Emotionally compelling Erotic stories by storyace
Older men / younger women
Older women / younger men
Sex with pregnant women
Author; Ace, Storyace
Title; My Jungle girl, 2002
Codes; M/F, M/F/F interr, rom, cheat, Voy.
Summery; A young American man on vacation in the hills of Indonesia loses his heart to an exotic girl.
What will he do about it? Will he be willing to make the sacrifices necessary?
[part 1 of 2]
Note; I like this story
It was in 1985 that I met Chuey.
I was backpacking around on one of the lesser known Indonesian islands. Not the tourist traps for me; I rented a motorcycle and was driving around the little towns and villages up in the hills.
She was a barmaid at the local watering hole. It was the only place in that little town to get a bite to eat and a beer. I was the only person in there not a local.
Chuey stood out like a single bloom in a desert of sameness. She was beautiful; fundamentally, she probably didn’t have more going for her than many of the other girls there, but Chuey had her own style. All the women up there wore colorful sarongs, blouses, and kept their hair under conical bamboo hats. Chuey was wearing her hair down, and wore light cotton trousers.
Back here in the west, that may not seem like anything; but up there, it was a statement; a symbol of defiance, a declaration that she didn’t accept the local status quo, that she considered herself different.
That much alone made her an exciting character; but her confident steady gaze when I challenged her with my eyes was a breath of fresh air after so long in this alien culture.
She tried not to let the other customers, mostly men who looked as though they’d just come from the fields, catch her flirting with me; but whenever I caught her eye, she’d smile subtly.
I knew what she saw; a foreigner, taller and stronger [looking, at least] than the local boys. Frightening and strange, dangerous; but a possible ticket out of this place where she clearly didn’t fit.
She brought me my food from the dusty kitchen in the back when it was ready. She tarried for a minute to talk to me.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“America.” I answered.
“Nice place, America?” she asked.
“Yes.” I answered her. “Stimjol [that was where we were] also nice place.”
She looked a bit unhappy at what I’d said; then she returned to the bar.
I stayed until 10:00. That was very late up there. I enjoyed myself sharing secret glances with the sweet young bargirl, fantasizing about what she would be like naked in my arms.
I could have her, I thought; I could pluck her from here like a ripe fruit from a tree, to savor, to enjoy her sweetness.
But I thought of this as just as a fantasy; I didn’t expect it to become real. I didn’t expect that innocent young 17 year old girl from nowhere to come to dominate my life so completely.
I woke up the next morning with the hangover that I always got from third world beer. When I stumbled out of the little room I’d rented for the night into the bright morning sunlight, I found the rear tire of my bike was flat.
My landlady brought me breakfast, and then I pushed the bike down the road to a little repair shop I’d seen. The whole place was only along the through road, and extended for a few hundred yards.
Chuey came in as the man was examining my inner tube with an expression on his face that didn’t give me much hope.
She was dressed in the local fashion this morning; conical hat and all. She was pushing a bicycle that also had a flat.
“He say your tube no good.” She translated. “You gotta bring new one.”
“Where can I get one?” I asked them.
“Not here. No tube your size. Have to come from Palu.” She told me after a brief exchange with the man.
“Can’t he fix it?” I asked in some desperation; it was at least a day’s journey on a local bus each way.
The repair man pointed at where the air stem met the rubber; he shook his head.
“No can repair.” Chuey said. “If you like, bus man can bring for you.” She added.
It was arranged in an hour or two; we met the bus as it stopped on its way down, and the driver agreed to get me the part and bring it up when he returned in two days. It was normal procedure up there.
While we were waiting for the bus, we had a chance to talk; and an excuse to be together. Chuey told me her name, and told me about herself.
Her father and mother were both dead. She lived alone in a hut up the road somewhere. She didn’t like it there. She hoped she could get away one day. She was very beautiful.
I was turned on, but wary of the possible consequences.
She told me there was a waterfall an hour’s walk up in the hills. After we had settled the business with the bus, we started walking.
She was comfortable in the jungle; her slim graceful form walking on the trail ahead of me filled my head with strange thoughts.
We were not alone; the trail went to another village, and there were people passing in both directions. Chuey greeted each of them, and most seemed to know her. I wondered if being out with me would affect her standing in the community.
