“Damn it, Howard, I’m talking,” Cynthia said, tearing her breast from his mouth with force. The sudden decrease in suction resulted in a loud popping sound that echoed through their small tent. Howard wondered if anyone else had heard it, suddenly excited by the prospect of their companions, specifically Cliff Parker and the jungle men, listening in on their lovemaking.
“I’m listening, honey. Just trying to help you relieve some stress. You know how you get.” He did his best to look apologetic and harmless.
“I don’t carry my stress in my tit, Howard! If you want to help, rub my feet!” At that, she stretched her legs out and dropped her sweaty feet right onto Howard’s lap, hitting him right in the erection. He grimaced in pain before he began to methodically squeeze his wife’s feet.
“Is that better, baby?” he asked. His wife said nothing. Taking that as a sign that her temper was cooling, he gently rubbed her foot with his engorged member, hoping to entice her into fornication.
“Not so much thumb,” Cynthia snapped, shriveling Howard. He inhaled deeply and, for a moment, wished he was in someone else’s tent. “How are all of these bugs getting in here, anyway?”
Cynthia slapped insistently at her skin; the welts were plentiful. “Goddamnit. Where is the bug spray?”
“I’m not sure,” Howard said, puzzled.
“It’s in the bag outside,” Cynthia said. “Go get it.”
“Wait,” Howard said, rummaging through the small bag next to him. “Here’s some!”
Cynthia frowned. “I don’t like that kind. I want the other one.”
“What’s wrong with this?” Howard Bush asked. The insect spray looked plenty lethal to him.
“I don’t like the smell. Mine smells more like cherries. Just go,” she ordered. Howard gestured to his nudity, trying in vain to get out of this silly task and into his wife’s vagina. “No one’s going to notice. Trust me.”
Cynthia unzipped the tent and gestured to Howard that he should exit.
What a bitch, Howard thought. He looked down for his penis, but was unable to see it. Cynthia was probably right, though it was awful of her to say so. He crawled out onto the dirt and gave the camp a cursory glance. The place was still and eerily quiet. There should be some sound, perhaps gentle Mexican words or snoring or something.
He stood to his full height and relished the feeling of a slight breeze. Quickly, he spotted the bag near the campfire, the place it had been put to keep bears away from it. He walked toward it, but stopped when he heard a sound.
He could hear a woman’s soft moaning, and, as he paid closer attention, a wet slapping sound.
Testicles, Howard thought.
Abandoning his primary objective, he followed the sound to its source. Sure enough, one of his companions had abandoned his tent in favor of moving into Amanda Handy’s. He pressed his ear to the canvas and listened.
“Ooh,” Amanda said breathily. He also heard the deep grunting of Cliff Parker. So that’s who was having sex in the tent!
He searched the jungle floor until he found a pointed stick. With it, he carefully punctured the fabric of the tent. Slowly, he slipped his finger in and widened the hole. When he pulled it out again, he had a very clear view of everything going on inside of the tent, even though it was rather dark.
Thank God for my good vision, Howard thought. He pressed his eye to the hole and watched. Amanda Handy was on her hands and knees, and Cliff Parker was busily slamming his rod into her flower. Howard began to salivate as he watched Cliff’s enormous shaft plunge in and out like a pipe snake unplugging a persistent clog. His own modestly sized sausage began to grow to fit its casing and, before long, he was stroking it. Since he didn’t have the benefit of Amanda Handy’s vaginal mucous, he spat onto his hand to aid in the effort.
To hell with Cynthia! he thought.
In almost no time at all, as was customary with him, Howard felt the need for release rushing upon him. He did some quick and deft calculations with his eyes, and, at the last possible moment, shoved his dick through the tent hole. He pumped vigorously as he ejaculated.
“Oh,” Amanda cooed. “That’s okay, baby.”
Howard’s heart leapt. He’d hit her!
