Scanning Proofreading: CSH
Chapter VII
The party was marching slowly, and everywhere the dense tropical forest made it difficult at times to advance, so much so that the men were obliged to line up and hack their way through it with great force.
In three days we had advanced scarcely five hundred yards, and the tempers of the men became more and more irritable, and Poe was guessing who the spies were.
I leaned back against a tree trunk and pretty much fell asleep standing up, the dampness of the rainforest floor slowly spreading up through my feet, I figured it would be pretty lucky to just die in the miasma.
I gazed at Masson, the man who had upset me. Martha sank beside me into the soft, mattress-like leaves, forgetting the ants for the moment, while reaching for her canteen of water, drinking cautiously, and wiping the perspiration from her brow with a wet handkerchief. Her cheeks were hot to a pale red, as mine were, damp and burning, and her face was weary as she watched him too, though not very colorfully; Rory was her main man, not entirely exclusive, of course, but that didn’t matter.
“What a great ass, huh?”
I nodded slightly, looking at Masen jealously. “I thought so.”
“Too robust.”
“Oh.” I watched him closely, sweating, his hair slicked back, his lower jaw full of short, hard whiskers that hadn’t been shaved in days, his body seemingly tireless at all.
Matson hacked and pulled, dragging the trailing field thing slowly off to the side from the path, always checking with Kara from time to time to see if we were going in the wrong direction, and I knew full well that we were going in the right direction without having a way of letting everyone know that she wasn’t the only one able to wield this magical power. I didn’t really want the attention drawn to me, I had resolved not to let the mask work its pathfinding magic on me.
I kept to myself, and so did everyone else. It’s not all safe to stay together, and I can appreciate what the expectation of unimaginable riches does to people; they become paranoid and suspicious at times that everyone around them is salivating for their share of the treasure, and they’re afraid of being killed, and they want to kill. But I wouldn’t think so anyway, because I don’t believe there is any wealth at the end of this particular rainbow.
As night fell, we did our best to sleep and try to use it to regain our strength, but it was too hard to get an ounce of rest, the jungle was so lively at night.
I sighed raggedly and turned angrily, trying to ignore everything around me. Oh, how I missed the cities with police patrols and celebrities. There I could do whatever I wanted, while here I was only lost and restless, what the hell was I doing here? I want to go home.
Suddenly someone screamed at the top of their lungs, I think it was Martha. I didn’t really like what happened, and the group all jumped up in panic, all except Jack who was grabbing the dart and arrow with the feather attached to his neck, and he let out a breathless howl before falling heavily to the ground, like a sedated elephant.
Carla let out a shrill cry, “Indians!” We each fled with our heads in our hands.
My heart was thumping, hot blood rushed to my eyes all at once, my lungs felt as if they were going to explode, and I struggled and stumbled, actually falling more than running, climbing after Colin, who I was sure wasn’t sure where to go, and it was practically blind panic, and I hadn’t seen an Indian at all, and on the strength of Carla’s remark, I suddenly felt like a complete idiot, and slowed down to try to clear my head.
I lowered my voice and called forward, “Colin, where are you going?” There was no answer. “Colin?” I crept forward, thinking it would probably be more sober if we stayed together.
I pivoted the huge goat-toothed field-thing to one side, and peeped in between to see Colin walk into a patch of land which up to the present time had not been completely taken over by the tropical jungle, and my whole body slackened with a moment’s relief, and I began to move on, but stopped suddenly immediately afterwards.
First, the thick field of grass and trees began to sway before my eyes, then the shadows of men appeared against a background of multiple rocks. Haphazardly painted bodies, green and gray Indians. I held my breath, cowering in great fear behind the massive goat-toothed field thing, biting my fingers.
There are still a few tribes of Indians living in the upper reaches of the Amazon, who have never seen a white man and have had absolutely no contact with civilization, as Lori said just yesterday, as if it were the truth. There have been several expeditions that have lost contact with the outside world and have never been heard from again, and now we have to rely on our luck.
Poor Colin, they’re going to kill him. It was so obvious that I didn’t want to look any further, I was afraid of what I might see, and even more afraid that they’d catch me, and it was theirs.
I crouched low, not daring to breathe, and peered carefully. It was darkening now, and the green field things were fading to gray and black, but a bright moon shone through the gaps in the trees, making the surroundings silver.
Colin tried to escape, but was soon caught and beaten, they tore his clothes, Colin looked pale and frail, the moonlight made his muscles pale, a not too sturdy, almost soft man. He must have expected to be treated this way, so he didn’t resist at all.
Despite my horror and stupidity, I also knew that I had to follow far behind at a distance, and if possible, save him anyway.
Their makeshift camp was small, and a campfire was burning, and they pushed an arrow against the half-naked Colin and pushed him in, while they themselves were busy with all sorts of gestures, moving expressions, and rambling.
Colin was kneeling before them. I’d always thought of him as one of those uncontroversial but tedious types, a man who regarded zoology and fieldcraft as his main pleasures, and now, as I snooped and reevaluated the man, he was far more courageous than I’d ever imagined.
