In the Jungle Ch. 01

I'm declaring a contest of my own... of sorts. If you go to my author's page, I have submitted the first chapter of 3 stories on the same day (10/30/15). I will write and post the next chapter of the highest rated story every week or two (or maybe three) until all the stories are done.

These should all be pretty short stories, around 3-4 chapters. If there is one or more stories that aren't well received (less than 4.25 rating), I will post a summary and ending to them, so that those readers who liked that story aren't left wondering what happens next.

If you really like this or the other stories and want to read more, please vote 5-stars, so that I know and will keep it going. If you hate it and want to save others from the pain you've felt, I'm giving you the power to make it stop. I also enjoy reading your comments, so feel free to tell me what you thought of the story, or what's on your mind.

Thanks for reading!

***Bret***

I was a second year graduate student, when I traveled to western Amazonas, Brazil to collect mayfly specimens for my graduate project. I was part of a group of researchers looking to make our discoveries in this remote corner of the world. We had met in the capital of Brasilia where we took a crash course in rainforest survival and then signed our life away agreeing to the government's terms of the scope of our research.

We spent 3 days in the capital getting acquainted with our fellow researchers and learning about the hundreds of painful ways to die in the jungles of the deepest Amazon.

After Brasilia, we flew on a small prop-plane into Tabatinga, Brazil on the border where Columbia, Peru and Brazil all met. I was young, single, and a fairly outgoing man. Along with me on the expedition were three dozen other graduate students from all over the world, along with a few professors, and some government officials from Brazil.

I had gotten to know some of the ladies of our expedition while in the capital, and on the ground in Tabatinga, I had turned up my efforts and charms. My odds were good. Of the 30 students on this trip, there were only ten other men, and 29 women. Seven of those women had husbands, fiancés, or serious boyfriends, so I focused my efforts on the remaining 22 women.

My competition was light. Six of the men were similarly attached, which left Paulo - a Brazilian, Michél - a Frenchman, and Samuel - my fellow American. There was only one other American with us on the trip, Annabeth. I spoke decent Spanish, at a conversational level, but not fluent. I was able to understand less than a fifth of the Brazilian's Portuguese, but I was a hit with the Latin American women in the restaurant the first night, flirting my best in their native tongues.

We single people all went out to dinner together. The plan for the next day was to separate into two groups and go to our respective field stations, mine along a tributary of the amazon in the far west, and the other group would travel south. I made sure to pay extra attention to the women who I would not be spending the next 2 months living and working with.

I was a decent looking guy, 22 years-old, and I worked out enough that I felt confident with my shirt off. One woman in particular, Marisol, from Mexico City was especially interested in me and we flirted shamelessly. Like me, she was an entomologist. We were both studying phylogenetic (DNA) relationships among our bugs, discovering family trees among different species.

We talked about the similarities and differences in our programs, and then shifted to talking about families, pets, homes and undergraduate work. She was as interested in me as I was in her.

Marisol spoke English as well as I spoke Spanish, and between the two languages, we were able to communicate freely and laugh at each other's jokes, switching constantly between languages. The look in her eyes and her body language was clear, even to a slow man like me. It started with little touches, and then grew to arms around shoulders, and finally we were clinging to one another.

After dinner, the single people all agreed to go out on a bar crawl, but we gave up after only 5 bars, when we found a nightclub playing live music. I danced with Marisol for over an hour, attempting to copy whatever dancing styles the men and women around me were displaying. I failed miserably at dancing, but succeeded in my true mission, which was to show Marisol a good time, and leave her laughing and breathless at the end of each song.

We had just finished dancing to a song, and I stared right into her big brown eyes. She looked away for just a moment, and then looked back at me with a hunger that mirrored my own. I pushed a strand of her black hair behind her ear, and leaned in.

Marisol met my lips halfway. The kiss was tenuous at first. Her lips tensed, and I realized that mine were the same. I relaxed and parted my lips slowly. Marisol mirrored my actions, so I gently brought my tongue out to play. She responded by pushing her tongue into my mouth. Her hands crept down my back, until both gripped my ass. I kept one hand on her cheek, and let my other explore down her body and onto her cute butt. She was wearing a tight floral dress, which showed off her perfect body. I had not expected the firmness I found there, nor had I noticed before then that she wasn't wearing panties.

