Diane Parker, a 25-year-old anthropologist from the United States gets lost in the amazon rainforest.
My name is Doctor Diane Parker, I'm 25 years old and am an anthropologist. I joined a small expedition into the Amazon rainforest, my aim being to make contact with natives who have not been exposed to western culture. After five days by small boat from the nearest town, we were unceremoniously dropped off on the riverbank, surrounded by huge trees and chirping insects. The others are busy setting up camp, the air filled with their laughter and the clanging of pots. The camp was particularly noisy, and no natives would want to go anywhere near us.
My adventure really began one morning when I set off early for a day of exploring on my own in the forest. My plan was to get away from our western camp with its noise and disturbance out into the untouched forest where I might be able to find signs of the native peoples. I climbed to the top of the nearest ridge, through the thick vegetation. The view was breathtaking, ridges cascaded into valleys, lush green and alive, stretching infinitely in every direction. A tapestry of emerald and jade, punctuated by earthy brown and dappled sunlight. I felt very small in the vast rainforest.
I was following a rough trail, the work of some unknown creature, perhaps a tapir or a peccary. Each ridge I climbed rewarded me with panoramic views, but I was searching for something more elusive, traces of native people, remnants of those who had lived harmoniously within this wild expanse.
As midday approached, it got hotter and more humid. Shafts of sunlight poked through the canopy to create spots of light on the forest floor. I took a moment to rest, taking water and a sandwich from my backpack and leaning against a gnarled tree. I pulled out my GPS device to check how long it will take to get back to camp. I pressed the buttons, but instead of the reassuring blue dot marking my location, the screen was blank. Panic surged through me, its icy grip squeezing my chest. I pressed the power button again and again, but the device stubbornly refused to cooperate. Glancing around, I realized I was utterly alone among the towering giants of the rainforest.
I took a deep breath, forcing calmness into my chaotic thoughts. I needed to start back towards camp straight away. I had to get back before nightfall. I retraced my steps, or at least I thought I did, hoping to see something familiar, hoping I was on the right track. After what felt like hours, I heard the distant gurgle of water. With renewed hope, I pushed forward and soon came across the river. I should be upstream of our camp, so I just needed to follow the river and I would be safe.
Unfortunately, there was no easy trail beside the river and I was forced to cut my way through. My breath came in ragged gasps, it was hard work cutting my way through the forest. I paused, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of civilization, but all I saw was the river and an unbroken sea of green that surrounded me. The heat and humidity of the Amazon rainforest that afternoon was really something. Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down the back of my neck as I hacked away at the relentless underbrush with my machete.
The sun was getting lower in the sky, it would be setting fairly soon. I checked my GPS again and it was still not working, and I knew that my chances of finding my way back to camp before nightfall were getting slimmer. The setting sun painted the canopy above in shades of fiery orange and deepening purple, it would be beautiful if I wasn't in such a predicament. The rainforest sounds grew louder, more insistent, as darkness approached. I knew I had to find shelter before the nocturnal predators began their hunt.
As the sun set, my pace was really slowing, my legs felt like lead as I stumbled through the gloom. The vegetation grew thicker beside the river, making me work even harder to cut my way through and slowing me down even more. The afternoon heat changing to the cool of night. And then, like a beacon of hope, I saw it: away from the river some way up the slope, a flickering light in the distance, possibly a campfire. My heart leapt at the sight. It can't be our camp but it must be someones.
With caution, I approached the fire, my senses heightened by the promise of human company. The crackling of the flames grew louder, The fire was in the middle of a small clearing in the trees. I didn't want to appear as an agressor so I put my machete back into my pack and cautiously stepped into the clearing. The firelight illuminated a figure sitting cross-legged before the blaze. It was a native man from the rainforest, his lean muscles rippling in the flickering light. He stood up, his striking green eyes locking onto mine, and I could see the curiosity in his gaze. The man was much shorter than me. I am 180cm tall and he was about 50cm shorter. He wore a loincloth and nothing else, and he had a long wooden rod pierced through his nose. He had black fairly straight hair cut short and his deep brown skin was etched with raised dots and lines in an intricate pattern that covered his face, chest and stomach. I would guess he was older than me, between 30 and 40 but its hard for me to tell.