The group of Indians, all males, young and quick, a good bunch of hunters, had wrapped several fresh fish in cranberry leaves and placed them on top of the grill by the fire.
While the fish were being flipped, they pulled out their leather water bags and started drinking, and to my amazement they even handed them to Colin. He took a sip, obviously felt good, and took another swig, while politely saying “thank you” and trying to smile like a friend. This was Colin’s style, and although he wasn’t an anthropologist, he clearly found them fascinating.
An Indian man with fairly straight, dark hair and gold earrings stroked the white skin of Colin’s shoulders in amazement; he must have been the first white man they had encountered. At any rate, they treated him with some respect and didn’t exactly plunge arrows coated with exposing poison into him, as I had expected.
I’m right across the street from the campground. I knew I couldn’t move away quickly and silently; I had to either move quickly and loudly, or not say a word, hold out hope, and wait here quietly. I chose the latter and stayed down there watching the picnic scene.
As they ate, they handed the fish to Colin, who took it gracefully, immediately switching the piping hot fish from one hand to the other until it cooled down, causing them to chuckle and show rows of blindingly white teeth. I grunted with hunger as they ate their fill, stretched for a moment, burped and cast curious glances at their unexpected catch, then took a nap, leaning close to each other for warmth, while the rest coaxed their companions to prop themselves up on their hands and knees on the ground, so that they could climb onto each other’s backs in a position where they needn’t have made a fuss, and give quick vent to their sexual urges.
I watched hesitantly, my eyes as wide as Colin’s. They were skillfully intertwined, giving generously, thrusting easily into the hips, obviously they were often satisfied this way, like a routine. In fact Colin was so affected and quite visibly aroused that he shifted his position on his hands and knees, his manhood stiffening out, and the Indians hinted at it with light touches of their elbows to each other, amused by the behavior, laughing in low, light, maniacal voices. One of them crawled up to Colin, his hips swaying, his legs spread wide, the muscles in his ass playfully contracting and relaxing for a moment.
Colin greedily launched himself at him, caressing his buttocks while inserting one fingertip into the man’s anus. The buttocks squirmed and moved, his desire clear. The scholarly, serious and young civilized man grabbed the native by the waist, and easily inserted his penis, all the while lowering his head and observing that his manhood was completely submerged. The Indian pushed backward in close proximity, obviously delighted, and Colin began to hurry, greedily Park Chik, puffing and jerking as a man who has been holding back his cock for a long time.
I knew how he felt. He’d been paying attention, he’d been wanting Rory for days, seeing him with Carla, wanting him again himself, craving that tight little hole of his. But Rory had been calculating, coping, he wouldn’t fuck or be fucked by anyone without a good reason, everything he did had a purpose.
With a cry of pleasure, Colin climaxed, his long-forgotten thirst satisfied, the soft, slippery cock slipping free from the succulent channel. He slumped there, gasping for breath, a small smile hanging on his cheeks.
The Indian who had just fucked this white man now moved to the back, dazzling, and I realized I was wet with the most unforgettable erection. It was really thick, at least nine inches long, and jerked sharply to comfort it. Colin looked like he was in heat, his hips were up in the air, he was beaming, and he couldn’t stop making a series of appreciative “ahhh’s”.
When all the lust had been fully satisfied, the group fell asleep, and so did Colin. I could not yet be sure, and I was afraid I had ventured to do so, when it was evident that he, who possessed a strong courage, was sound asleep as an infant.
I moved slowly towards him, a process that took at least half an hour, taking each step with the utmost care. I called softly, my voice shivering uncontrollably with fear.
“Colin?”
There was no reaction, he didn’t even move.
Instead an Indian moved, scratched the tip of his reddish-brown nose, and slumbered again.
“Colin?” I whispered, seeming more urgent this time.
He opened one eye, then his mouth, and looked as if he were about to speak, and I pressed a finger to my own lips in alarm, warning him to keep quiet.
I raised one hand to suggest to him, and with the movement of my mouth I uttered without making a sound, “Come on, let’s escape.”
But he shook his head: no, I’m staying.
I shook my head desperately in great horror, this man was insane, “No. They’ll kill you.”
“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t.”
I kept shaking my head, albeit with some confusion. “Why?”
“I can’t explain it, go away, find someone else and forget about me.”
“You stupid ass.”
He smiled broadly, “Yeah, maybe.”
The other Indian moved again, placing an arm affectionately across Colin’s body, and I drew back, disappearing into the blank blackness of the tropical jungle.
No one could blame me, and I had to restore myself to confidence as I stumbled back through the maze of angrily open fields, doing my best to risk my life trying to persuade Colin to flee. No, it wasn’t my fault, and even so, my conscience still can’t rest.
Near noon the next day I finally found the expedition’s campsite, where Martha, kneeling, tear-stained, was placing an orchid on Jack’s chest, which had drifted down with many broken leaves. As I collapsed nearby, parched for water, she looked up with a weak smile of joy.
“Thank God you’re safe, Sidney. Where’s Colin?”
“Caught by the Indians.”
“Oh, my God!”
Margaret clutched her knees against her chest, and she looked about the same as I did. She was staring, pale, unable to even make a sound, and for some reason I kept expecting Matson and her to be safe.
