becoming noticeable. Immediately after that I knocked three times on the floor with my own slipper, and if Tyrone had been in the house and had been helpful, he would have quickly climbed up those dimly lit steps.
Sometimes he would show up even when not invited in order to address his own physical needs. Again I had to commit myself to him, and it didn’t take long for his stiff manhood, pulled out of his jeans, to go from arousal to a state of contentment.
Sometimes, to save time, he would remove my tights and panties and lean me against the door, thrusting his cock upward into me while holding me up and sinking deep into my stretched, snow-white twat. Tyrone had a toned body and every other day he worked out at a gym two blocks over. He often chose different positions. I loved being in that position (with him), watching each sexual maneuver intently, seeing it as a magical personal gift from a true friend. His manhood, like every other muscle in his firm black body, was thick and controlled and never let me down.
I bundled up my bags and knocked on the door of his room before leaving the place for South America, my teasing smile a clear, purposeful signal. He was naked except for a pair of short underwear with white dots on a blue background. His muscles were quite awesome, and his hair, which was as horrible as a snake-haired banshee’s, was piled in a mess on his head and shoulders.
He raised one eyebrow when he glanced at the luggage, “Hey Sidney, I don’t mind serving you like a good neighbor. But now I’m really sorry that you don’t want to move. Don’t ever move. That house would surely be rented out if it were vacant, which of course it should be, dear, you can understand all that.”
“I’m clueless,” I sniffled in mock sadness. “I don’t think this house is going to be of much use from now on, I’m going to take an early flight out of Hanslo and head into the Amazon for some exploratory research and hopefully forget about you. But for old times’ sake, let’s start with a little game, shall we?”
“To realize that disassociating myself from you all of a sudden simply caught me off guard.” He dragged my bags through the door and kicked it shut behind me.
My skirt was both short and tight. Hands slowly wormed their way upward, undoing the four buttons on the front of the short, loose-fitting traveling shirt from top to bottom.
He was lying flat on his back under a recliner with his feet propped up on either side of his body and his spine flat. Effortlessly, he kept lifting a weight bar up and down over his head. His shorts were now discarded on the floor, and his dark root of pleasure was pointing toward the ceiling, swaying in a friendly pose.
I wriggled my hand up my skirt a few times, jerked it up high, removed my boxers, swung one leg in front of him and grazed my tongue across his pubic bone while holding up his long shaft and placing it to my hot, vaguely throbbing spot. I sank down so I could touch it. I let out an “ooh, ooh” of slurping pleasure as it slithered up unconsciously against my lower body and plunged deep into the creditor without hesitation. I clenched it tightly, my body twisting up and down.
He pumped up and down inside me like a rod of iron, like a supreme athlete, the kind of dark, athletic athlete that would have made Hitler turn his back and sneer in the 1930s.
My breasts danced in his face and Tyrone laughed, he loved the banter, the constant touching and parting. He couldn’t pump his rod and suck on my breasts at the same time; he possessed such a strong desire to exercise that he couldn’t stop lifting weights in his hands. In fact, I think he had been given more intense pleasure than ever before.
“Fifty,” he exhaled with satisfaction, placing the weightlifting bar backward on the stand. He clasped my twat in his white-knuckled hands and pushed up and down in a continuous, very pleasurable motion, and when our bodies were slick and writhing together, he lifted his head and bawled and sucked loudly on my breasts.
My whole body shook with the onset of my orgasm, and so did he, jerking to a halt in his throbbing and making pleasurable noises like a cat purring in spring. “Oh! Ohh! Oh!”
I clamped down on his succulent, regularly twitching, stuffed manhood with my own riotous pussy muscles.
After a while, I extricated myself from his lovely, long, softening man-root and slowly wandered into the bathroom to take a shower. He followed, getting under the rosette while I applied my pink lipstick.
“Where are you going?”
“I told you about going to the Amazon.”
“Oh, yeah,” he whispered, laughing softly, not believing me, and all I could say was to take it all as a scheduled two-week vacation trip to Majorca for the purpose of admiring more seedy guys and fewer intoxicating specialty beers. As I picked up my bags and headed for the door to my room, I sent him a flying kiss.
“Promise me you won’t read my paper.”
I hate flying and now I’m stuck on an airplane. I want to walk around as much as I want, eat some delicious food, and take a shower afterwards. Instead of being stuck in a tiny cabin. Next thing I know, I’m in Belém.