He was looking at me closely, seeing a white woman much taller than him, with long blonde hair down to my waist pulled into a ponytail. I'm wearing a shirt, shorts and strong walking boots and with a small backpack slung over my shoulders. I spent a lot of time getting fit in the gym before coming on this expedition and have probably never looked better. He held his hand up, palm out, in a gesture of peace I hoped. He had a growing erection causing his loincloth to raise, but I kept my eyes firmly on his face. He pointed at himself and spoke a single, guttural word: "Naira."
I mimicked his gesture, pointing at my chest and saying my name, "Diane," with a clear voice. The sound of my own name seemed strange in the alien environment, but Naira's eyes lit up with understanding. He stepped closer, his bare feet silent on the soft earth, and offered me a piece of roasted meat. I took it hesitantly, my hand brushing against his rough skin. The scent of the meat was rich and smoky, and I knew he would be offended if I didn't take his gift. I took a bite, the tender flesh almost melting in my mouth. It was delicious.
While I ate, Naira's hand was gently stroking his erect cock and his eyes never leaving mine. The action was mesmerizing, a blatant display of his desire that was maybe normal for his tribe. Despite his small size, I knew that in the forest I could be no match for his strength and agility. I took another bite of meat, my eyes flicking down to his cock and then back up to his face. His hand movements were slow and deliberate, the shadows playing across his skin highlighting the sinewy muscles of his forearm.
Naira gestured for me to sit by the fire, patting the ground with his hand. I hesitated, Naira might be ok, or he might attack me. But I needed rest, and the warmth of the fire was too tempting to resist. I took my pack off and lowered myself to the ground, which was dry near the fire, and took another bite of the delicious meat. He watched me intently, his expression unreadable as he sat back down, his cock still standing tall.
As I ate, Naira reached for a gourd resting on the ground beside the fire. It was filled with water. He offered it to me with a gentle nod, and I took it. The water was cool and refreshing, and I drank greedily, feeling the tension in my throat ease. As he had handed the gourd over, I noticed the way his hand moved to stroke the cloth of my sleeve, his fingertips lightly tracing the unfamiliar material. It was clear he was fascinated by my foreignness, and I wondered what he made of the pale-skinned giant before him.
The stroking of his cock grew more deliberate, his movements quickening. His eyes narrowed and his breath grew deeper, the muscles in his chest rising and falling with every exhale. I felt a strange mix of fear and intrigue, my eyes locked onto his hand as it danced over his erect shaft. Suddenly, with a grunt, Naira climaxed, spurting a thick rope of semen that landed with a sizzle on a piece of meat skewered on a stick beside the fire. The smell of his release mingled with the smoke of the cooking food, and he calmly took the stick and offered me the cum-covered morsel.
What could I do? I took the meat, I could not risk offending him. This might be his way of sharing, of including me in his tribe, and I had little choice but to stay friendly rather than face a night alone in the forest. I took a bite, the taste faintly salty and musky, and chewed thoughtfully, my eyes never leaving Naira's. His gaze was still intense, but he smiled broadly. Luckily, I had done the right thing.
Naira's hand reached out, his fingers feeling the fabric of my shirt, more boldly this time. He stroked my arm gently, his touch surprisingly tender. Was he more interested in the cloth, or the texture of my skin beneath? The sensation was strange, his touch foreign and yet oddly comforting. His gaze searched my face, looking for signs of fear or anger. I was careful to keep my feelings under control and not to show any fear. With a slight smile, I offered my hand to him. His grip was firm and sure, his rough skin a stark contrast to the softness of mine. Our fingers intertwined, and he raised my hand to his face, his cheek brushing against the back of my hand. His eyes closed for a brief moment, his breath deepening. The heat from his body was palpable, a stark reminder of the primal energy that pulsed through his veins.