I turned my attention to Martha. “Why don’t we see Lori and Matson?”
“No sign of either of them yet. But I’m sure they’ll be fine,” she said, hopefully.
Kara stood at the edge of the clearing, looking away from the vast, unfathomable green forest and the Vicar Bamba that called to her, and I knew all about it because it was calling to me, too.
By the time Rory staggered back to camp, I had almost dug a grave pit big enough to bury Jack in with a shovel. Rory was scratched up, bloodied, and limping a bit.
“Lori,” Carla shouted with unstoppable relief. “Thank God you’re back safe and sound.
“She rushed towards him with open arms, spearing him tightly as light kisses rained down on his face. Crossing her shoulder, he handed me some confident smile, which I returned, but where was Masson? I didn’t really care about the tough guy at all, I just hoped he didn’t get hurt.
Martha inquired about it, and Rory extended an arm around Carla, then sat down between us and recounted in a low voice what had happened to them.
“We ran, Masson in front and I close behind, and did not stop until we were quite sure that we were not being chased again. We started back, but lost our way, and in the early hours of this morning Masson lost his footing again and fell into that same valley from which we had come, and it was not until after daylight that I saw him, but dead and motionless, with no sign of being alive, and I could not climb down to get near him. It was a terrible scene.”
He laughed miserably in distress but not a single tear. Perhaps he didn’t think they were brave enough; in any case, it was enough to have Margaret crying.
I stared at him with my mouth open. Matson was dead? My organs seemed to turn over and rush to the bottom of my stomach all at once.
Martha shook her head desperately as she stared in disbelief. “Colin and Jack and Matson, it was horrible.”
I sat down in silence and threw the shovel into the pit.
We came together in a huddle that night, with no plans for the next day, and in a state of complete devastation from the flying disaster. Crossing to Lori and Carla, Martha and I exchanged sad looks with each other, both of whom seemed as ready as before to be single-minded in their quest to find the lost city, with all the misfortunes quickly behind them.
Luckily Colin didn’t die, but I don’t believe he would have stayed with the drow for very long.
Rory cuddled Carla lovingly until she was content to sleep. Then he crawled over to my side and curled his body tightly around my back, his hands groping around, unbuttoning my top button and fondling the inside of my pants as I let him, his ecstatic, joyful closeness only confirming that I was still alive, but that sex was the last thing left in my mind. He tried harder and harder to arouse me, stroking my breasts and clitoris like a bunch of horny schoolboys, clumsy because of the clothes that got in the way, but with another lovely persistence.
“God, I love you so much, I must have you, Sidney. Don’t mind me, okay, darling? I understand how sad you feel about their deaths, and that’s partly why I want you… need you. Let’s join our bodies together to prove in a tangible way that we’re still alive, that we can’t be defeated.”
He spoke to my heart and I shifted my body to lie flat on my back, obediently accepting and unzipping his zipper, and with a burning, intense desire for carnal desire, I squirmed out of my own pants and parted my knees as he inserted his fingers into my hot, wet pussy, then pressed heavily on them and stabbed his thick cock into me, gently, noiselessly pumping so as not to wake the three women curled up the three women curled up nearby.
Rory was full of masculinity and I had never coveted anyone as much as I coveted him, but tonight I didn’t react because I was thinking about other things, such as: why did the Indians shoot only Jack with poisoned arrows? Why only Jack was shot when there was a group of men who captured Colin, any one of whom could have made a target out of any one of us? Also with the Matson thing, I am not a believer in the paranormal, being able to telepathically transfer information from one end to the other. But tonight when Lori rolled me over and kissed my mouth, forehead and said from time to time, “Thank you, honey, thank you.” Inside I knew very well that Matson was still alive, and yes, damn it, some hint had been encouraging me.
Lori was sound asleep beside me, a contented smile on her face, as if the world was carefree.
He was a very confident man, a manipulator, and on the surface, he loved me wanted to marry me and have a litter of babies. Alarm bells went off in my thoughts and I slowly moved away from him, straightening my clothes as I headed in the direction Rory had just returned, determined to see for myself what had happened to the man who had troubled me.
The moon was out again, what a savior, thank God, and I gripped my dagger tightly in my right hand, as nervous as in hell, and often startled by the slightest movement or sound around me.
It was nearly dawn when I found the valley, so at least Rory wasn’t lying about that. Maybe it was wrong to doubt him, maybe what had happened was just as he had said: Matson had fallen down the valley, unmoving, looking like he was dead. He could be dead.
I carefully stepped to the edge of the rocky steep slope as the gravel slid sharply and drove more rocks down the trail to tumble into the rocky, thick underbrush at the bottom.
The sun steamed up through the floating mist and the emanating humidity rose once more making me very frustrated and uncomfortable as I inspected where I had walked, watching with extreme care. With nothing to lose, I didn’t even think to look up at the trees above my back, so the sound startled me and made me slip.
“What took you so long?” Masson raised one sneering eyebrow, wanting to know.
“Mason?”
“Do you miss me so much that you can’t go on without me?”
“Shameless, I just came by to visit and bury you in the meantime and dance on your grave.”