We chatted and laughed; in her limited English, she managed to keep me amused, telling me funny stories of small village life.
She’d learned English in school when she was younger and lived down the mountain in another town. She’d come here a couple of years ago, when her father had died; it was their ancestral home, there was a small property here, and some cousins. The hut and a small plot of rice field was all she had.
She showed me her place on our way back. It was square, about 20 feet on a side, and built on poles a few feet from the ground.
“I have to go work now.” She told me.
I walked around the little village by myself for a while, then went to the bar.
Chuey was dressed in her modern clothes again, and her hair was down; gleaming, thick, and lustrous. Shiny and black to her shoulder blades, Chuey’s hair would have been reason enough to desire her by itself. I admired the way she handled the customers; pretty yet slightly aloof, her appearance, but not more, obviously provided for their pleasure, to increase custom.
I had to masturbate when I got back to my little room. Chuey was all I could think of, all I could see. I had a shower in the little cubical provided in one corner; then there was a soft knock on the door.
She was very nervous. She was resplendent, a vision, a fantasy in the flesh.
I wanted her desperately. I knew what she saw in me; a way out of this place. She knew that the chances were slim that it would work, and that I would take her away. She was no dummy, but she was willing to try. So was I.
She had found the courage to come this far, but then seemed at a loss as to what to do or say. I took her hand and pulled her inside the dimly lit room.
She was in my arms; her slim firm young body tight against me, her tiny hips in my hands, her small breasts squeezed to mine.
Did she want sex? All boys and girls want sex. It’s a question of whether that desire is or is not held in check by other motivations and fears. Chuey would have had her choice of the local males; but none had enough to offer her to induce her to give in to her carnality. She would have someone; it was me. I was there, I was desirable, I was young, rich, and good looking.
But I was an alien; a foreigner. I could feel the conflict in her as surely as I could feel her small hands on the bare flesh of my back, as surely as I could feel my dick inflating with hope. I was only wearing a towel.
We looked into each other’s eyes; the moment seemed to stretch into an eternity. Was this really happening? Was this big white 25 year old American going to make love with this seventeen year old orphan from nowhere? Was she really going to let him have his way with her? Would he betray her when he was through? Neither of us knew the answers.
Her skin was perfect; her complexion was even and smooth, the bones of her face establishing her precise symmetry.
Her high slanted eyes were her most alien feature to me; and the most alluring. I was swimming in them.
Her body was so slight in my hands, yet so firm and strong. She was a jungle girl, wonder woman.
I kissed her then.
We hadn’t had any physical contact at all before that night; we hadn’t even held hands. Her lips were thin, her head was a toy in my hand, she was mine.
I petted her glorious hair, sliding my hand down along its magnificence. I felt her little hands tentatively start to move across my body, exploring my big frame.
Gently, I removed her blouse; it was a modern stretch cotton, and she held her small arms up while I peeled it from her body.
She wore no bra; her breasts were soon exposed to the air, exposed to my gaze, exposed to my touch.
They were wonderful breasts; small, so small, yet perfect. They were firm breasts, protruding conically straight from Chuey’s chest, a prominent nipple on the tip of each. Like the rest of her, they were wonderfully symmetrical, they seemed to have no sag at all; they were gravity-proof breasts, breasts a man could love for decades.
She seemed to shudder as I gently slipped my tongue between her lips; was I going too fast? Adrenalin was flooding my body and brain.
My towel fell to the floor; I was embarrassed to be naked so soon. It seemed a bit rude, yet it was unavoidable. Her eyes went wide as her small hand slowly went to my stiff penis; we both seemed to stop breathing as she touched me there at last.
A groan escaped me; I had no other consciousness than that sensation; the girl’s small hand exploring my potency, feeling my American power and heat.
She was only as high as my nose; but she also had power. She could take me to the ultimate joy, or leave me like this, helpless in my desire.
I sat her on my bed, and stood over her as she played with my quivering cock; touching and prodding it, looking intently at it as she explored it with wonderful naivety.
“Taste it.” I whispered.
She looked up at me in shock; neither of us had spoken since she’d come in.
“Taste it.” I repeated. “Don’t be afraid. Taste it.”
Hesitantly, looking up at me, her cute mouth opened; wider, wider, until it could accommodate the tip of the organ in her hands.
