In the jungle

I don't know who he is. He never said a single word to me. I mean, absolutely — not a word, not a sound. For a while, I even thought he was mute. He could hear perfectly, though. That much was clear. At least from the way he reacted appropriately to sounds.

We ended up in the selva because I was kidnapped from a youth camp. Won a trip, so to speak. It was a geography quiz competition organized by a well-known travel agency and a beer conglomerate. First, we flew by plane to the capital, and then we were taken to the camp itself, located on the ocean coast. It was great there. And I was kidnapped on the fifth day of my stay

in the resort area, and in a banal way, grabbed and dragged into a car.

I was sold to some local native, a pot-bellied, wheezing man who turned out to be a terrible pervert. He miraculously didn't beat me to death. Just one day, armed people attacked the house and carried out a proper robbery.

While the guards of the house and the attackers were sorting things out, this strange guy appeared. He grabbed me in his arms and dragged me into the selva. The selva — these are coastal, very wet jungles with snakes, pumas, and other nasty creatures that simply dream of mauling or poisoning someone. But by that time, I had become so dulled from the beatings and practically continuous copulation that I was no longer afraid of anything or anyone, just trudged along behind him, dumbly and obediently. One good thing was, he didn't bother me.

We came to some hut. It was flimsy as could be. Who it could protect from — was unclear. But, at the very least, it was the semblance of protection. Inside, there were beds, blankets, and simple utensils. We lived here for a whole week. I just slept and ate, and he was always disappearing somewhere. He fed me fish and some unearthly fruits. They simultaneously tasted like strawberries and very tender apples and were so ripe that the juice ran down my hands and dripped from my elbows. After eating, I didn't bother washing up, but fell back to sleep.

And then came the day when I came back to life. I woke up feeling unclean and went to look for water. A stream was discovered right near the hut. I quickly undressed and, spreading my legs, bent down to the water. And I saw his reflection. He was standing behind me. I instantly realized what view he had, and immediately straightened up. He grinned and held out his hand to me.

— Listen, don't," I asked. "I've been worn down to the bone and made frigid for life. I'm no fun. Really, I swear!

In my opinion, he only caught the pleading tone, because he was still curling his mouth mockingly. I sighed and trudged to where he was calling. We didn't walk long, about five minutes. But suddenly, beyond the trees, a small lake opened up, into which a waterfall was crashing. The guy made an inviting gesture. Bathe! — I understood and started muttering thanks. And he demonstratively turned away.

I came to my senses. What am I doing, really, with my battered skin. I involuntarily ran my fingers over the barely healed scars on my chest and shoulders. His smile changed. He wasn't mocking anymore. He was studying me. I jerked my head up and went into the water, dropping the blanket from myself.

— Oh, you bastard!" — I muttered and started trying to catch him.

In the end, he caught me, after having plenty of fun endlessly toppling me into the lake. He treated me very gently and patiently, but not like a victim of violence, but, at the very least, like a princess of the blood who felt like having some fun. He grabbed me with both hands and pressed me tightly to himself, letting me feel what our game had led to. And I felt it. And not only his hot, risen organ, but also my own body, which, it seemed, had once and for all lost the ability to respond to male touch. Now I felt a chill in my lower abdomen and a soft pulsation in my perineum.

I saw right in front of me, very close, his beautiful mouth, which was no longer twisted by any smirks. Without thinking, I kissed him. The guy responded. He kissed wonderfully, and his tongue was in the right place. At some point, we stumbled and plunged headlong into the lake. We surfaced without interrupting the kiss. Then we ended up under the waterfall and kissed there inspirationally until we got cold. The guy very carefully caressed my breasts, still bearing traces of beatings, kissed my neck. Then he suddenly placed both palms on my buttocks and pressed me tightly to himself. I immediately wanted more, not just kisses and embraces.

We got out on the shore and stretched out on the blanket I had discarded. Twilight fell. We could only see each other's faces when we started kissing again. He very carefully explored my body, lingering on the scars. At the same time, he didn't forget to periodically run the edge of his palm over my perineum, as if checking readiness. It was surprising for me to feel that the moisture that appeared there had nothing to do with the recent washing.

I felt him delaying the climax, giving me the opportunity to get maximum pleasure. At critical moments, he would freeze, but I immediately started moving myself, and he, catching his breath, would start again, increasing the pace more and more. And then, when he entered me especially deeply, I felt the shuddering of his body. It happened. He gave me his seed, kissed me gratefully, and rested for a while. When his breathing evened out, he got up, wrapped me in the blanket, and carried me to the hut in his arms. And there everything repeated.

In the morning, I started asking him in all the languages I knew what his name was and who he was at all. But my inquiries were unsuccessful. He looked at me with interest and didn't show any sign of understanding.

— Write!" I asked. "What's your name? Who are you?

In the end, he got tired of it. He gestured: "Get ready! We're leaving!" And we really did leave the hut that had sheltered us.

We walked until evening. We stopped only once to have a snack. He didn't let me rest, gestured me up and pointed the direction. He was clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. And I experienced all the delights of traveling through the selva with countless attacks by reptiles and insects. When I screamed again, seeing a huge spider jump from the tall grass right onto me, the guy stopped, decisively flicked the spider off, and gestured to me: "Brush it off! And don't scream!"

And then we came out to a road, walked along it for a while, reached a place where the road forked at an angle, and stopped. I collapsed into the grass with relief. He sat down next to me, studied me intently for a while, as if deciding something. But whatever decision he made there, I never heard a single word from him. Instead, I heard the sound of a car driving and braking.

He got up and, hiding, went in that direction. He returned quickly, offered me his hand. I stood up. He looked into my eyes again, smiled warmly, and kissed me. As it turned out, as a farewell. Breaking away from my lips, he authoritatively pointed: "Go to the car!" I didn't argue. I had trusted him once and continued to trust him now in everything. For a while, we walked together, and then he disappeared, dissolved into the selva like an unclean spirit.

I came out to the car. Near it — it was strange to see — two men in strict business suits were standing and smoking. Noticing me, they weren't surprised at all. And one called my name. I nodded. They were delighted. These people turned out to be employees of our embassy. It turns out they had been looking for me all this time. Our country had finally stopped abandoning its citizens in trouble to the mercy of fate.

Already in the capital, I went through the interrogation procedure. I was placed in a hospital, and when I had fully recovered, I was put on a plane flying home. I never saw my savior again. Only once at the embassy, I overheard a snippet of conversation in the local language. Two men were talking, glancing at me and assuming I didn't understand them.

— How did it happen that this principled figure dropped everything and got involved in the search?

— There's a magic word against him," the second one chuckled briefly. "Russian student...

I don't know if this conversation was about my savior, but I really never heard anything more about him. No inquiries helped. But I am very grateful to this guy — both for saving my life and for the fact that I remained a normal person and didn't turn into a sexually complexed monster.

I regret only one thing, that I never heard his voice.