He peeked through the hole and saw the woman laying on her back (she must have quickly changed positions), his own chunky sperm splashed across her heaving breasts. Her eyes were shut tight with ecstasy, as were Cliff’s. Howard smiled to himself and watched until Cliff pulled his thing, it really was huge, from its cave and let her rip all over everything inside of the tent. It was as if he was peeing.
“Twice, Cliff?!” Cynthia exclaimed, impressed.
Cliff had no idea what she was talking about, but didn’t want to spoil the mood. “I guess that makes two of us,” he finally said.
Howard stood and went back to the bag, confident that he had caught all the action that was to be had in that particular tent. He felt his own manhood coming back to life. Perhaps he’d still be able to coax the wife into a little action, maybe bribe her or something. He reached down into the bag and unzipped it, pulling out a can of bug spray. He couldn’t help but whistle to himself as he worked, so happy was he at his most recent achievement.
When he reached down to zip the bag back up, his hand accidentally brushed the bug spray, which sprayed him right in the dick.
“Shit!” he cursed. “Cynthia will never let me anywhere near her if my crotch smells like that!”
Not thinking, he hustled to the water hastily. He dropped to his knees in the mud and frantically splashed water on the afflicted member. Luckily for him, the water wasn’t very cold. But unluckily for him, it was filled with ferocious piranhas!
Chapter 4
That’s when he felt the rows of steel incisors bite down, a brutal and haphazard circumcision in the middle of the jungle. Blood shaded the water crimson as the man screamed and stood up suddenly, then lost his balance because his pajama bottoms were around his ankles. Howard fell backwards onto his back, the piranha lost its grip, the incisors letting go as the fish flipped into the grass, unseen in the darkness.
Howard watched as blood rapidly sprayed from his damaged member. It was as if he was peeing.
Howard began crying, tears forming in his chubby eyes. Just then, a piranha flipped out of the grass and clamped its dozens of mean little teeth down on the end of his tongue.
Years of eating sushi, Howard thought sadly, and now the sushi is eating me!
Howard rolled around in the grass, unable to scream any longer with a fish forcing its way deeper into his mouth. The light of the moon reflected on his pale skin. He looked like a baby beluga whale that had somehow washed up on the shore of a freshwater river in the middle of the South American jungle.
Howard wondered why nobody reacted to the screams he had emitted before a fish got his tongue. The tents were all silent. He could faintly hear Amanda and Cliff going at it again. Amanda’s voice giggled and Howard wished he and Cliff’s places could be switched. He’d much rather the end of his penis be in Amanda than in a fish’s digestive tract.
Finally, he woke up. Howard sat up, sweat coating his body. He dabbed it from his forehead with the shirt he’d worn yesterday, which was practically soaked anyway from the thick humidity in the jungle.
He lifted the sleeping bag, looking down to see if his family heirlooms were still intact.
He couldn’t see over his belly, not to mention it was dark, so he instead checked with his hand. Yep, everything still there. But, that must mean that nothing from last night actually happened! He hadn’t fought with his wife; he hadn’t jerked off on Amanda; he hadn’t actually done anything at all!
Howard stood up, trying to shake off the vividness of that dream. He pulled off the cap of his pajamas and rolled over to see one of those little Mexicans having sex with his wife!
Amanda had spent all night thinking about the past. Some nights, when the wind was cool like this, it made her think back to her days as a secret agent in
the U.S.S.R. Those long nights under the gleaming moon as she traversed across frosty planes, making her way into the nearest encampment of enemy soldiers. It was often brisk like this back then.
She remembered the way she used to cross those frosty planes, thinking back on her first true romance, that first man she’d ever loved, Bradley. The best secret agent she knew. How he could break into the enemy silos and gun down ten men before they even realized he was there. The way he could blend in no matter where they went; he always seemed to know the language and the customs, no matter how odd and obscure the people they were blending in with. She had a nickname for him: Ghost. Because he blended in like a spirit that was impossible to see.