I couldn’t help but hold her head as I slowly entered her mouth; she was still wearing her trousers, but I wanted them out of the way, I wanted to taste her in return.
She wasn’t distressed or repulsed by what she was doing, as far as I could tell. She was a natural, born to please. She sucked gently, not knowing what else to do.
I could barely stand it; it was so great, so unexpected. A rendezvous with a country girl, a beautiful sweet young girl who wanted to be mine. Whose perfect lips were already around my aching cock.
I pulled it away from her, and knelt on the floor at her feet. I opened the buttons; she didn’t make any move or noise as I removed first her trousers, then her panties.
Her legs were a treat; slim yet perfectly shaped. Her ass; the ass of a seventeen year old oriental girl who spent the day on her feet. What do you think it was like?
I lifted her right foot to my mouth; I’m sorry to say it wasn’t very clean, since she [like everyone in the tropics] wore open shoes. I kissed it anyway, and worked my way up her leg to her crotch.
Her breathing was short and shallow as she waited. She kept one hand protectively over her flower, but made little resistance as I pulled it aside.
She was wonderful; a dish beyond my powers of description. She’d been at work in the bar for the last 4 hours, but she seemed as sweet as honey on my tongue.
I licked her with my growing passion, tasting and testing her, devouring her innocence, driving her on through her writhing bucking gasping first orgasm without respite.
I had to have her; I had to put it in her. I was on fire, my cock was burning with it; she groaned as it went in, as I eased it carefully into its new sheath. I felt her hymen; gently, I pushed, having read of this but never experienced it.
She cried with pain briefly; I stopped, holding myself still in her superb little body, afraid of hurting her. I never wanted to hurt her, never. I would one day soon after, but I never wanted to.
Her body was warm, wet, and wonderful inside. She was tight against me, tight around me.
“Are you all right?” I asked her quietly.
“Yes. Yes, I think so.” She answered in a whisper.
She was frightened; so was I, to tell the truth.
I kissed her and stroked her, letting her get accustomed to the alien invasion of her body. When I thought she’d relaxed, I started.
I could have never lasted more than a few minutes if I hadn’t masturbated just before she arrived; the sensation was too much, her beauty too overwhelming, the tension against my dick too wonderful.
Her face took on a new look as I brought her to another orgasm; and then to a third.
She was so small and vulnerable below me. Such an exotic flower, her skin so perfect in the candle light, her scent so alluring as my hard cruel cock took her innocence from her.
I had to come; but I was wearing no protection. To fill her with my seed would be an evil act, even were I willing to take responsibility for such a thing. She was too young, it was up to me to be conscientious. I pulled it out as I started to come; it seemed so disappointing. I wanted to fill her with it, I wanted to feel her body around my penis as it delivered it’s load; I would enjoy that feeling another day, when we’d arranged a birth control prescription for her.
Because I didn’t leave Stimjol for a month. How could I? It was too wonderful there, the nature, the local color.
Everything was beautiful, but only because of Chuey. She was my light, my flower, my passion.
We went for walks in the jungle together; she was so at home there. She was my jungle blossom. She was so full of life and hope; she was bright and intelligent, yet so rural and naïve.
She knew every tree and bush, and she would gather some leaves and herbs while we were out, that she would prepare with our meal later. It surprised me somehow; I thought that people would have to have strange tattoos and bones through their noses before they'd have that kind of knowledge.
Proudly, she showed me her small plot of rice. It was ready for harvesting while I was there, and I helped her cut it and carry it home. It was the hardest work I'd ever done in my life; for Chuey and the other local people here, it was just normal existence. She got three crops a year, probably worth less than $100 altogether. I found it so sweet.
Chuey had no passport, just an identity card. If we made our relationship overt, I’d have to take her away forever. That mightn’t have been possible.
So she kept working in the bar, and I kept the room. I snuck to her hut every night, though.
It wasn’t like everyone didn’t know; but as long as the pretence was maintained, it could be forgotten after a couple of years if everyone wanted it to.
I could hardly bear the hours I had to spend away from her; her face was always in my vision, her scent in my nostrils. When we were together, when she was in my presence, a feeling of euphoria flooded me; she was like my opium, I was addicted to her.