Belém is a very modern, famous and quite Brazilian city. It was a thousand times better than staying in an airplane, and I bought many items in the stores. Determined to exceed Carl’s allowance.
Then I flew to Manaus in the interior of Brazil. I rather liked the airplane, as it didn’t pretend to be restful and comfortable. In Belém, the Amazon was so wide that it was hopeless.
I mean, if you add some salt, so that you can get a deeper emotion than the sea. In Manaus I saw another face of the river.
In Manaus I had to wait to see my friend who, according to Karl, was to be a photographer named Masson. The newspaper had made a deal to buy his photographs, and the lady owner, who saw this as a vacation, was obviously happy to have a professional writer and a photographer along. He wasn’t at the hotel I was staying at when I pitched up, so I decided to enjoy the nightlife and see what the tropicalized business here had to offer. The men here are quite agile and bold. They employ the means favored by the ladies as if it were an unplanned encounter.
It was a way I could cope with. But this was neither the time nor the place, so I kindly sent them back and waited patiently for the man.
It’s an unusual place, about a million people, with lots of modern high-rise buildings, all tucked away in the middle of a jungle area. The water level of this river falls forty feet every year, so all those boat docks are floating. I arrived at the Manaus Opera House, and it was unbelievable, Jennie B. Linda had been there in 1990, and she had been there for the first time. Jenny Linda sang here in 1990, and the Russian Ballet performed here in its heyday. Currently it puts on some shitty shows, but it’s still a pretty nice place.
I am not inclined to write about it. I’m not a travel writer, I don’t have to write about vacations, and I’m even less happy to get into the rut of writing a guidebook. I returned to the hotel, scratchy from the stifling heat and humidity. There was no air conditioning in the room. I changed into a white bathing suit and a silk robe and went to the swimmer.
Suddenly the sky became dim. I was so close to the equator. The pool was almost empty. The bottom of the pool was lit, and the surrounding area seemed dark because the lights mounted on the tiled floor around the pool were all turned off, so you could only see it from above. From below, looking up through the azure-blue blazing pool water, you could see the stars at night.
I surfaced and amused myself by smoothing back my dripping hair and climbing out of the water.
A man was watching me. He was sitting alone at a table by the pool, smoking a cigarette and watching carefully.
I searched for the bath towel and the plain robe; they weren’t where I’d just put them. Finally, I landed my eyes on the man.
My bath towel was lying on a chair next to him. The commode was also hitched to the back of the chair.
I don’t like to break people’s tricks.
I crossed to his side and grabbed a towel to wipe my face. The rich night air poured over my cool skin like warm olive oil.
“Want a cigarette?” He said as he handed over the cigarette case.
“I’m already smoking,” I replied. While rubbing my hair.
He raised an eyebrow. The light wasn’t too bright, but you could still make out that he was in his late thirties, with a roughly expanded profile, wearing a wrinkled summer suit. There was no tie, and the open-collar white shirt with the gray jacket made him look rather dark.
“When I get screwed,” I yelled, “I get very angry.” I grinned with my teeth showing.
“Sidney,” he said.
“Hey, that’s my name too, what a coincidence.”
“I made a point of questioning the waiter in order to recognize you. It seems to me Sidney should be a man’s name.”
“I had surgery. Same as John Wayne. Same as Wayne. He attempted to be Marion.” It was at this point that I realized I was talking to an American, or possibly a Canadian, and that I wasn’t too keen on recognizing accents.
His eyes rested on my bikini-clad body. “Quite a doctor,” he said while whistling maliciously.
I put on my civilian robe. “Sir, if you want women’s clothes, you can go buy them, next time I see you with my clothes, I’m calling the police.” I whispered.
“Why didn’t Carl come?” He asked abruptly.
My heart sank that he was even my companion.
“He had an accident. So the paper sent me.” I added in a small voice, “I’m also a reporter.”
“What about the deal with Carl, he’s an important man.”
“You’re making a deal with my newspaper. Man, Carl’s not on the payroll.”
He looked dismayed. “I don’t want to take you with me to the Amazon.”
“Don’t need you to take me anywhere, I can get there on my own.”
“Why didn’t Carl tell me himself?”
“His lower jaw is immobilized by metal wires and his whole body is being immobilized.”
“He’s been beaten?”
“Whoops,” I said mildly. “You must come from a place with a very disorganized social order. On the street where I live, crime brews only in people’s heads. Even when it happened, it was non-violent. He accidentally fell from a high platform. I mean he was going to jump off and unfortunately the rubber cord broke, that’s all.”
