The pirogue drifts low. Engine hums soft. Howler monkeys scream from the canopy. Aras screech sharp. River laps hull. I slide close to Diego. Thigh touches thigh. Heat rises. My hand creeps up his leg. Fingers slip under short. Grip his thickening cock. Hard. Hot. Pulsing. He tenses. Eyes dart to shore. ‘Cass, tribes watch,’ he whispers. Jungle hides us. Night falls soon. Everyone sleeps but us. I squeeze. ‘Deal’s on. Pilvajõ tomorrow.’ He groans low. Animals cover it. Shorts tent. I tug elastic. Cock springs free. Dark shaft. Carmine head. Balls tight. Smooth. I lick lips. Risk buzzes. Any canoe spots us? Heart thumps.
Kneel between legs. Boat rocks gentle. Waves slap wood. Creak. Creak. Pull shirt off. Tits bounce free. Nipples hard. Caramel peaks. He grabs one. Pinches. I moan muffled. Monkeys howl louder. Good cover. Tongue flat on shaft base. Drag up slow. Saliva trails. Circle head. No suck yet. Tease. He bucks. ‘Porra.’ Fingers in balls. Roll soft. Suck one. Pop. Wet smack drowned by birds. Engine idles. He kills it. Silence hits. Just river gurgle. Jungle roar. Boat grinds sandbank. Jolt. Cock hits throat. Gagging? No. Deep. Hold. Eyes water. His hand fists hair. Thrust shallow. Shore dark. Leaves rustle. Eyes there? Fuck the risk. Turns me on. Spit drools. Shaft gleams. Index probes ass. Tight ring. Push in. He jerks. ‘Cass!’ Voice cracks. Whimpers echo soft. Monkeys answer.
The Contact
Pump hard. Lips seal. Vacuum suck. Head swells. Veins throb. Balls draw up. Finger twists deep. Prostate nudge. He shudders. Rope one. Thick. Salty. Gulp. Two. Swallow. Three. No spill. Hold till dry. Tongue cleans. Pop free. Gasp. He slumps. Chest heaves. ‘Foda-se, best ever.’ I grin. Wipe mouth. Nipples throb. Pussy aches. No time. Kiss rough. Tongues clash. Bite lip. Pull back. ‘Later, beach.’ He nods dazed. Finger out. He winces. Pleasure echo. Boat stuck. Sand sucks hull. Push together. Grunt. Slide free. Engine roars. River current pulls. Heart hammers. Secret safe? Tribes sleep. No lights. No canoes. Glide to beach. Cabane waits. Source bubbles. Night wraps us. Neighbors—monkeys, birds—scream on. Our sin buried. For now.