He released my hand and reached out to touch my blonde hair, which was tied back in a ponytail. His fingers combed through the strands, feeling the length of my ponytail as it ran through them. I have never cut my hair since I was a little girl so it reached almost to my waist. He seemed fascinated by the texture, the strands being very fine and straight, unlike the coarse black hair he had. His eyes never left mine, searching for any hint of rejection, but I was happy to let him inspect me. I wanted him to see we were not so different, an acknowledgment of our shared humanity amidst the alien world of the Amazon.
His inspection moved to my legs, his hand sliding down my thigh and calf, finally resting on the rough, dusty material of my walking boot. He touched the solid leather, tracing the curve of the shoe with the tips of his fingers. His own feet were toughened from a lifetime of navigating the forest without protection, yet here I was, with these strange contraptions that allowed me to tread over the harsh terrain with ease.
With a gentle tug, Naira indicated for me to remove the boot. I complied, my heart pounding as the reality of the situation grew more intense. He took it from me, holding it up to examine the heavy construction. His gaze lingered on the laces, which he untied and pulled free, his curiosity piquing as he felt the softness of the material. I couldn't help but wonder what he made of this alien piece of technology, so far removed from his world of organic simplicity. Once the boot was off and he had inspected it, he placed it beside the fire, his eyes moving to my bare foot. He took my foot into his hand, his thumb tracing the arch as he inspected the unblemished skin. His touch was surprisingly gentle. His gaze grew more intense as he took in the novelty of my foot, the softness of my skin a stark contrast to his own.
I had finished eating the cum-covered meat and handed him the empty stick back. I didn't want to just throw it away in case that caused any offense. He pushed one end of it back into the ground near the fire.
Naira stood up gracefully and moved behind me, his eyes still gleaming with fascination. He reached out and touched my hair again, gently pulling at the strands before letting them fall through his fingers like a waterfall. His curiosity grew as he traced the contours of my head, then his fingers moving to my ears, which I had never had pierced. What adornments did the women of his own tribe have I wondered. He traced the outline of my earlobes, the tip of his finger circling the edge before moving up to the shell of my ear, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down my neck.
His hands then moved to my face, his fingertips gliding over my cheekbones, feeling the smoothness of my skin. He traced the line of my nose, the bridge and tip, the sensation making me flinch slightly. I had no facial piercings, whereas he had the long wooden stick through his nose. He chuckled, a sound that was both warm and foreign, his breath hot against my neck. His thumbs brushed over my eyebrows, and then his index fingers followed the arc of my brows, his touch feather-light and curious. His thumbs moved to my closed eyes, and he traced the lids before moving down to my cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from my body. His touch was so tender that it was almost soothing, a gentle exploration that seemed to speak of a desire to understand, rather than to claim.
Nara moved round to stand in front of me, he was so short we were face to face even though I was sitting on the floor. He then took my hand and placed it on his face. His skin was firm and weathered, and he had hard lines and bumps over his forehead and around his eyes, probably the result of scarification or something similar. His cheekbones were high and sharp, his jawline strong and defined. His skin felt like warm velvet beneath my fingertips, and I could not feel any sign of his beard, he must have a means of shaving it. His eyes closed as I touched him, a low murmur of satisfaction rumbling in his throat. I felt the softness of his full lips, the sharpness of his nose, and the long smooth stick running horizontally through his septum. His skin was so different from my own, and yet, the act of feeling him was a strange form of intimacy that transcended the barrier of our worlds.