He laughed out loud affectionately. Upon realizing that he was alive, I tried my best to hide my elation. He was sitting on a huge cobblestone, covering his head tightly, his legs and arms scraped, his ragged clothes bloodstained above his face.
“You’re hurt?” I asked in surprise, as we moved away from each other, and reached out to poke one finger at the lump on his head.
“God, beast, no,” he roared, “what do you think?”
“I think I’m a bitch for even coming back for you, I should have left you here to feed the beasts, you would have made a great jaguar dinner for sure.” I muttered and dropped my backpack in search of a first aid kit.
I yanked out the disinfectant and a small piece of cotton and soaked it, I was hoping it was from a sting, and it was, my senses were pretty good.
He sucked in a quick breath and grimaced with his teeth, but for once he didn’t comment on my nearly seemingly abusive care. When I apply light compresses to his sore spots and thick, sticky ointment to the very bad scrapes, we’re that far apart, my breast bouncing and straining in my cloth shirt, he reaches out to grab it and squeeze it, and I smack the restless hand away. His fingers send a shiver through me, but there’s no time for that now, not the time, and I need to ask a few questions, a few queries I’ve been considering.
“Did you lose your footing and fall or were you pushed?”
“I think it was pushed off.”
“Rory.”
“Who else but him?” He looked at me with a wondering gaze, as if he thought only an idiot would ask that. “Losing consciousness may have saved my life, for like a drunkard I fell on all fours.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on, it’s unbelievable.”
“It’s all a trick played by your Lori.”
“He’s not mine, I don’t need him, don’t need any regular man. You shut up and listen carefully, Mason.” I emphasized, not tired and sadly, “Jack was killed by a poisoned arrow. Oh yes, you know about that, but why only Jack and not all of us? I can’t understand it, Colin and I ran away in the same direction, he was captured by the Indians, but, Mason, they didn’t look like murderous executioners, no, now that I think about it, they were all carrying blowguns, spears, bows and arrows.”
“If Rory was behind this, then it’s possible that he was right behind me when we fled the camp, following with the intention of killing me. But he was also involved in Jack’s death, and I didn’t like the man, really, but who was his partner… never mind, whoever… God, my head feels like it’s exploding just thinking about it…? What happened to Colin?”
“He… he actually decided to stay with the natives, and I couldn’t persuade him, I tried, I really did. I risked my life talking to him, but he seemed to enjoy being with them and was delighted with their usual daily sodomy.”
Masen giggled. “I hope he’s happy.”
“Can you walk?”
“I guess I could, I climbed out of that valley on my own, it took me almost all night, I just get dizzy now and then.”
“What are we going to do? What do you think Rory will do once he realizes I’m gone?”
“He’ll forget all about you, there’s only one thing in his mind Vicar Bamba.”
“That’s exactly where they’re going and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop them. That’s where we’re going too, Mr. Rory probably thinks we’re going to perish without Kara guiding us through this jungle, and we’re going to prove him wrong, okay sweetie.”
I glanced at him cautiously. “What exactly do you mean?”
“You know that road, and you can lead us to Vicarbamba with the same confidence as that annoying Miss Carla.”
“Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t.”
“No more hide-and-seek, I am powerless to guard against more deception.”
“Okay, okay.” I surrendered, “I know that way, I’ll lead the way, but don’t expect me to trust you, I won’t trust anyone, it’s safer that way.”
I started to put away the sanitizer when he grabbed my hand.
“You haven’t gotten it right yet. Look, I’ve cut a piece of my lip and scratched my cheek.”
“You hold up or not.”
“Maybe kissing them would be better?”
“I think it took a blow to the head to make you babble, and I’d rather turn into a pot-bellied pig.”
He made a snorting noise and yanked me over as soon as he could, wedging me tightly between his legs, then yanked the hem of my shirt out of my pants and arched his nose and mouth underneath it, all the while making sickening pig grunts. I started laughing so hard I couldn’t help but squeal when he brushed his short, hard bearded cheek across my bare belly.
“Uh-oh! Don’t be like that! It’s like sandpaper.”
He stopped stopping immediately, and I got up very quickly, dizzy to go.
“You wanted this all night?”
Laughing maniacally like a wolf, he picked me up in his arms and then made me lie down on the hard ground, holding me down tightly and stripping me half-naked, leaving only my unbuttoned top shirt, my pants and boxers all tossed aside.
Why would I let him do that? I don’t even like him, do I? He was sexy, I’d long ago recognized that. But the driving force behind his excitement was far greater than the arousal, and perhaps the sex was a guarantee of an agreement between us, something like a rough union. Oi! Damn it. All I could think about was his frankness, his simplicity, that was the truth, and how happy I was when I realized he was still alive. Maybe I’ll feel differently tomorrow, but that’s later, this is now, and of course, that happened suddenly.
He only pulled down his pants to reveal that insatiable section of erection, and when he worked his other stupefying magic and fell to the side, it immediately sent a strong rush through me. I rolled over and straddled him, lifting his thick cock with both hands and moving the sensitive glans back to shove it into my pussy.
He grinned and groaned.