I realized that I was in love; I thought it was a bit of a joke. Love comes, love goes, everyone knew that. Enjoy it while it lasted, have fun, have a lot of great sex.
But when I would look into her eyes, her deep clear dark eyes, and hold her close, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her. I knew it was silly, it could never work. What would my parents say if I brought her home? How could she live in the world of cars and supermarkets?
Our love was somehow desperate, and we made love constantly. We were so young, our hormones so powerful. Her light strong body wrapped around mine produced feelings of incredible power; what a privilege it was too love such a creature, to feel her slim exotic body convulsing in orgasm, to look into her eyes and kiss her sweet lips as my organ erupted inside her.
Chuey made some story about going to visit relatives, and took the bus a few hours down. I met her there, and we traveled on the bike for a few weeks through that strange alien land.
It wasn’t very satisfactory; half the people thought she was a prostitute, and the other half that I’d abducted her. Yet we were mostly impervious to the rest of the world; Chuey and I saw little more than each other.
We took up residence in Palu, the district capital, while we tried to get her a passport. The formalities seemed impenetrable, and soon it was time for me to leave; I had a cheap ticket that would expire, stranding me in Indonesia with my shrinking pile of cash.
We both got more and more upset as the inevitable date approached; we tried for her passport to the last minute, and made some headway, but I had to go. It was time for me to abandon my fantasy holiday romance and get back to reality, I told myself. It could never work, we were from different worlds.
We made love one last time before I left for the airport; we were too depressed for it to be very enjoyable.
For the last time, I pumped my sperm into her slim young body; she didn’t come. I left.
I wrote to her; every week, at first.
Of course it blew her cover up in the village, but she wanted me to write often. There was no email back then, not out there.
And she wrote back; sometimes full of hope, other times depressed at our hopeless situation.
I got a job, and tried to save money to return to her, but it was difficult. Our correspondence became less frequent; a year passed.
I asked a woman out. A pretty blond woman. We had two dates, then had sex.
She seemed so flabby, pasty and white. She worked in an office; how could she compare with my jungle girl? Her breasts were large, but had no form. She tasted disappointing, of civilization. She was a good woman, warm and friendly, smart and funny. She wasn’t unattractive; then why did she leave me cold? Even while we made love, while I was inside her, she meant nothing to me. We had our orgasms, but I felt dissatisfied. There was no real emotion, no taste to the meal.
Then I knew I had to return to the jungle. I had to bring Chuey back with me, or else not return. I couldn’t live an ordinary life after I’d been with Chuey; she had spoiled me. I had tasted her fruit, and it ruined my taste for less exotic fare.
I could no longer ignore the gnawing desire for her. Just to see her, talk to her, to hold her in my arms. I finally faced the reality that my feelings weren’t going away. I loved Chuey; it was very inconvenient, but I did. If I didn’t go and get her, I was sure I’d regret it for the rest of my life.
I took my two weeks vacation time within a week, far from certain that I would return on time. I had to see her again, I had to hold her in my arms! I’d left her there, I’d tried to marginalize my feelings for her, hoping they would go away.
I had never made any real promise. I’d just tried to help her get a passport; when I had to go, I did. That was only normal.
It wasn’t like I’d made her pregnant or anything. I’d put her on the bus back to her village before I flew away. I’d been fair and responsible.
Then why did I feel so guilty?
Because in my heart, I knew I had betrayed her; I’d given her hope, then tried to forget her. I’d enjoyed myself with her young innocence, then marginalized her. I hadn’t treated her as I should have; if I had just slept with her that one time, perhaps I could have justified it to myself. She was trying to get away; I was trying to get laid.
But I had lived with her, shared my food and drink with her, almost every waking hour with her, for over two months. I’d made love with her countless times, and then fallen in love with her. We had shared more than our bodies; we had shared our dreams. I could no longer deny it, it wasn’t going away. If I didn’t get her now, it might be too late.
I longed to look into her eyes again, to see the way she would look at me as we talked together. I longed for the communication we had shared, communication that I suddenly realized I had never shared with another person. I longed to just hold her in my arms, to cherish her as she should be cherished. To kiss her until she forgave me for going away, to make things right.
My excitement grew the closer I got to the reunion; I rented the same tired old motorcycle from the same man in Palu, strapped my old pack to it, and headed inland.