He pounded the table with his fist. “I don’t believe it,” he growled low.
“I was lying, but sooner or later someone we know will tell you the truth,” I said pointedly. Did he hate all women or was it because of my volatile personality? To be honest, I rather liked that about myself personally.
He glared at me perversely. “You shouldn’t have come, it should have been Carl. Even if Carl doesn’t come, at least a man who can write should come.”
“Egotist.” I perked up a bit. “You’re getting on my nerves.” I blinked my eyelids.
He suddenly laughed out loud. Hey, this person is really bad, so thought the person gradually became lighter.
The night was as pleasant as a lover. I could faintly hear some powerful music coming from inside. I was feeling a little hungry; I had paid a visit to the menu here earlier in the day, and it looked pretty awful. The water that stained my body collected at the crotch of my bikini swimsuit and slowly dripped to the floor.
I’m a bit of a spaz.
“You don’t look like a man willing to suffer,” he said.
“I’ll tell you what,” I rejoined slowly. “Put aside all those weird ideas and just shoot, that’s it, and the rest is up to you.” And with that, I turned my head and walked away.
I dressed up carefully and went to the bar for a drink before dinner. Here I confess to having made the acquaintance of a truly gentle man. A businessman, that’s how he introduced himself. He looked extremely well dressed. I felt it was time to get to know the country myself. After enjoying the food and drink together, I took him back to his room.
I can restrain myself, I am not a nymphomaniac, although I love this, from the bottom of my heart.
That photographer watched me, staring at me as I ate, drank, and danced until I left with the man.
Most of these photographers are voyeuristic and love to spy on other people’s every move.
My Brazilian guest was of the finest quality. He undid my silk shirt, kissed my breasts, and swayed me to the rhythm of the music. Brazil is a country of music, as if it runs in everyone’s veins.
I could feel his swollen manhood through his pants. I loved it all, this feeling of excitement for the man and myself, he was great and we were going to have fun together. The guy was clean, quite clean I’d say, and smelled great.
He danced as he removed my full body of clothing, then stepped back and stood, watching, unable to stop himself from applauding at what he saw. “It’s beautiful,” he gasped, “so beautiful.”
I’m not actually very beautiful, but that praise doesn’t hurt me in the least.
He removes his own jacket coat, but immediately shows his unease as he drops to his knees and kisses my belly, curling into rings of sweaty hair, licking and kissing my twat until my inhalation accelerates, and that’s when it occurs to me that traveling isn’t an uninteresting errand.
His shirt was stiff and looked increasingly white against his skin color. I unbuttoned his shirt and kissed his smooth, hairless chest lightly. As I undid the trip hook on his belt, I suddenly heard him stop breathing.
This body odor is so wonderful.
He wasn’t much taller than me, but had a well developed, muscular, strong body. I stood facing him, rubbing my naked breasts against his bare chest. Hands tugged at his pants. The small of my back squeezing forward. I liked it so much this way, and maybe he liked it the same way, but he didn’t care in the least. With our sex organs squeezed firmly between us, we kissed passionately, panting sharply, growing more and more aroused. He shrugged off all the clothes on his body. I circled his hips with both hands. It was fantastic, rigid and firm. He licked and kissed my throat, and I could even feel my hair hanging against my back as I tilted my head back to make my throat more exposed.
We dropped to the carpet, so voraciously horny that it was too late to crawl into bed and make love. His things were huge and lovely dangling and I really loved them. The hateful thing is that it’s not all you have, it’s just something you can suffer with for a while. If a key is a little too small for a lock, it certainly won’t open any doors. That’s how I see it. The door to my joy opened. This man licked and kissed it wonderfully and immensely, and I squirmed with pleasure and excitement. He licked and sucked my pussy like a cat until it became wet, then he checked my wetness with his tongue. I managed to lick and kiss his delightful cock as well, I love the taste of a man’s manhood that is firm and excited and starting to drip, but still needs to be inserted inside.
Ah, how skillful. It slipped inside me like a velvet-covered iron cupping, slick and slippery as if it had been rubbed with oil, like a rose inside me. I tensed my muscles and whimpered with pleasure. He jerked easily, pressing against my open body, the hard, thick cock filling my tightly stuffed cunt, then he drew back until I cried out with hunger and thirst before he dug in again.