I rose up with my eyes, looking very attractive, helping him to impale himself on my cavern of unbridled pleasure, and slowly sank my body, watching intently as the predictable expression of pleasure appeared, sliding downward over him, devouring him.
Apparently his head hurt so badly that he let out a guttural, joyful and agonizing sound, “Oh, my head, ah, it feels so good. Oh, God.”
I rode him, my ugly, athletic man, his face and limbs covered in sweat, soiled from his fall down the valley, as he reached out and covered my firm breasts, caressing the round, full breasts and the aroused, firm, stiff nipples. I also reached out and gently touched his bloodstained, rugged face.
I squirmed against him, my pussy muscles clamping down on his cock, causing him to yelp with a loud cry of excitement, and as my pussy bulge began to rotate, riding him faster became the main goal of what was left of my consciousness.
With a galloping, earth-shattering surge of exhilarating, high-pitched, great pleasure, Matson grabbed me by the waist and held on for dear life.
Slowly, very slowly. What had changed there? We had no machete, only my dagger, which I had reluctantly let Masson borrow in order to do my best to cleave his way through the rainforest.
In my backpack were only a handful of dry rations, two changes of clothes, a couple of pairs of semi-short underwear, and a completely useless map of the London Underground Railroad, which I didn’t know what to do with it there.
Matson whined excitedly, as if it was my fault for leaving my belongings at the camp when I fled to stay alive.
“The mask is in my backpack, they’re bound to find it and get help from the dual power that comes from these things. Besides the mask, there’s my flare and my camera.”
“Lighting…” I glared at him with curiosity and inquiry, “What does a photographer do with lighting?”
“Hey, make no mistake, it isn’t going to last very long, believe me. As a matter of fact, a friend of mine who fishes in the deep sea, when he heard that I was going to join in this expedition, said that God only knew what a difference there was between going to the Amazon and going out to sea, and said that he never fancied that he could be sure of his position in a critical situation when he went out of the country without any tools. Is that satisfactory?”
No. My expression and thoughts became cautious. Had my instincts been wrong? Had I wrongly trusted him? About to be betrayed, maybe he was the one who sabotaged the radio? “Who could possibly have seen the lights hundreds of miles out here?”
“With any luck, someone might see it, my friend.”
I raised my eyes and scrutinized them. “Wasn’t it you who signaled that guy in the helicopter, named Mendez? That’s right, isn’t it? It’s the only logical explanation.”
I stepped back, suddenly realizing the potential threat, that this man could very well be an associate of the drug lord, arms smuggler, and South American thief, and that I was pointing him in the direction of the road to Vicabamba. Damn, damn, damn, how could I have been so stupid! But I’d already given him the dagger?
He shook his head frowning as he stared at me, “You disappoint me Sidney, I thought you’d think better of me, do I look like the sort of man who tangles with Paraguay’s lackeys?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“Hasn’t the possibility occurred to you that our gentleman who talks about penises as he walks, Rory, fired his rifle the other day, and that he went off alone was a signal to our trackers in order to let them know they were getting too close to us, huh?”
I shrugged my shoulders, just a tiny bit convinced, persuaded, but hopefully catching him in the act, “So how did Rory get hurt… Keep in mind, he had a cut on his cheek.”
“Anything could have caused this, probably a branch that hit him in the face with a backward swipe. To hell with it, I don’t want to stand here thinking of possible explanations, and whether you believe me or not, I’m not bothered by a road or any other personal reason. You are confused because of me, dear Sidney, dear Sidney…”
He followed his performance by chanting every long, tedious syllable of “There’s a Hole in My Boat,” not in the correct order.
He’s right. I’m mesmerized by him. I know.
The rest of the day passed almost in silence. I was suspicious, and I found myself constantly monitoring everything he did, while analyzing the unsettling elements of his behavior through the slightest quirk.
It was raining, and before darkness fell the gloom slowly fell below the long green dome of foliage. We no doubt felt very sad when we camped and our attempts to make something to eat out of dry flour resulted in complete failure. He frowned at me for my complete lack of cooking skills.
I frowned just as much: “Trust me with a man who doesn’t know how to cook you can only move forward slowly, boo, really!”
The hours were ticking by slowly, and I did as Matson had done and lay down to get ready for bed. But the raindrops were so heavy and fell with such a powerful thud on top of our shelter that I just couldn’t let go. I kept waiting for the next thud… and then the next.
Matson growled lowly, “If you don’t stop that levity, I’m going to strangle you, do you hear me?”
“Oh.”
“Counting.”
“No, I very much hate being busy counting raindrops.”
Ten minutes later, I guessed that in the darkness he turned his face toward me, and although I couldn’t see his face, I could feel his hot breath. “It would be nasty if you served to make me count them, too.”
I grinned in the darkness, feeling safe knowing he couldn’t see me.
“Stop laughing!”
My laughter was interrupted by his mouth. I couldn’t see how ugly he was in the darkness, his face was rough and uneven, all grown out whiskers, and in the darkness I had to admit that he kissed better than any other man on the planet, even Rory.