I squeezed her butt in my large hand, and my middle finger felt the wetness starting to run out from her center. She broke the kiss, and without a word she took my hand and led me out of the club as the next song started.

The two of us took a taxi back to our hotel, and luckily she spoke more Portuguese than I did. Between kisses, Marisol directed the driver where to go. On the short drive, we continued making out in the back seat, and my hand crept up her leg.

Marisol spread her legs wide, giving me full access to her wet pussy. I pushed one finger in, then a second. Her voice caught, and she stifled a low moan. The taxi driver swerved, and I broke the kiss long enough to notice that his eyes were not on the road.

I continued driving my fingers further into Marisol's wet center, ignoring the audience. I pushed deeper until I could feel the little knob of her cervix along the top. I brushed it several times with both fingers, and then settled into rubbing her g-spot. Marisol came hard and she filled my palm with her come.

I broke the kiss and cleaned my hand by licking it all off. She tasted earthy, and just a little sweet. I didn't think it was possible for this woman to get any more turned on, but my display drove her even more out of control. One of her hands was down my pants, grabbing at my erection, and the other grabbed my wet hand, licking her own juice off of me.

Around this time the taxi driver announced that we had arrived at our hotel. I handed him a few bills, said "obrigado!" (thanks!) and jumped out of the taxi, pulling Marisol with me. I glanced back and noticed that the cab driver had his cock out and in his hand as he pulled away. Marisol had my shirt off before we got though the security gate, and was working on my belt as I led us up the stairs. Two other women from the research group were sitting outside in the hotel's central courtyard talking, and stopped as Marisol continued her attempts to strip me as we stumbled through the door into her hotel room.

Once through the door, I turned on Marisol, and unzipped her dress. I pulled it over her head in one movement, and she kicked off her sandals. I held her hands, but took a step back to take in the beauty before me. She had not been wearing a bra, and her youthful B-cup breasts made almost perfect hemispheres, standing tall and perky on her chest. Her dark nipples stood out from small, dark areolas, and displayed just how turned on she was.

My eyes tracked down her flat stomach to her neatly trimmed pubic hair, and the shaved lips below.

Marisol gave me less than 5 seconds to admire her beauty before her hands grabbed the waistband of my jeans and pulled them down around my ankles along with my boxers. My cock jumped as it escaped from my pants. She was on it immediately, and it disappeared entirely into her mouth in seconds.

She skipped over the gentle teasing, and launched straight into a vigorous blowjob, and she looked so beautiful doing it. After nearly a minute, I realized that she was kneeling on the hard tiled floor, and I pulled her up to her feet. I removed my shoes and socks, and then pulled my pants the rest of the way off.

"I have a condom." She said in Spanish, and produced one from her luggage. I realized that I had forgotten to grab one from my room, and was grateful that she remembered. We worked together to slip it on me, then she pulled me onto the bed, with me falling on top of her. Marisol broke our kiss just long enough to guide me into her. Her pussy was running wet with her desire, and I slid all seven of my inches into her with one steady push. She gasped and I could feel the start of an orgasm building. Unlike in the cab, she made no attempt at silence as her pleasure built. I kissed her neck and nibbled her earlobe while pumping my hips in time to her pulsing.

Marisol's long scream turned into panting curses in Spanish, few of which I understood. I brought her down slowly from her orgasm, and read her body for cues as I adjusted angle, speed and the force of my strokes. Her lips met mine, and when she broke the kiss her eyes rolled back in her head, I knew I was on the right path, and I led her to a second screaming orgasm in the space of five minutes.

As I began driving her to her fourth orgasm of the night, she begged me in Spanish to finish with her. This time I paid attention to my own pleasure, driving into Marisol's wet pussy hard and fast. She was very vocal as she came, which took me to the edge and beyond. I buried my face in her long black hair, filling my lungs with the delicious floral and feminine scents therein. I reached my peak and screamed out my own cries into the pillow below her.