He danced with his cock more than he jerked inside me. He slid gently, one moment fast, one moment slow, one moment rough, one moment docile, followed by a hard body thrust, followed by a gentle one, each movement changing to something different. He started thrusting harder and harder inside again, getting more and more greedy. My orgasm descended and was managing to make both of them even happier. That juicy pussy muscle kept sucking on his rod, squeezing and clenching until he spurted. As the shaft softened, the man still wouldn’t pull out.
I lay flat on my back contentedly. He licked and kissed at my cleavage, then turned and started tweaking my toes, sucking and nibbling them. Until then, I had never thought of them as a kind of erogenous zone of the body, but this Brazilian was able to create a wonderful effect in this way.
Meanwhile I held up his dick. Its head was sticky, but the back part was lying on a soft, swollen, stupidly somewhat funny scrotum. I cupped the soft pile of sacks again and played with them.
I noticed that the smug manhood was slowly swelling up, the soft folded foreskin was bulging and oily. I began licking and kissing, I loved the feeling of holding a man’s sex in my mouth, and when confronted with the opposite, a violent reaction quickly rippled through his hands and knees.
My legs were stretched out. This lovely man hung his manhood as naturally relaxed as possible, so that it was okay for me to fill my mouth as much as I wanted, and it was okay if I had to suck on it gently. At this point, he buried his head between my legs, his hair tickling the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
He started sucking me again with precision. It did not end there. This man was caressing me in every way, and I was both pleased and amazed, followed by endless excited pleasure. He licked and sucked around my anus until he touched my clit. He stopped at this area and began to nibble and chew until my hips jumped slightly, and with this skillful provocation I was once again on a fast track to an orgasm of sexual excitement. His mouth and tongue lingered on my pussy, carefully stimulating and tweaking the labia, then licking and kissing and sucking on the opening of my vagina, making it open and close like the lips of a mouth.
How many men can skillfully work this lovemaking technique? I crossed my hands over his hips and scooped up his downward dangling manhood into my mouth. I began to suck on it vigorously, my fingers stabbing into his ass-crack and gently scratching his anus.
He licked his tongue into the secret passageway, and after a few sucks he reached back out. At the same time, again, he pressed his lower jaw against my nub. By now I felt close to the height of sexual excitement, his cock had moved fully onto my fleshy clit, rubbing and rubbing it, making my pussy wet, my belly flushed with an softness, and my body trembling, I was shocked by his skill in making love so skillfully.
Sometimes I think society should open a school for men to teach them how to make love and caress properly. Only then will men be able to become the pillars of the future.
Again, I’m a good gamer. Constantly stroking very passionately up and down his muscular body until his hips began to quake. I even slipped a fingertip into his anus. Within moments he was convulsing with excitement and spurting uncontrollably large amounts of whitish-colored cum, which I greedily tasted and swallowed in his salty, male love juice.
We shared a bath afterward. I’m glad he didn’t want to stay on, I don’t like seeing men first thing in the morning. Or even anyone including myself. We agreed that there was other work to be done and walked to the door, where he dressed and I pulled on my silk commode.
By the open door of the room, he kissed me on the lips and whispered some nice sounding anecdotes about the Portuguese.
I watched him pass through the corridor to the elevator. Leaning against the doorframe like a whore, his hair tousled and his face covered with an idiotic expression, the photographer came down the aisle.
He seemed to live right next door to me. He looked at me as he walked. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asked.
I had to return the favor. The guy’s a little jumpy.
“It tastes so wonderful that even you look full of appetite,” I retorted, but it was certainly true. He was tall and walked with an unhurried, lithe, athletic stride.
He looked at me coldly, leaning in a very sexy position.
“It was a mistake,” he said.
I squinted at him.
“Don’t be that way,” he said coldly, twisting his head to look at my departing lover. “I imagine you’re here instead of Carl.”
“Don’t confuse the main purpose with the loose ends,” I shot back. “I didn’t want to be here in the first place, and I still don’t want to be here now.”
“I’ll see you in the cafeteria at 8:30 tomorrow morning, we need to talk.”
“Eight-thirty is working time,” I replied, turning away coldly. “If it’s still cold and cynical, I won’t come even if I have to wait until after nine.”
He raised his eyes but couldn’t come up with a better retort. As I turned back and closed the door, I couldn’t help but smile smugly. Getting around sexy men was easy for me. If you can’t sleep with them, torture them with words.
I fell asleep as I thought about it, and I secretly thought he was pretty hot.
I kept dreaming of the image of the man curtly fawning over me, mumbling and whispering under my breath and waking up with a start. Once I woke up and relaxed again, falling asleep was not so easy.