He opened his eyes and took my hand, guiding it to his chest. His heart beating beneath my palm, a rhythmic thump that matched the beating of my own. His chest was broad and muscular, and had a pattern of raised bumps over the surface. He pressed my hand harder, pushing it into the firmness of his torso. His nipples were hard, the small areolae dark, and his chest hair sparse but wiry. He leaned closer to me, and brushed his hand against my chest. His intentions were clear: he wanted to explore my body just as I had just explored his. I took a deep breath, and with trembling fingers, I began to unbutton my shirt. His eyes watching how I worked the buttons, his gaze filled with a mix of wonder and desire. The first button slipped free, and then another, until my shirt fell open. The cool evening air sending goosebumps across my chest. His fingers gently stroked down my throat and onto my chest, my bra restricted his full access to my breasts. He tugged slightly at my shirt, and I took it off.
His hands moved to my shoulders, tracing the line of my collarbone before sliding down to the swell of my breasts. Naira touched the fabric of my bra, his fingers tracing the edges of the cups. I felt my breath catch as his thumbs gently brushed over my erect nipples. He didn't seem to know what the bra was for, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar barrier. His hands moved down my stomach, the heat from his touch searing my skin as they traveled lower. He touched my navel, just visible above the waistband of my shorts. He tugged again at my bra, I knew he wanted me to remove it. With trembling hands, I reached behind me and unclasped it. The bra fell away, and my breasts were exposed to the cool night air. Naira's eyes widened in amazement, his gaze lingering on my pale, round flesh. His hands moved to cover them, his thumbs and forefingers playing with my nipples. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost reverent. He rolled them between his fingers, watching as they grew even harder under his ministrations. I couldn't help the moan that escaped my lips.
The contrast between us was stark. His skin was a tapestry of scars, perhaps marking important stages in life, or of belonging to a specific tribe. My skin, by comparison, was a canvas untouched by any marks at all. It was a stark reminder of the differences between us, yet the hunger in his gaze told me that he found something fascinating about my unblemished flesh. His thumbs continued to circle my nipples, the sensation sending bolts of pleasure through my body. Naira leaned forward, his face a mask of concentration as he took one of my nipples into his mouth. I felt his nose stick press into the softness of my breast as he began to suckle, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. The sensation was electric, a jolt of pleasure that shot straight to my core. I gasped, my hand moving to the back of his head, my fingers tangling in his thick, black hair. His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue flicking and teasing as he explored the newfound treasure.
My breasts were still firm and perky at 25, the constant pull of gravity countered by my always wearing a bra. They had never borne the effects of children, never been subjected to the ravages of time and life in the way that the women in his tribe likely had. His touch was unpracticed, but eager, as if he were discovering a new type of fruit that had just fallen ripe before him. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin around my areola, causing me to jolt with a mix of pain and pleasure. His eyes looked up to mine, his pupils dilated with arousal.
As Naira continued to suck and nibble on my nipples, alternating between the two, I felt a warm, sticky wetness splash onto my stomach and shorts. His other hand had been under his loincloth, where he was vigorously stroking his erect cock. He had just cum over me while I was distracted with his sucking of my nipples. I pushed him away from me, a gasp of breath filling my lungs. Looking down, I saw the evidence of his release, a thick white line snaking down my stomach and pooling in the fabric of my shorts. The sudden sight of it filled me with revulsion and surprise. Naira looked up at me, his eyes surprised by my reaction. He didn't seem to understand my disgust, his expression a blend of confusion and anticipation. I guessed that in his world, bodily fluids were a part of life, not something to be shied away from. But for me, a modern woman from the civilized world, this was an affront to my dignity.
With trembling hands, I began to untie my other walking boot. I took it off, and stood it next to the first boot. I looked at Naira, his gaze still on me, his hand still wrapped around his cock, which was now half-hard again. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. I unzipped and pulled down my shorts, exposing my black, lace panties. The sight of the cum on my shorts made me feel dirty, violated, but I knew that cleanliness was a luxury in this environment. I stepped out of the shorts, and they fell to the ground in a sodden heap. Naira's eyes followed the movement, his gaze lingering on my bare legs and the patch of fabric that now separated us.