Now, if there was a Bradley at all, he certainly was a ghost. . . literally. He’d lost his balance while in combat on the top of a levee, and had plunged a good long distance into the frothy water at the bottom. There was no way he survived that fall. No way, period. She was absolutely certain.
Yet she wondered sometimes.
With Bradley, sometimes she truly felt like she was back home, in that home that had been shattered when she was only four. She only had photographs of her parents and her three older siblings to remember them by, since they all died in that horrific train accident in Berkley. On her birthday. She’d barely survived the accident herself and was on life support for six months before they moved her to the orphanage.
Maybe surviving the incident had been a birthday present from God, but she often wondered if it was just random chance that had torn her family from her.
But being with Bradley made her feel like she’d found a new home. And walking those planes in the U.S.S.R. right before infiltrating an enemy silo made her think back on those good times with Brad. And this brisk wind was reminding her of walking those planes.
She heard a voice outside of her tent, and she hurriedly put out the joint she’d been smoking. “What is it?” she whispered.
It was Cliff’s baritone voice. “Psst,” he said. “Are you asleep?”
Amanda feigned having just woken. “Not anymore, obviously.”
“Good,” Cliff said, his voice filled with the confidence of a man with perfect hair. “I couldn’t sleep, either. Maybe we should take a little walk, you know, around the perimeter. We can make sure those Pocahontases aren’t sneaking up on us, or whatever they were called.”
Amanda laughed; the joke Cliff had made was funny. “I guess we could,” she said, remembering her plan not to fall in love while out on this jungle expedition. If she failed at not falling in love, that would be just one more thing on a long list of failures that was stacking up ever higher. She sighed and got up, putting on a t-shirt and pants.
Climbing from the tent, Cliff watched her. She was ridiculously good looking, but there was more to her than that. That’s why he liked her. She had an aura of mystery around her, invisible to most, but not to Cliff Parker. He knew a mystery was contained in her; this was a woman with a past.
“Let’s go,” she said with a breathtaking smile, long tendrils of hair draping seductively over her face.
Cliff watched her walk for a moment, smiling. The inside was a great mystery, but the outside of the package was worth some exploration, too.
Cliff lit a cigarette and offered one to Amanda. She declined, brushing her hair back, then crossing her arms as if she were cold. The night was frigid, and much windier than it had been in her tent.
Cliff slid his jacket off and draped it around her shoulders. The action was so natural, so thoughtless, like he could tell what she was thinking without even asking. She blushed a little at how good walking with Cliff felt. She hoped she wasn’t falling for him.
“What are you running from?” Cliff asked thoughtfully.
Amanda sighed. “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay,” Cliff said with a shrug. “Do you know how gorgeous you are when you wear those pants?”
Amanda giggled. “Umm, on second thought, let’s talk about you instead.”
Cliff shrugged and said, “There’s no way I would fit into those pants, and even if I could, I wouldn’t do them justice.”
Amanda laughed. Cliff was a lot of fun to be with. “Maybe you aren’t giving yourself enough credit,” she said.
Cliff smirked playfully. “I do believe you’re flirting with me,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting that, honestly.”
Amanda shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You definitely started the flirting; I just joined in a little.”
Cliff smiled, shaking his head. She was so mysterious, and he had so much more to learn about her. He almost couldn’t wait to keep talking.
She put her hand on his marbled chest, leaning in and kissing him gently on the lips. She didn’t know why, but it just felt like the right thing. Like when he put the jacket on her without asking. It was all very natural, and very right.
That’s when a spear hit a tree right beside them! Danger was about to happen!
Chapter 5
“Sorry about that, pendajos!” one of their Ecuadorian guides commented, rushing by them to retrieve his pointed stick.
“What the hell, man?” Cliff Parker said with feeling, a rush of anger forcing its way out of him like a premature ejaculation.