Every mosquito fly that has come from miles around seems to be buzzing around or gathering on the balcony to flutter their wings. Only God knows how honorable it is that we have come to this jungle. Maybe tomorrow I should pick up some rubber plugs for my ear holes and a ten gallon bucket of insect repellent.
I sat up from the bed and twisted on the light, cursing the hotel that didn’t have a mini-bar in the room. Pulling on my satin pajama pants, I walked barefoot to the shutters, opened the window door, and walked faithfully out onto the wrought-iron balcony. I decided to pass on the idea of a stiff drink and get out to soak up some of the fresh Manaus night air. Almost simultaneously, my attention was diverted; awakened by the intrusion of an impolite man into my dreams, the night life of Manaus had a cathartic and penetrating power, and the idea of a drink faded away as I peered into the next room.
I am not a voyeur. Neither was I a womanizing Matson, but what caught my eye was a scene I had never encountered before. I don’t consider myself a voyeur either, but at this point it was hard to help myself from standing there watching and observing, all mesmerized and impatient to see what came next.
The wrought iron balcony of our two suites was a separate structure, separated by a row of iron railings.
Standing by the fence, I could just about see the bedroom door to the next room. The light was on in the room, everything was covered in a soft peach color, and the blinds were open in order to draw in the night air. In the room were two waiters and a maid. I had ample proof of the identity of each of them, for earlier in the day I had called upon them for a favor.
The two waiters were Julio and Ricardo, and the maid who cleaned the bedroom was named Constanza. Though they were at the moment completely naked and not wearing uniforms containing name tags.
I watched intently with wide eyes. Fortunately none of them could see me. I felt like a lewd voyeur, but it was just hard to control. I wanted to know what was going on, I wanted to stay here and scrutinize every detail until the house lights turned off and it was over.
There was music playing in the room, a Samba beat, and each man took turns taking the woman into his arms and clustering her tightly, twirling her around, his prick pressed against her and rubbing against her over and over again while another man couldn’t wait to wrestle her away from the caressing hands.
Constanza was very beautiful and moving. Dark skin, petite, hair like sable, eyes like Irish velvet, deep and fascinating. The two men were extremely fond of her, their eyes and hands wrapped around her for a moment.
Ricardo took her slender waist in both hands and lifted her up, the swollen glans of his slender cock jabbing toward her, her legs wobbling as she wrapped them around him, her arms around his neck as his head bent sharply down to suck on her breasts. Oh, God, for a split second I was burning and hot as if I had a fever. There was a searing heat like purgatory. My palm involuntarily rolled over the quivering vestibular bulge and pressed firmly against my pussy, and what a lucky Constanza. I couldn’t help but gasp.
Julio is top notch. Truly, I was already salivating over him when he carried my luggage to my room. Likewise with Ricardo. The two of them could have been brothers. Dark complexion, dark hair and eyes, tall and thin, with the elegance of a bullfighter. A lot like Rudolph in a silent movie. Valentino. A single silent glance would make a woman’s lower body wet and shudder. When I saw Julio pouring wine at the table in the hotel’s dining room, I secretly planned to lie about having myocarditis so that I could stay on and not have to go on this extremely stupid Amazon expedition, which, once bedridden, would allow me to use the privilege of room service more often than not.
Julio, Ricardo and Constanza were so indulged in the house that it was obvious that none of them had yet attained the climax of sexual fulfillment. I’m sure that such a group pleasure would have been very pleasurable.
Ricardo lowered her onto the straw mat made of corduroy, and the ceiling fan kept spinning, and the reflections falling from the light effect covered them in a constantly rippling circle. His prick pressed against her pussy, and with a sharp thrust of his loins inward, I saw the entirety of his thick cock submerged in her tiny, love-filled secret passageway. Now his cock belonged completely to her, the balls vibrating uncontrollably against her anus. At the same time she pushed herself energetically, so hungrily. Such a wonderful man still couldn’t satisfy her carnal desires, and apparently, he can fuck me here too.
Perhaps it was his South American kind of winningness that appealed to me and would add some of the essential experience of sexual intercourse, whereas Constanza, for Ricardo and Julio, seemed too plain and ordinary. When confronted with a blue-eyed, blonde Nordic race, no doubt they would have shared my current ecstatic obsession.
I groaned secretly. Must have gasped and shushed a little too loudly. The three men in the room stopped at once, peering out through the open French windows, their eyes pressing right into me. I mumbled and couldn’t stop apologizing for disturbing them.