With the gourd still nearby, I dipped my fingers into the cool water and brought them to my skin. I began to wipe at the sticky mess on my stomach, removing his cum from my body. I moved to the fabric of my shorts, using the water to cleanse the semen away as best I could. The act was both intimate and degrading, performed under the watchful eyes of a man who had put the cum there in the first place. I decided to put my bra and shirt back on. The bra clung to my damp skin as I fastened the clasp, and as I buttoned up my shirt I felt less exposed even though I was not wearing my shorts. Naira's expression grew serious as he watched, his hand slowly retreating from his now softened cock. He seemed to understand he had gone too far and made me upset, perhaps this was appropriate behaviour for him.
Naira walked to the edge of the clearing. He stopped before a towering tree, its bark gnarled and moss-covered. He lifted his loincloth and his cock sprang free, bobbing slightly. He faced the tree and urinated, the stream of piss a golden arc that steamed in the night's chill. He made no attempt to hide what he was doing. Returning to the centre of the clearing, Naira lay down on a bed of leaves under a primitive canopy of cut branches he had made near the fire. He patted the leaves, gestured for me to lay down too. The idea of sleeping out here, vulnerable to the creatures of the night, was terrifying, what other choice did I have? The exhaustion from my day of forest exploration was undeniable. I walked over to the tree Naira had just used and squatted down to pee, then I returned and lay down next to Nara.
Naira kept his hands to himself for which I am grateful, his eyes closing almost immediately. His breathing grew deep and even, and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling helped me to feel calm. I watched the flickering flames, listening to the symphony of the night: the distant howls of creatures I didn't recognize, the whispers of the leaves dancing in the breeze, the steady drip of moisture from the canopy above. Against my better judgment, I let my eyes drift shut. The exhaustion of the day claimed me, and I sank into a fitful sleep.
When I awoke, the sky was brightening with the approaching dawn, all deep blues and purples. The first light of day peeked through the canopy, casting long shadows. Naira was already up, tending to the fire, which had dwindled to embers overnight. My shorts, which had been drying by the fire, were now ready to wear. I slid them back on, the fabric clinging to my skin. Naira offered me a stick with a piece of sizzling meat skewered on the end, a peace offering perhaps? I accepted it, he had slept next to me and been perfectly gentlemanly about it. The meat was cooked to perfection, the flavor a mix of the forest's spices and the earthy scent of the fire.
We both ate in silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant calls of the awakening wildlife the only soundtrack to our meal. His gaze remained on me, not in a predatory way, but as if he was studying a creature he hadn't quite figured out yet. I took comfort in the knowledge that he had shown no signs of aggression, only curiosity and a desire to claim me. Perhaps there was a way to navigate this situation without succumbing entirely to his primitive instincts.
My walking boots were still where I had left them the night before by the fire. The lace that had interested Naira needed putting back, then I put my boots back on. I looked in my backpack. It was immediately obvious Naira had been through it. I wonder what he made of the broken GPS device, flashlight, notebook or plastic rain poncho. He must have noticed the machete, which would have been like a huge sword to him. He had not taken anything which I took to be a good sign.
Naira had finished eating and began packing his few posessions into a large basket woven from vines or something similar. He had a knife and a short tube which might be a blowpipe, a leather pouch containing something, some wooden bowls, a wooden cooking pot and some gourd shaped bottles. He put the fire out, and the leaf shelter he just left there. Everything he had of value was in his basket, so he probably wasn't coming back here.
After he finished packing, Naira stood up and slung the basket over his shoulder. He looked at me and gestured towards a path that disappeared into the dense foliage. The question was clear: should I follow him? The rational part of my mind screamed caution, reminding me that I was lost and vulnerable, and my own camp was not that far away if only I knew where. But the anthropologist in me was intrigued, eager to learn more about this man and his way of life. With a deep breath, I nodded and picked up my backpack. He beamed, revealing a mouthful of perfectly white teeth.
I followed him down the path, wondering what would happen next.