I kissed excitedly, beginning to sympathize with Masson under the layers of fallen leaves, and slowly but carefully moved my body closer to him, his erection impressive, my fingers eager, trying to make it swell a little larger, stroking delicately in order to keep the man who troubled me subdued, at my mercy. He held his breath and shuddered as I licked and sucked him gently in the darkness.
He couldn’t resist pushing me away with one hand. Unzipping his pants and yanking them off at the same time, he rolls me over onto my back and lies prone on the floor before placing his palms on my back and tugging and yanking hard on my shirt. His fingers were light as feathers and seemed so hard and strong as his palms slightly massaged my sloping back. Then he ran his hands over my somewhat damp back, ass and pussy.
I lay face down flat in the leafy thicket of the goat-toothed field thing and reached out with one hand to take hold of his now swollen and massive manhood, caressing and squeezing it possessively.
He stopped breathing. “Whore little vixen,” he whispered to himself against the back of my head while rubbing his fingers all around my body as he did so, stroking them lightly, making me even more damp down there. I lifted my hips seductively and pushed myself toward his fingers.
“Idiot…” one of my fingers traced over his glans.
“SNAKE…” He kissed the back of my head, licked and sucked my back, and kept his fingers caressing my ass and pussy, and slowly slid down to my pussy band, tweaking it gently, causing me to convulse violently.
“Bastard…”
“Siren…” the tongue slid down to the center of my buttocks, finally stopping at the door of female pleasure it had just discovered, and burying itself all the way in, it flooded away all at once. I gasped, my nipples so stiff and hard, all sorts of passionate feelings. Just one thrust made me want to scream with pleasure, and then he leaned over me, one hand sliding silently down my front side, kind of caressing my nipples while thrusting his erect, hard manhood into my cunt without hesitation.
I was drenched with rain and warmed by the humidity, and his naked flesh bent over me with intense possessiveness, making me savor the most delightful, marvelous, and agreeable sensations a man could give. I must have been mad.
He jerked and stroked sickeningly violently, one hand covering a breast and constantly brushing the firm nipple, wanting me like a male dog to a female dog. Of course it wasn’t as rough as that, he was gentler, he was making love.
“Male dog…”
“Bitch…”
“You’ve already used that word,” I remind him. Trying to win back my ego while being hopeful that Matson will add some romance.
“You’re the devil,” he whispered close to my ear, “Shut up Sidney, I’m not in the mood for mutual insults.”
“But you’ve already started!” I yelled down, pretending to be indignant.
“I don’t want to argue,” he responded, and to my great consternation, he clamped one hand over my mouth, “It’s better this way.”
I was still making snarky remarks, but his hand squeezed so tightly that all that came out was a vague buzzing sound. I gave in and magnanimously conceded defeat, my whole body overflowing with unbridled joy. I even wanted to come again with Mr. Matson, and by then my mind had other tricks up its sleeve, like harder, deeper, yes, oh yes. I couldn’t hold it any longer, the orgasm was coming, oh, now, now.
My body stretches, my lungs heavy with ragged breaths.
Matson was gradually reaching his climax as well, jerking violently and moaning against my neck as his hips pushed hard and his cock spasmed uncontrollably inside me. He was panting sharply, and as that pleasing ebb and flow faded, he collapsed, and the hot, sticky, moist, fresh love juice that we had both made together flowed out into the lush green foliage below. Then we fell effortlessly and soundly asleep, our strength and energies exhausted after being fully expended, no longer aware of the still-dripping raindrops.
Oh, it tasted great! Chocolate is second only to sex, my favorite thing in the world, and it was with some unease that I ate another piece, letting it slowly melt in my mouth and smear on my tongue.
Masson chopped ahead, sawing sympathetically and slowly through the tough vines and branches with my dagger, hands bruised and bloodied.
Just now, I took refuge behind a tree to relieve myself, and I must have delayed for a longer period of time to make him turn back to me.
I quickly and lightning fast hid the rest of the chocolate bar behind my back, trying my best to put on an innocent expression.
He was frowning and sweating, his bearded and mustached face reddened with exertion. “What are you doing?
”
“Nothing, just sitting for a while,” “Really?” He raised one eyebrow. “And what’s that corner of your mouth?”
Immediately I lifted one hand to wipe away the reveal, and the wrapper on Cadburgh’s end made a metallic-like rustle behind me as he grabbed that hand and wiped the corner of my mouth with one injured finger, then leaned in close to look very carefully at the knee and licked it.
“Chocolate! Where the hell did you get that.”
“It was in my backpack. I only just realized it, and had forgotten all about it, really.”
“My sincere woman! You knew it was sitting there, you just didn’t want to share it, did you? You vile thief, you wanted to eat alone.”
I stormed up in a flash, my wildly rising exasperation outweighing my earlier uneasiness. “So what? It’s my stuff, I brought it from England and went through a lot of trouble to bring it here. Besides, I hate to share it with you.”
“Really?” He countered, his eyes cold.
“Yes.” We both glared at each other as you glared at me and I glared at you angrily, “It wasn’t even my fault, didn’t you lose your backpack yourself?”
“I didn’t lose it, as you well know.”
“Okay strike that, so you don’t want a backpack now, do you?”
