Love in the Jungle

All characters represented in this work are wholly fictional, and over the age of eighteen.

All characters represented in this work are wholly fictional, and over the age of eighteen.

Needless to say, the rest of the group was confused, if not downright alarmed to hear that we were calling the helicopter- without even spending a full day at the excavation site. It was supposed to be reserved for emergencies, both as a cost and preservation-based measure.

The personae of Dr. Waters began to reassert herself over my mother, but she and I were still rather disoriented. In unspoken coordination, we feigned collective illness, justifying our actions by saying something vague about 'parasites in the water' and 'horrifying stomach bug' respectively. Mom deputized Bethany and Carlie as her archaeologists on the ground, telling them to ensure all artifacts were cataloged, while surreptitiously avoiding drawing attention to the circlet fastened around her neck.

To cut a very long story short: by early that evening, we'd checked into a two-bed hotel room back in Manaus, with a pair of tickets booked on an annoyingly-indirect morning flight back to The States. It wasn't a super pleasant helicopter trip, although it was much shorter than our time on the river.

We were both quiet, despite our seeming agreement on what weneededto do, neither of us were quite certain what wewantedto do. How could we come back from something like that? I'd felt her body around mine, her lust coating my penis in the fluids normally reserved for her lovers, or at one time, my father. I could feel confusion, anger, despair, radiating off her in waves, even as we checked into our more civilized accommodations.

I knew my mother loved primary research- getting her fingers dug into the muck of archaeology, both literally and figuratively. I assumed, therefore, a significant portion of her ennui boiled down to feeling obligated to leave a dig she'd been organizing for months. I resolved to speak to her regarding our sexual encounterafterwe'd had a chance to clean off after our work week in the jungle (allowing her to shower first, gentleman that I am). It had been a mistake. A dozen separate justifications boiling through my brain to avoid the suggestion that one or both of us were fucked up in the head.

So there I sat, in that armchair that every hotel room the world over inexplicably has, trying to avoid letting any part of my clothing touch anything I'd want to use post-shower. The mud of the Amazon gets on absolutely everything, stinks to high heaven, and tends to stain.

I provide this insight, that it might be a bit more obvious why I elected to strip down to my underwear. It wasn't the necklace acting upon me, but rather an honest attempt to keep our rented room at least semi-clean.

Yes, the so-called 'wedding necklace' remained fastened around my neck, and of course my mother's as well. I resolved to break them off as soon as we got back stateside, perhaps with a pair of bolt cutters or similar. Their inexplicable presence, and insistence to avoid removal was, while alarming, wasn't really top of my mind at the moment.

I felt uncomfortable in ways that my current lack of cleanliness didn't entirely explain. It was like a stain on my soul, which was only growing by the moment- a confused cacophony of emotions boiling within me as I sat on the itchy fabric upholstery. Had I planted the idea in her mind with my masturbatory exhibitionism? Was our tryst atop the cupola my fault?

On one hand, it had been the most incredible sex of my life. Sure, it didn't last long, but while I was inside my mother things just felt...Right. On the other hand, the whole of humanity has already come together to decide, in no uncertain terms, that sex with your closest blood relatives is decidedly uncool, to say the absolute least.

I heard the door to the bathroom creak open, and a towel-wrapped version of my mother exited. I tried to give her a weak smile, but she avoided my gaze. Her necklace drew my gaze down to her cleavage, but with a herculean effort, it was for no more than a moment.

"Shower's open." She said, casually, as if we hadn't just flown out of the rainforest in a frantic rush after having sex atop an ancient pyramid.

"Mom-" I started, but bit my lip. Her eyes finally met mine, and, for a moment, I couldn't look away. Had her eyes always been so beautiful?

"Let's- get cleaned up first, then we'll talk." She blinked, releasing my gaze, much to my relief. I sidled past her, my cock bulging in my underwear despite my best efforts. Something was clearlyseriouslywrong with me.

