Uncivilized (Uncivilized 1)

Then he turned his back on me and started walking away, taking the lead and hacking his way through the jungle once more.

I imagined what chama de cabelos might mean in Portuguese. I was thinking something along the lines of idiot, dumbass, moron, or even bonehead. Father Gaul told me later when I asked him that it mean flame-haired.

I ended up taking that as a compliment, despite the fact that Zach looked like he wanted to strangle me whenever we made eye contact.

Zach didn't speak another word to me until later in the day when he was forced to, because once we reached the Jutai, we split up from Father Gaul and Ramon. His words were short and simple. He told me to get into the dugout canoe that Father Gaul had arranged for us at the small trading village on the river and to paddle hard.

Which I did... and within just an hour, my arms were shot and useless. He muttered something in Portuguese, and I suffered his glare the rest of the day as we traveled up the Jutai toward the Amazon River.

He gave me nothing further but silence on our second day on the water, despite my efforts to talk to him. I knew his English was still in fine form, as Father Gaul continued to speak it to him over the years, but he would only respond to me in Portuguese when I would try to ask him something, and I think half the time he was cursing at me.

Finally, something changed as we ported the canoe at the end of the second day. Something that started out with a few words, but then ended with soft moans and exquisite release.

I shudder now even thinking about the moment we had together.

After pulling the canoe up onto the bank, Zach silently took his machete and hacked away at some lowlying vegetation between two young Kapok trees that bordered the riverbank. When he was done, he merely pointed at the trees and said, "For your hammock," then turned around and disappeared into the jungle.

He was gone for less than an hour, returning with a small spider monkey he prepared over the fire that he efficiently built, but he didn't offer any to me. That was fine... I nibbled on my dehydrated rations and tried to talk to him about Randall, because Zach had not bothered to show one single bit of curiosity as to where I was leading him and what would happen when we returned to the States.

"Zach... do you have any questions about Randall Cannon, your godfather?"

I was met with silence as he poked at the dying fire.

"He's a nice man," I told him simply. "I think you'll like him a lot."

Zach ignored me at first, then stood up and went down to the river where he splashed water on his face. When he returned, he said, "I won't like him but tell me how he knows me... why he has the right to ask me to come to him."

I took the opportunity and poured out everything in a rush. "He was very good friends with your parents. He was your father's best friend. In fact, your father saved Randall's life once, and it created a very deep bond between them. I've seen a lot of pictures of you and Randall together. Your parents came on a few mission trips when you were very young, and you stayed with Randall each time. He cared for you then, and he cares for you a great deal now."

I heard a faint snort come out of Zach as he resumed sitting by the fire. "What is this word you have been using... 'godfather'?"

"It's a symbolic title. He was chosen by your parents to have a hand in guiding and directing you in life. It can have spiritual meaning, which I'm sure it did since your parents were very religious. Randall wasn't, so I think there was also an element where your parents chose Randall to be a secondary guardian to you. Someone that would look out for your well-being."

"He's not my father," Zach said defensively.

"Of course not," I assured him. "It's just a title. You make whatever relationship you want with Randall."

"I don't want any relationship with him," Zach sneered. "I just want to go back to my home."

Then he stood up again and walked into the jungle. He didn't come back for almost two hours. I laid in my hammock, wondering where he was and if I would be eaten by a jaguar that night.

But he did return, saying not a word to me. He merely laid down on the ground beside the fire and closed his eyes. I swayed in my hammock, looking up at the stars in the swatch of jungle that had been carved out by the river. The sounds of the night forest lulled me... birds and monkeys calling to each other, frogs croaking out love songs, and crickets merrily chirping. Some people thought it was too loud, but I loved it. It was like a soothing, white noise to me, and I was starting to get drowsy.

Before my eyes drifted closed for the night, I turned my head slightly and looked over at Zach. I glanced at his face first and saw that he was still awake and staring up at the same stars I had been looking at. My gaze traveled down his chest, and I was stunned to find he had his hand between his legs. His cock was fully erect, and he silently stroked it with his right hand, his other hand casually tucked under his head while he peered at the night sky.

He didn't make a sound and had it not been from the impressive erection sliding along his palm, I would have wondered if he were even enjoying himself.

I knew I should have averted my eyes and given him privacy while he masturbated, but damn... there he was under the broad, starry sky, wearing nothing but his hand around what I estimated was an amazing eight-to-nine inches of steel and velvet.

Zach's chest was moving up and down in tiny spurts, increasing in tempo with the beat of his hand, but no sounds of pleasure came out of his full lips. His cock was moist and, in the firelight, I could see pre-cum leaking from the tip. Everything else about him though was utterly still and silent, and I came to understand the fact that Zach had amazing control over his body and his feelings.

As I watched Zach pleasure himself, I couldn't help but imagine it was my own hand on him... then I imagined it was my mouth... then I imagined he was lodged deep inside of me. I'd never been with someone that large before, and I thought to myself... the stretch and burn would hurt in just the right way.

I felt moisture soak my underwear, and my body felt twitchy and frustrated. My breasts ached, and my stomach tightened. Rolling my body to the side, I winced slightly when the hammock strings groaned, but Zach didn't notice. He just kept stroking his cock and staring at the stars.

Pressure built quickly between my legs, and I swear I could feel my blood pumping through my clit, making an uncomfortable throbbing sensation. I couldn't stand it... I needed the same type of relief that Zach was rushing toward.

I craved it more than I had craved water in the heat of the jungle.

Common sense seemed to be dispossessed of my brain, and I moved without thought. Slowly lowering my hand to my stomach, I worked my fingers at the button on my pants and undid it. I tugged my zipper down, thankful for the noisy jungle to hide the sound. Humid air hit my lower belly, and I wasted no time slipping my fingers under the top edge of my cotton panties while I stared at Zach stroking himself.

His hand worked faster and his breathing became shallower, but he was still eerily quiet. I needed to catch up because he was leaving me far behind, so I pushed my index finger straight into my slickness, swallowing my groan as I realized how drenched with need I had become. Pulling my hand back, I dragged my finger over my clit and my hips jerked slightly, causing more creaking from the hammock. I held absolutely still for a moment, panicked that I would interrupt Zach's moment, but he was completely ignoring me.

With a soft sigh, I rubbed over my clit again. It felt so good I had to suck in a lungful of oxygen. God, it had never been that sensitive. Never felt that gratifying. But then again, I had never secretly masturbated with a gorgeous stranger laying just a few feet away from me, while I watched him pleasure himself with complete indifference to his surroundings.

Confident that either Zach had no clue what I was doing, or he just didn't care, I started to move my finger over my clit again, but I immediately went still when Zach lazily turned his head my way, letting me know at that moment... he had been aware the entire time what I was doing to myself. His own hand stilled, and he stared at me with the fire flickering in his eyes.

"Does it feel good? What you're doing to yourself?" His voice was avidly curious, and it occurred to me... maybe he'd never seen a woman do this before.

I blinked at him in surprise and started to remove my hand from my panties.

"Don't," he commanded me harshly. "Don't stop what you're doing. I can tell you're aroused. I can smell it, and I can practically hear your blood humming."

My hand stayed put, but I didn't move. I was frozen in shame that I had been busted.

"I ask again, Moira... does what you are doing to your body feel good? Good like what I'm doing to mine?" he asked as he languidly pumped his cock a few times.

"Yes," I whispered as I pressed my finger down hard against myself. "It feels really good."

"Then you may continue," he said simply, turning his face away from me again to look at the sky. His hand resumed stroking himself, slowly, as if starting his pleasure all over again.