As I came down from my high, I rolled off of Marisol, removed the condom from my cock, and wrapped it up in a tissue from the bedside. Then I offered the box to Marisol, which she gratefully accepted. I lay on my back, and she laid her head on my shoulder, her arm across my chest, and one leg curled over my groin. I stared down at her beautiful caramel skin, her wavy black hair, and those beautiful black eyes which twinkled as they stared back into mine. Her face was permanently stuck in a toothy smile.

She got up, and I could hear her use the toilet, and running the water in the sink for a long time.

As soon as Marisol came back to bed, her hand was on my cock, and I could feel it rising again. Marisol wasted no time, pulling me to my feet by my newly erect cock. Once we were both standing, she fished another condom out of her bag and rolled it on using both hands. The animal lust in her eyes had not diminished one bit form our earlier peak.

Marisol bent over the bed, standing, but resting her forearms and forehead on the mattress. I took my cue and nestled my hard cock on her shining pussy lips. I eased myself in, and quickly had Marisol panting her way up to another orgasm. I lasted longer the second time, losing count of Marisol's orgasms, if there was even a break in between.

I crashed on top of her, humping into her firm, round butt as she screamed a string of Spanish curses into the mattress. I finally spent myself a second time into the condom inside her pussy. Once I stopped pulsing, Marisol threw me off of her and attacked my face with tongue and teeth.

"Never..." she said in her native tongue. "I've never been fucked like that." I just returned the kisses with her same ferocious intensity.

Marisol was done trying to speak English for the evening, so it fell to me to keep speaking Spanish, which was difficult in my tired state. Eventually we let our hands and lips do the talking, and 20 minutes after we last finished, my cock was beginning to come back around. Marisol was helping me along by rubbing her smooth leg up to my stomach, and down to my knees, occasionally reaching in to adjust or squeeze my cock with her hand.

When I reached the desired level of arousal, Marisol again skipped to her luggage, withdrew a third condom, and straddled me, so that her pussy was pushing my cock into my stomach. She slid up and down several times, producing plenty of lubrication and driving the last vestiges of softness from my manhood.

From my supine position, I was treated to the visual wonders of Marisol's beauty. Her breasts hung just inches from my face, and I carefully massaged and groped them, pulling and teasing the nipples. Marisol's long hair draped across her shoulder and over one breast, and I brushed it with my fingers, enjoying the silky smoothness and thickness of it.

Finally, Marisol rolled the condom onto my hard member and lifted up onto her knees so that she could guide me into her waiting slit. She slid down slowly until she bottomed out, exhaling with a thin blow as she did. Once I was all the way inside her, she fell forward onto my chest. I lifted my knees up and began thrusting up into her, slowly at first, then harder and faster as she began swiveling her hips in time with mine. I led her through another screaming orgasm, then she said "I can't take anymore" in Spanish. She climbed off of me, and rolled off the condom, then scooted down so her mouth was over my rod, and began blowing me. She showed an incredible talent, along with enthusiasm and speed, and in only another minute or two, my seed pulsed into her mouth.

She sucked on my cock head until the last pulses were finished, then stood up and ran to the bathroom to spit and brush her teeth.

I waited for her to return and could tell that she was thoroughly fucked for the night, and needed her sleep. She crawled across the bed to me, and kissed me for a moment before cuddling back into my shoulder.

This time she steered clear of my penis, but when she saw it beginning to re-inflate, she said in Spanish "We have an early morning and you are going to kill me if you keep this up."

"I understand" was my reply.

I gave her one final toe curling kiss, and stood to get dressed. Marisol watched me with lidded eyes, and was barely conscious as I kissed her goodnight.

Outside the room, the courtyard had cleared, and I thought I was alone. I walked along the second floor balcony towards my room, but noticed a person sitting in a chair next to a potted palm next door to Marisol's room. It was a woman. She was drinking a beer, and mostly hidden by shadows.

I recognized her as Annabeth, the only American woman on our expedition, and one of the two women sitting in the courtyard as Marisol and I had rushed up to her room.