I was afraid and thrilled; I should have told her I was coming, I thought; but the mail took as long to arrive as I had taken to get there.
She would be so happy! The thought of seeing the light in her eyes again drove the bike forward, over the rough twisted roads to where my heart resided, in the mountain village of Stimjol, so minor, it wasn’t even on the map.
I rode past the repair shop, past the bar. Past the turnoff to the little pension where I’d stayed the year before. I waved to some local boys I knew, joy growing in my heart so I thought it would burst. I stopped at the trail that led to her hut; I took my pack and walked the ten minutes to the clearing where it stood, floating into the woods on a raft of anticipation.
I can barely describe the excitement and joy I felt as I stepped into the hut; or the depth of my despair two seconds later.
For there was my sweet little Chuey, the woman I loved, the woman I’d come here to take home; there she was, naked on her back, smiling ever so sweetly at the large blond man who was naked in her arms, his white ass rising and falling between her lovely legs.
It was amazing I hadn’t felt the structure shaking as I’d entered; standing still with my jaw on my chest and my heart on the floor, I couldn’t escape the reality of it.
Oblivious to my presence, they continued to fuck. I was frozen for that long moment, my reality crashing down around me. It was completely surreal; there I was, standing in the doorway of the little structure in full sight, staring down at them, and the two lovers didn’t even notice.
My sweetheart’s fingers tracing across his broad pale back, her feet siding over his ass as they used to slide over mine; the way she held his head tightly to herself as she started to come.
The hideousness of my timing was amazing; not only to find her with another man, but actually walk in on them having sex, and if that wasn’t sufficient, to even see her in the throws of orgasm.
As her breathing was retuning to normal, she opened her eyes and saw me, still standing like a man of stone. Her eyes went round, and she stared at me in shocked silence as her lover continued obliviously humping her.
I was hurt; hurt bad. I needed to get home, to heal, to hopefully eventually forget.
I turned and left. Retrieving my pack, I made for the road; stumbling blindly, not feeling my legs below me. Numbly, I tied the pack to the back of the bike. As I was trying to find the key, she came running out of the woods, her hair disheveled, a sarong wrapped loosely around herself.
“WAIT! David, please wait!” she pleaded. “Don’t go! Please, David don’t go!”
She started to cry. She threw herself on me; she held me tight around the neck as I sat on the bike helplessly, confused and shocked, not knowing what to do.
“You stopped writing to me David I thought you’d forgotten me I was desperate he means nothing oh David please please don’t go please David forgive me don’t go!” she spurted.
A local woman stopped to stare. My ex-lover continued, oblivious of the fact that there would now be enough gossip to keep the jaws of the place wagging for months if not years.
“You said you bought a car but you couldn’t come; you said you couldn’t get leave from your job, and then you didn’t write! I send you letters but you no answer, I thought you want forget me oh David…” She broke down crying.
In the five or ten minutes since my happy bubble had been so brutally burst, I had already mapped my course; home, work, friends to talk to, shoulders to cry on. I was alone in the woods; I was bleeding, I wanted help.
But now here she was, crying, begging; was there another chance for happiness? I hesitated, unsure what to do.
“I’ll stay in the pension. You come and we’ll talk.” I told her.
“Yes, David! I come, we talk. You not go, David, not go. Promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
She looked into my eyes for a long moment; I could see confusion there. Regret, fright; I knew her so well, I thought. We had spent those months together a year ago, and she was burned into my psyche. I would talk to her, hear her out. I had come this far.
But as I started to move off, I thought suddenly of the man in her hut; I turned to look for her, but she had already stepped back into the forest. I stopped the bike, removed my pack, and went after her. If she was to be mine again, I couldn’t leave her with another man, not for a moment. Not with a man who was waiting for her in her hut, waiting to make love with her.
I could hear him speaking as I approached; he was loud and Australian.
“You mean that’s it? Your old bloke turns up and you toss me like a rag?”
“I very sorry, Vincent. You please go now.”
“Shit Chuey; we were in the middle of making it. You can’t just throw me out in the middle!”
“Go, Vincent. Just go.”
I suddenly thought it was wrong of me to be here; she was handling the situation very well. I should have trusted her, I thought. I turned to creep away. I’d meet her later; why make a messy situation worse by facing this Vincent now?