“No…” he hesitated, then scoffed, determined not to let me get the upper hand, as all men are, unable to tolerate decisive words from a woman. “Come and look this way,” he said insultingly, “your reasoning is not at all reasonable, and you know that, if I am blazing a trail through the jungle for both of us, then you should at least share your rations equally.”
“Equal shares of my rations, yes, chocolate, no.”
He grabbed the chocolates and forcibly took them from me, and then all at once he stuffed all the chocolates, which had not yet been stripped of their dark blue foil, into his mouth. At first, I fought with him, but when I saw that the chocolates were all gone, and that he was devouring and chewing on his own booty, all I could do was to stare at him with dumbfounded and extreme hatred, with my mouth slightly open…
“Ah, it’s wonderful, it’s just wonderful,” he drooled, his gentle voice coming from a tongue that was being covered in chocolate, his eyes rolling upward in feigned ecstasy, leaving him with nothing but white orbs.
“You bastard.” I was so angry I was on the verge of tears.
Seeing my grief, he laughed harder, “When we return to the city, I’ll buy you a box of chocolates every week to keep you going.”
I stomped my foot as hard as I could and shrilly intoned, “I hope you choke on chocolate! I hate you!”
“That’s a novel idea,” he smiled smugly her while he was thinking hard.
“I hate you,” I cursed heavily again so he could hear me better.
He swallowed the last bit of chocolate in his mouth and nodded his head with unconscious gratitude, “Fantastic.”
In my irritation, I wanted to suddenly grab him by the testicles and drive away his sardonic grin in a most accurate way.
But he saw through my intentions and scurried away with quick movements and a chittering sound from his mouth. “Ouch, you’re an outlawed little she-wolf, Sidney.”
I gasped with my mouth hanging open.
“I wish I could stop saying you hate me, I’m tired of hearing it, besides it always feels the same.”
“No. You could never hate me as much as I hate you!” I declared righteously.
“Sure?” He giggled.
“Yes.” I giggled triumphantly.
I tried desperately to control this sudden outburst of laughter, but because it was so sudden I could hardly contain myself. I had to stick to this extremely hateful guy. Simply because he was pestering me, I expected him to laugh until his mind cleared.
He stretched his arms around me in a passionate embrace. I hooked my arms around his neck as if coated in Power Gel, and we kissed passionately, and yes, I know that analogy isn’t very romantic, our bodies squeezing, our desires rising, and we fumbled with buttons and zippers, each pulling our pants down, and then he lifted me up for me to slide against his aroused flesh, rubbing close to that firm manhood, stimulating my clitoris to a state of craving for indulgence.
I wrapped my arms around his neck even harder as he lifted me up once more, strong, powerful hands covering my hips before slowly lowering himself again in order to align his manhood with the door of my pussy, immensely aroused with a kind of slippery love juice easing upwards as he stood unsteadily impaling himself on the source of my pleasure, the tendons in his neck bulging with effort with each inch of advancement, his dark eyes glittering with passion.
He moved to the nearest tree, put my back against it, and fucked me like an animal in heat, a low growl coming from his throat with each powerful jerk, making me whoop and holler with excitement. We climaxed almost immediately, without a break in the shouting and growling, and the excitement of the orgasm was so great that it scared the birds out of the bushes.
Three days later we were lying shoulder to shoulder prone on the back of a jutting rock, and no one spoke. For we were purposefully watching the very slowly advancing, weary, four-man squad below.
Rory carried his rifles, one slung over his shoulder by a strap, the other gripped tightly in his hand, pointing ahead, looking cautious and weary, but pressing on with no nagging with those three.
The jungle was now becoming sparser, and in the rocky and ridge-poor areas grew a few extremely vigorous plants, rooted in the crevices of the rocks. In the distance, the pale blue, mist-covered Andes made a most spectacular backdrop. Ahead of them, always hidden in a vast sea of forest, is the Vicar Bamba. Now that we were approaching, perhaps only a day and a half away, I always kept this secret in the back of my mind, for I had never trusted Masson.
“Margaret is still carrying my backpack. What a nice girl, at least I have someone to take care of my camera and stuff.” Matson said quietly.
I wanted to say something snarky to him, but there was too much going on in my head. It was heartbreaking that Carla was leading the way with the lightest luggage on her back, and now it seemed she was the most important. But she was on the right path. I can’t deny that.
I have the feeling that any woman who wears the mask develops a state of mind similar to that of Carla and myself, as if it were to bestow the ancient secret indiscriminately on each wearer. However, it affects each person differently, and I certainly don’t consider myself to be as self-aggrandizing and irritating as Carla. Note that Masson would probably disagree.
“They look very tired,” he said. “There must not have been enough food.”
I nodded quietly and moved. Something rumbled beneath me. I gave Mason a strange, worried look, followed by a yelp of horror as the rock beneath me shattered and began to slide, cracking neatly.
Masson rushed to grab me but it was too late. The four men below threw back their heads together and screamed in shock, seeing me appear before them in such an odd way, and Rory immediately aimed his gun at Masson.
“Come down, Matson.”