I had no doubt that Annabeth had heard most of our interaction, if not the whole thing. I nodded to her and muttered good night, but she made no attempt to acknowledge me.

Back at my room, I stripped my clothes off, showered quickly, as there was no hot water in the hotel, and I climbed into bed, setting the alarm on my cell phone for 6am the following morning. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

***Annabeth***

The first time Annabeth saw Bret, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Tall, dark and handsome, there was an innocent kindness in his eyes. She caught herself staring at him all through the orientation in the capital, and thoroughly read everything about him that she could find.

There wasn't much to go on. There was a short bio and a picture for each researcher in a packet that she had received, and she read it several times. His picture did not do him justice. The lighting was terrible, and he was making a squinting face from too much sun. He was an entomologist, and his research seemed extremely complicated. Annabeth couldn't make sense of it, but she wanted to know more about the man.

Every chance she had to talk to him, he was caught up with someone, or someone would be talking to her. On the second day, she looked for him after leaving the last session for the day. Her heart fell as she didn't see him anywhere. She started to head for dinner when Michel, the French man from the expedition called her name. He introduced himself in heavily accented English.

He was kind of cute in a Euro-trash sort of way. 'Why put all my eggs in one basket?' she thought to herself and decided to try flirting with him.

"So you're French, huh? The language of love!" Annie threw in a little smile.

"Yes." He replied in French. "Do you speak my language?"

Annie had grown up in three French-speaking African countries. Her mother was a middle-level ambassador who was fluent, and Annie had been bilingual in English and French as long as she could speak. She almost jumped at the chance to speak with him, but decided to tease him.

"Hmm?" She asked. "I'm sorry... I..."

Michel interrupted her. "You're ass in so tight, the only way it would look better is covered in my cum!" He said in French.

Annabeth tried to not look shocked, and Michel smiled at her. "That means that I think you are a beautiful woman." He said in English. He stepped in and grabbed her bicep. Switching back to French he said. "Your tits are too small, but your mouth is fuckable."

Again, he switched to English for Annabeth's sake, stepping in even closer and whispering in her ear. "That means that I would love to take you out to dinner."

Annabeth knew self-protection. Her father was an Army ranger in charge of Embassy security, and she had drilled Judo and Kung-fu alongside the Army's own combat styles from an early age. Annabeth was tensing her body, getting ready to throw the pig into the most painful wristlock she could imagine when Bret came around the corner. Michel was still leaned in close, and it looked like they had been kissing. Annabeth was even angrier.

"Hey guys, we're all going out for some Churrasco downtown." Brett had said, looking embarrassed for breaking them up. "You two want to join us?"

Michel turned and said "That sounds good. We would love to join you."

"No!" Annabeth had finally found her voice. "No thank you." She said angrily and quickly used the distraction to move away.

"Alright." Bret had said once her back was turned. "Her loss." The words held a little extra sting coming from Brett. She wanted so badly to go out to dinner with Bret, and to learn everything she could about him, but that French pig had attached himself to her, and Bret had seen it. 'You two' he had said. Bret had invited Annabeth and Michel out as a couple.

Annabeth went to her room and struggled not to cry. She had almost beaten Michel up for what he had said, and he would have deserved it. He still didn't know that she had understood his French, but she didn't want to ever get caught alone with Michel again. He was a pig.

Annabeth looked through the station assignments that they had been given. Michel would be at the west station with her, but so would Bret. She just hoped that Michel hadn't blown it for her and Bret.

The rest of the time in the capital was a blur of classes and signing triplicates of documents she couldn't read, and she never caught Bret alone again. He was on her little commuter aircraft over to Tabatinga. One of the shorter women was struggling to stow her bag in the overhead bin, and she saw Bret stand and come help her. He did it without being asked, and he seemed to say something to her which made them both smile.

When the aircraft was unloading, he again helped her get her bag down, and even carried it for her off the plane and down the stairs, since it seemed too heavy for her. He was such a gentleman, and looked so hot doing it. Annabeth watched him the whole time. She loved his genuine smile and the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched under his t-shirt while he effortlessly lifted the bag.