“Let’s at least finish what we were doing.” I heard Vincent say. I froze in my tracks.
“No, Vincent. I no want.”
“Well what about me? I do want, I wasn’t finished. You just lie down here and relax. Go on, then I’ll go.”
“Promise?” Chuey said.
“Yes, I promise. I won’t get in your way, Chuey. I like you, I think you’re a swell girl. That’s it, you just lay yourself down. You really like this fella?”
“Ok, then. Just this last time, then, ok?”
There was silence as I stood in my pain and humiliation. What should I do now? Go in and interrupt them a second time?
He was her lover, like it or not. They had come to an agreement; it wasn’t even unreasonable, I suppose. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
I was afraid to move lest they hear me; there was now no covering noise. But then the little structure started to rustle with that unmistakable rhythm as the Australian began to have his way with her for the last time.
“Do you like it, Chuey?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Do you like it when we do this? When we make it? I always made you happy, didn’t I?”
I found myself feeling sorry for him; I suddenly realized that he was also hurting. He may not have loved her like I did, but he was a human being, he had feelings too. The rhythm stayed steady.
“Yes, Vincent.” Chuey said.
“Will you come for me, Chuey? Will you do that for me one last time?”
“How can I do that, Vincent? I am all mixed up inside, how can I do that?”
“Just stop thinking of him; you’ll think of him later, but for these few minutes, just think of me; of the fun we had, the love we shared. Think of me as you thought of me yesterday; can you do that Chuey?”
“I don’t know Vincent.”
“You have to try, Chuey. I want our last time together to be a good time. Look at me, Chuey; don’t you love me, just a little?”
I heard no reply, but the rhythm’s tempo rose slightly. I could hear the grunts and groans of the two of them as they both approached where that path was leading.
I walked back to the road, leaving them to their farewell sex.
The woman at the little pension proudly told me how she now had two rooms for rent; I groaned inwardly as he told me an Australian man was staying in the other.
Chuey and Vincent arrived together an hour later. Awkward would be a very mild term.
I went with Chuey back to her hut, where we could talk.
Despite the fact that she had so recently, within the previous two hours, lain with another man, there was current between us; slowly, it grew.
“But I did write, Chuey. I answered every letter you sent. But you didn’t write for the last two months at all.”
“Yes! Yes, I write. You not answer.”
Mail had been lost; we had been lost.
“So you found another man.”
“What could I do, David? I so alone, you not writing. All people here, they know everything, David. I have no chance here now. You no find another girl?”
I struggled with myself for a moment; I knew of her infidelity; it seemed unfair not to admit my own.
“Once. I was with another woman once. And then I knew I must come back for you.”
I had admitted more than I’d wanted to; but there it was. I had not been completely committed to her, either. I’d wanted her to be faithful to my memory, even though I thought I wouldn’t return.
Then she was in my arms; soothing my pain, but not eradicating it, not that quickly. We slept together there, not eating or even speaking much. We didn’t have sex at first; we just held each other. My hard on was there between us; but I didn’t really want to. His slime must still be inside her, I thought with disgust. And yet, when Chuey gently started to rub the tip of my organ against herself, I couldn’t resist her.
We made love sadly; both of us sorry at the missed possibility of a glorious reunion. Sorry for the pain we had caused each other. Sorry for the pollution we had introduced to our love.
Yet our lovemaking was important; what it lacked in passion, it made up for in emotion. We were together again, for better or worse.
Chuey now had her passport. We went down to Palu, and took a ferry to Jakarta, to the American consulate office to ask for a visa for her.
I was thoroughly ignorant about those things. Of course she was refused; she had no property [to speak of] and no visible means of support. I thought if I went with her [an American citizen and all] I could insist for her; the opposite was the case. It looked like exactly what it was; an American who wanted to get his local girlfriend into the U.S.
We went to our hotel with our brief hopes crushed.
Then I decided to propose.
The Immigration people were right; why did I want to get her into the U.S. if I was unwilling to commit myself to her? If she came, she would be dependent on me for a long time. If I wanted her, I had to be willing to support her in every way.
Her eyes filled with tears; she clutched me to herself tightly.
“Yes.” She said.
End of part one.
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