The shower was a cramped affair- if you've ever been to South America, you know what I mean. A thin sheet of glass (swiftly fogged) separated me from the outside, but also caused my elbows and knees to bump, time after time, as I attempted to rid myself of the worst of the rainforest gunk. In short, averyuncomfortable affair.

I was so focused on getting clean, I didn't hear the door to the bathroom open, but I felt its effect- a chill breeze flowed through the bathroom, beating back the warmth of the shower. I bit my lip to avoid chastising my mother, she probably needed to brush her teeth or something. I pushed on the glass, sticking my head out to make sure I wasn't about to be murdered, but surprised myself with the reality of the situation.

The door was still closed.

I felt goosebumps rise on my neck as I slowly withdrew to the warm water. I remembered a similar breeze, and what it had preceded atop the pyramid, a sense of disquiet growing in the pit of my stomach. Some kind of Amazonian ghost, perhaps? A vengeful spirit sent to haunt me for stealing its marriage collar? Or perhaps some kind of obscure heavy metal leeching out of the collar, flowing through my veins and making me do insane and inexplicable things.

I reached up, struggling with the stone around my neck. I'd gotten it on, I could get it off, right? Try as I might, I wasn't able to loosen its clutches on my throat. If anything, it seemed to get tighter, clenching down on me, restricting the blood flow until I released it, gasping for air.

After a moment of constriction, I felt it relent, my blood flowing once again. It pounded in my ears, and I saw stars as I leaned against the wall of the shower, water still spraying onto me. What had I gotten myself into for the sake of college credit?

My body, it seemed, wasn't particularly concerned with my near-death experience. Down south, I was feeling the blood flow a little bit more acutely, my penis standing fully at attention. The breeze had lessened with my reprieve from imminent death, but evidently whatever power had caused it was still having an effect.

I shut the water off, stumbling from the shower, dripping on the floor as I rubbed a window into the mirror. A clear red band was flushed around my neck where it choked me, even as it presently dangled loosely. The message was clear:Don't fuck with the collar.

Another cool breeze washed over me, but this time it was accompanied by the dooractuallyswinging open. I spun (almost slipping with my haste) to behold my mother standing in the doorway, totally naked.

"Are you ready to talk?" Her chest was heaving as she asked, as though she'd just run a mile. I could see a red mark around her neck, identical to my own, evident against the paleness of her skin.

Her hair was still up in a towel, piled in that strange way women do, but the rest of her was bare for my appraisal.

Obviously, I wasn't going tonotlook, given the degree to which my erection was still raging.

I took a moment to fully take her in, for the first time in the light instead of the dimness of a tent, or the frantic (and partially-clothed) tussle we'd been through at the pyramid. Her breasts and stomach were slightly sagging, her love handles evident with cellulite, and wrinkles had certainly claimed her joints and face. Intellectually I could see all of these things, but to me, they couldn't have mattered less.

"I'm ready." I crossed the tile between us in two steps, my arms encircling her as her mouth found mine. Our tongues fought, needy and urgent. I lifted her, pulling her legs around me, arms flexing as I began to carry her out into the bedroom. Our tongues fought for a moment, before our kiss broke off, interrupted by her towel falling between us, eliciting a surprisingly girlish giggle from my mother.

"I'm glad we have this chance to have a serious discussion about it." She pushed the fabric back from her face, twisting her head this way and that as she extricated herself from the towel, letting her hair fall loose and wet against me. "It's not okay to masturbate to women without their consent." I paused, a foot from the bed, but her eyes glittered mischievously.

She ground her labia against my raging cock, her labia practically dripping with desire. I kissed her again, tasting her saliva, our lust flowing between us again, just as it had next to the river. Her powerful legs momentarily clenched around my hips as we went horizontal, breaking away to crawl backwards spreading before me. Her pink pussy lips were open and vulnerable to my cock, and I surged up the bed towards her, still feeling the breeze encouraging me into her incestuous embrace.