So Cliff Parker can lose his cool, Amanda thought to herself, shivering with delight. She felt a warmth spreading through her body and suddenly wanted to be naked and writhing against this man once more. Although she hadn’t been naked and writhing against him, because that was in Howard’s dream.
“I thought I saw a lizard,” the man said, shrugging.
“A lizard!? You almost killed us in order to kill a lizard?” Cliff said.
Vegas shrugged once more and tugged the spear from the tree. He nodded to each of them and ambled off into the bushes, presumably to hunt for more lizards.
“What does he even want lizards for?” Amanda couldn’t help but ask. Her heart was pounding after the altercation, more from lust than fear of death. She scolded herself for not keeping her sex drive in check. It was a curse to be a woman!
“Who the hell knows?” Cliff Parker said, sighing. He gave Amanda a quick side hug to settle her down, not knowing that the close proximity to his hulking frame was having the opposite effect. “He probably wanted to eat it.”
Amanda stifled a giggle.
“What?” Cliff asked. “What is it?”
“Nothing, it’s just that you suggested that he wanted to eat the lizard. It sounded like...oh, never mind.” Amanda blushed.
“No! Tell me!” Cliff demanded, a look of excitement literally lighting his eyes on fire. Amanda paused. They both knew what it would mean if she explained her dirty joke. It would mean that she wanted to have sex with him, and she wasn’t ready for that. Not now; not ever.
“No, Cliff,” Amanda said quietly.
“Oh, come on! Tell me!”
“I said no, Cliff!” she snapped, covering her breasts with crossed arms. Cliff’s eyes widened at the sudden outburst and his penis became as stiff as a week old squirrel carcass. Amanda was a hot one. But how would he ever break through the walls she had erected around herself?
Cliff Parker wasn’t the only one having trouble with women. Twenty feet away, Mr. Bush was dealing with another woman’s frigidness: his wife.
“Get away from me, Howard,” Cynthia said. “You haven’t bathed since yesterday. You’re not coming anywhere near me.”
“Baby, you’ve got to help me out. I’ve got semen poisoning. I had such nightmares last night because of my sexual frustration. You’re my wife; putting out is in your job description.”
“Oh, I’ll put out all right. I’ll put your doughy ass outside of the tent.”
“Please? I’m begging you,” he whined.
Cynthia reached into her sequined purse and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. She tossed it to him, where it fell to the ground at his feet. “Here. Go find yourself a nice tree hole.
” With that, she ambled into their tent and zipped up the door.
Why did I marry such a bitch? Howard wondered. He stalked away from the tent, sunscreen in hand. He had no intention of screwing a tree as his whore wife had instructed, but he didn’t see the harm of bringing it along just in case. The sun might break through the trees, after all, and he wouldn’t want to be caught unawares. He strode over to the river and caught sight of his reflection. He suddenly remembered why he’d married such a bitch: he was an unattractive man.
Howard sighed. He stuffed the bottle into his pocket and wandered along the riverside, looking for pennies.
“Is that Paconas, compadre?” Fidel asked of Vegas.
“Yessir,” Vegas replied, his tone evident.
“Shit.”
The two of them were crouched over the corpse of a dead jungle pigeon. Its body, complete with a three-foot wingspan, looked almost majestic laying motionless on the ground, its entrails spread about randomly.
“It looks like El Christo,” remarked Vegas.
“Domo!” Fidel scolded. “Take that back! That’s bad fucking luck to speak ill of the savior like that.”
“I wasn’t speaking ill!”
“Just take it back, already.”
“Pendajo, I’m not going to. I was not saying anything bad; I was just talking.”
Fidel brandished his hand like an iron hammer. He threatened to hit Vargas with it. He said, “Just take it back, already.”
Vegas stood and took a few steps back.
“No.”
Fidel’s eyes narrowed. “Do it.”
“No,” Vegas said.
Fidel bit his lip, eyeing the other man like a fish. Should he press it? Was it worth the fight? Yes, damnit! Yes, it was!
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