Faced with the barrel of a gun, Masson had no choice. Meanwhile, I struggled to make my way up the slope after rolling down it like a very solid snowball. I couldn’t see anything through the rising dust that engulfed me. I kept coughing on my staff, almost choking, and at the same time was amazed to find that I was unharmed except for a fingernail.
“Sidney,” Martha exclaimed affectionately, reaching out her arms around me, and as I blinked to clear the dust from my eyes, she said, “Thank God you’re safe, because Jack…” she didn’t allow herself to say the word “dead… She didn’t let herself say the word “death.
“We’ve been very sad.”
“The truth is I’m fine, Martha. It’s just that inspiration told me that Masson wasn’t dead, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest until I found the answer. Now you see…”
Rory kept his rifle aimed at Matson, who with extreme caution made his way down the gravelly slope where a landslide had just occurred.
“You’re not alone any more, my dear,” said Rory, speaking to me like a father to a foolish daughter who has been spoiled by his own, “this man is a nuisance, and he has been signaling Mendez and his associates with a flare, and he is the spy.”
Explanations like this one sound logical. I believed in Lori very much and still hold that special passion for him.
“I don’t want to kill him, you must believe me, I just want to keep him still so that he is no longer a threat. You’re a smart woman, you must understand why I did what I did.”
I nodded, implying that it was devious to do so. Matson gazes at me with complete contempt as Rory hands the rifle to Carla and quickly binds the photographer’s hands behind his back.
“Keep an eye on him, dear Kara,” Rory ordered. “I have a word with Sidney in private.” He led me out of their sight and hearing.
“Darling,” he exclaimed, stretching his arms around me, much to my shock. “Honey, thank God nothing happened between you and him, you’re still safe and sound, why on earth would you do that?”
“As I told Martha it was just a hunch.” I restated, feeling very uncomfortable in his arms. I then pulled out as much as I could, not a lot, maybe an inch, and suddenly I felt as if I was suffocating. Rory shook his head with obvious melancholy. “What if something happened to you…”
“But nothing happened. I’m right here, safe and intact.”
“And he…?” He mumbled a little in his desire to speak, and didn’t ask again, but he wanted to know everything else.
“Are you asking if I had sex with him?”
He nodded, “I hate to ask, but…”
“Yes, we had intercourse, Lori. These things happen in these dim days when you can’t have a TV or a stereo.” I replied nonchalantly.
“Poor baby, you talk so strong, but I understand that in reality you are a delicate little woman.
What did he do? When did he do it?”
There was something highly unappealing in his voice and in his question. “I’d rather not talk about it.
”
“I could kill him,” he declared solemnly, with exaggerated jealousy.
Ringing the alarm, “I think that was a bit much, he didn’t rape me, I wanted it.”
“Did he make you scream like I did when I fucked you? Did his lips worship your pussy lips?
”
Oh, this was getting creepy. I found it hard not to let my contempt show, despite realizing it was best to be at his mercy at the moment, his hands caressing me, his mouth kissing my forehead, my ears, arching the back of my neck with his nose. I feigned the need to cough up the cane when he attempted to kiss my lips.
“It’s normal for him to have intercourse with me, there’s nothing the least bit peculiar about it.”
“I hate to think about it, his hands on you, his fingers inside you, his cock thrusting strongly into you, controlling you. You are mine, I love you Sidney, I want you to be my wife.”
His hand groped blindly between us, stroking and pressing against the soft bulge between my legs through the impenetrable pants, his chest squeezing my breasts. He kissed me hard and furiously as if he were hurt, his teeth clenching possessively on my lips, and I was at his mercy, senseless. Undoubtedly even more reluctant to fuck, even though it was obvious he wanted to do it. He did his best to cling to my abdomen, his cock incredibly hard and full of desire against my belly, his tongue sliding over my lips.
I pushed him away and wiped my mouth, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do it, this isn’t the time, I’m too tired and dizzy, I’m not against it, not now.”
He slowly got his emotions under control, looking a little hurt, but better than I expected, and hugged me lovingly and tightly before letting go, all the while nodding, “That’s right, I understand, let’s forget about this instantly. I’m so bad at caring, simply because I love you so much. Surely you can see that, can’t you?”
“Of course. I’m simply a little flattered, Lori, just please give me some time.”
“Take as long as you want.” He reassured again, while extending an arm to pat me as if we were the best of mates.
We walked calmly back to camp. I could see Matson staring at me the moment I appeared, and I could almost hear his head spinning. It didn’t take us long at all, let alone time to have intercourse. He had a cold expression on his face, but I was going to find out the truth anyway.
Rory hooked a finger in Kara’s direction and whispered something in her ear, and then the two of them walked away, going a short distance away to hide behind the thick branches of a tree, out of sight of the rest of us. As for what they were doing, there was no doubt that it was that again. Rory needed a woman, and he couldn’t get me, so he signaled with Carla again.
I could hear their very muffled noises, the low sounds a woman makes when a man is stirring inside her, and could see them both through intent eyes, Carla on her knees and Rory fucking her from behind as if it were his hobby. The more I thought about it, the more I felt my body burn, and the more I realized that I had probably been foolish to reject the desirable Rory out of hand.