"I'm sorry mom, I won't do it again." I grinned at her, positioning myself at her hot, wet entrance.

"There are a lot of things we shouldn't do again." Her words were fast, spilling out of her with evident excitement as she glanced meaningfully down to my penis where it touched her genitals, giving me pause once again.

"I don't think we have a choice." I rubbed my cockhead up and down her folds, causing her to gasp with pleasure. I reached up and tugged at her collar. "We're married now, remember?" Her eyes were gorgeous- dark green of the rainforest itself and filled with carnal desire.

"I guess we can do itone more time-" She bit her lip, and I felt her legs wrap around my back, her strong thighs pulling me into her, my manhood parting her flower petals as she lubricated me with her vaginal fluid. "-just because wehaveto."

I pushed my hips forward, eliciting an exhalation which might've been a'yesss'in another universe. This was, of course, not something wewantedto do, so it certainlywasn't, simply an involuntary exhalation from my mother as I sank my penis into her.

All part of the preparation for ourvery seriousfamilial conversation.

This wasn't what we'd done at the apex of the pyramid, that had been rough and fast. This was more of a languid insertion, firmly pressing inside the hole that had birthed me. I kept eye contact as I did so, watching hers roll back, eyelids fluttering in the excess of the moment.

"God, you're so fucking good!" I breathed, gently pulling back to coat my throbbing member in her juices before pushing forward, more urgently. She pulled me in, her legs straining to get me inside her faster, deeper.

"Wecan'tenjoy this! Ohfuck!" She moaned as if to remind me, her hands finding the back of my head, pulling me into a hard, desperate kiss. As she did so, I worked my hips back and forth, her love juices finally allowing me to penetrate her fully.

Despite her words, and the shame roiling in my mind, I couldn't help but relish the feeling of my unprotected penis in her tight slit. She was better than any fleshlight, better than any girl I'd gotten into the sack, the feeling of bare skin on bare skin a panacea to the near-strangulation I'd experienced in the bathroom.

I needed her, biblically, emotionally, physically. Dr. Waters was again banished, giving me back my Abigail, my mother.

I started to thrust.

Thiswas closer to our experience on the pyramid, my heartbeat in my ears as I pulled out, and slammed back into the vagina that had made me. Despite our evident acquiescence, still intently experiencing the taboo of the moment.

"Fuck! Oh fuck! Yes! Fuck me baby! Fuck your mother!" The university professor who'd taught me my multiplication tables was replaced by a moaning whore, begging her son to stuff his meat into her womanly hole.

Her flow of obscenities continued unabated as I pounded her, our union a mockery of 'missionary'. We weren't missionaries, we were the priest and priestess of an ancient goddess, one whose domain was sex, breeding, and unadulterated lust between mother and son.

I felt wetness overflowing from the union of our flesh, and pulled out momentarily, feeling my mother's excitement squirt out of her, splashing onto my testicles and the bedclothes. Her entire body shuddered, and her hips worked desperately to recapture my manhood within her. I swiftly pushed back in, rewarded by feeling her orgasm crashing over her, the pussy I so craved clenching around me like a much younger woman's.

Aplap, plap, plap, plapsound filled the room as I found my rhythm, and the moisture from our combined fluids flowing between us in a perverse circulatory system. The occasional clack of our stone necklaces joining it as we kissed, broke apart, and redoubled our lovemaking efforts.

"Fuck! Yes! Oh! Fuck!" Mom's cursing punctuated each of my thrusts. She'd never said anything like this around me before, and I marvelled at the change in her personality. This was a different side to her, a more real, vulnerable side that I relished in my depravity.

Her legs suddenly became iron, redoubling their effort to keep me immersed within her. I rammed home, unable to withdraw again, bottoming out against my mother's cervix as her scream-moans of ecstasy subsided. Instead, she fixed me with a look of pure sex, of lust and desire unbound by familial ties.