Ricardo stopped twitching inside Constanza and braced his body with his tan arms.
Julio came out onto the balcony, smiled at me and bowed his head slightly in deference. He asked, “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
“I want a copy of the same thing she does,” I pleaded, looking lewdly askance, remembering a line of dialog from When Harry Met Sally and thinking how ingenious I was.
“She’s enjoying the full service,” Julio replied, sliding his arm over the grate that separated us and wrapping it around me, swaying.
“Full service?”
“Yes, full service. That’s it, ma’am.”
“I’ve seen it.”
“No, not yet. Only Ricardo and Julio fuck at the same time to complete the full service. You can come over and watch. Might enjoy it, right?”
“Ah. Maybe.” I intently watched all the moves of the combined group in front of me, only to see Ricardo impale his upward thrusting thick rod into the secret hole of the greedy and petite Constanza again.
Julio came over and lay down beside the copulating pair, stroking his smooth, erect cock, doing his best to stroke the foreskin downward to expose the extremely sensitive glans, and sticking it into Constanza’s mouth.
As Ricardo jerked sharply back and forth, Constanza took Julio’s manhood into her mouth, pouting her lips contently into a tightening circle around his manhood while sucking up and down regularly in time with his powerful limb movements.
I tossed and turned in the neighborhood. More than a little, anxious to stay there, yet it was too exciting to leave. Seemingly controlled by their will, I unbuttoned my silk pajama pants without even realizing it, fondled my breasts, and my pussy was as hot as if it were on fire. However, compared to the sensation of their penetration, it was as bland and tasteless as milk and coffee.
The girl’s mouth, stuffed with midnight snacks, squealed with excitement, and her pelvis arched upward in response to Ricardo’s never-ending, piston-like movements. Gradually her whole body shivered and spasmed, first with a loud moan, typical of South Americans, and then with a series of quivering sighs of contentment, as if she had just escaped death.
Ricardo hooked up a finger and grinned to signal me to come closer, while dazzling the still-firm, oily rod of pleasing proportions. I was coaxed to walk over to the bed with the white sheets under the delicate white mosquito net. In fact, there was no need for any persuasion at all; I was already trembling with the wonderful, primitive simplicity of carnal desire. I tore off my silk pajama pants and sprinted over to it.
Ricardo pulled me close to him, one hand rubbing my cheek, then my neck, shoulders, hips, thighs, and finally stopping at my inner thighs. He didn’t waste a moment, running a feather-light finger over my inverted, overgrown triangle, skimming upward over my belly button, my flat stomach up to my full, firm breasts. This South American dude grinned and leaned forward excitedly rubbing and tweaking a somewhat stiff, small nipple with his toothy lips. His tongue swept over my plump, white, soft muscles, which had been left slightly red from mosquito bites. From the moment I stepped off the plane in South America, Ricardo’s mouth and tongue were the most satisfying, welcoming things I’d encountered in the neighborhood.
While he greedily nibbled and sucked on my breasts, his knees were pressed against my thighs so that those rigid, powerful arms could slowly move closer to my juicy pussy, carefully caressing it, squirming lasciviously, wet and hot, as he kept fiddling and playing with it with his quivering fingertips. He touched my secret hole easily and slipped inside in a flash, his pussy wet as if he’d pissed on it due to his hunger and thirst. A series of moans of pleasure escaped my throat, and Ricardo laughed out loud with abandon, his tongue raining down on me in a storm of licks and kisses.
His entire body was simply a sliding pleasure creator, as supple and easily curved as a snake. His body touched me from head to toe, and I was so satisfied. I also ran my fingers over his tanned skin, smooth as silk and beaded with glistening sweat, tonguing his ears, his shoulders, and gripping his long, slender legs as his fingers slipped out of their secret pathways. I moaned and repressed myself, clenching my empty pussy muscles and gripping the man possessively.
He laughed derisively and maniacally, frowning mockingly at me, his dark eyes sparkling. “The lady is too sexual. You must learn to wait. Pleasure and joy is the sweetness of all waiting.” He moved his body over mine, rubbing hard, one stiff nipple raking across my jutting shoulder. I struggled to lie flat on my back, in a position ready for intercourse, but Ricardo remained straddling me. The engorged, swollen cock slithered down my slippery, satiny backside all the way between my plump ass cheeks, and the thick rod arched the slippery secret hole open, wet and greasy, and plunged in all at once from behind.