"Fertilize me." Her voice was a command, not a request. It came from somewhere deep within, and carried the authority of the goddess with it. "Cum deep inside and breed with your mother." Her tone rose in volume, becoming practically hysterical. As she did so, her pussy began working around me. Rippling folds of tightness urging me on from back to front, seeking to milk me directly against her cervical opening.

"Have my baby! Get pregnant!" I grunted, feeling her actions having their desired effect. I managed to thrust again- once, twice, thrice, I spurted my load into her depths, semen spraying out of my cockhead as my mother's supernaturally-pleasurable hole goaded the sperm from my balls.

"Yesss, baby!" Mom hissed, running her hands through my hair, keeping my full length immersed within her as I emptied jets of love into her. "Give me your child!" Our collars clinked together, reminding me of our situation, the true nature of our illicit copulation.

My sticky seed coating the inside of her hole, painting her waiting womb with our shared DNA. I felt my penis deflating within my mother. I slid out, slowly, her legs ceasing to restrain me, a waterfall of jizz gushing from her pussy to stain the bed sheets further.

"What the fuck did we just do?" I shook my head, clearing it of the haze I didn't realize was clouding it. Mom looked down, her legs spread, at the mess I'd made between them and the fluid she'd squirted across the bedspread.

"We-we-" She stammered, her fingers wrapping around the necklace. She looked up at me in shock. "We enjoyed it! I thought we agreed we wouldn't do that!" She blanched.

"N-no we didn't! It was the collars!" I insisted, grabbing a towel to wipe myself down. "I didn't like thatat all!" My mother nodded, biting her lip.

"It was- itwasn'tus, it was the collars." She muttered, seemingly to convince herself, as much as it was to convince me. "There must be some kind of field around them, some sort of..." She made a gesture towards the nebulous middle distance.

"It doesn't matter what they're doing." I stated, more firmly than I actually felt. "What matters is that we get home and get them off, as soon as possible!" I cast about for some form of clean clothing, and sank onto the other bed in the room.

"Yes, we need to get home!" Mom muttered, absent-mindedly stroking her midriff, as if caressing a pregnant belly yet to appear.

I found the image more erotic than I'd like to admit, my cock twitching reflexively. I wasn't about to act on it, the breeze having disappeared from the room with the diminishment of our arousal.

It seemed to me to be both a catalyst, and a barometer of our shared desires, bringing with it the scent of the rainforest. It was a herald of animalistic desire, of the ball-slapping breeding sex we both seemed to suddenly crave.

It made me feel twitchy, paranoid, out of control.

I fumbled with my bag, seeking underwear and a pair of shorts to protect me from the grasp of the necklace's powers (as unsuccessful as that had been at the pyramid). When I turned back, my mother was still there, luxuriating in the feeling of my gelatinous globs dribbling from her.

"Mom!" I exclaimed.

She looked around, as if surprised, closing her legs.

"I'm-I'm going to rinse off." She stated, absent-mindedly. She rose, drifting, as if in a haze, towards the bathroom.

I resolved to avoid any more amorous encounters for the rest of the trip. One eighteen hour plane trip and we'd be home, and could figure out exactly what was happening to us.

Our evening was perhaps less impacted than our afternoon. Thankfully, with the layout of the room, we didn't have to risk sleeping in the same bed (although hers was half-sodden). Nevertheless, I'd be lying if I said I didn't wake up several times, my erection throbbing with desire.

I fought the urge to rise, to join her in bed and fill my mother again and again. However, concerningly, at no point did I feel the telltale chill breeze. My desires were changing, focusing on my own mother, and my body was responding of its own accord, without even the interference of the collar's magic. Unfortunately, I didn't even get the time to sleep off the effects of our previous encounter, the metaphorical road was calling.

Manaus to Panama City, Panama City to Houston, Houston to Minneapolis.

Airport security wasn't as big a deal as I thought it would be, apparently the stones used to fashion them were non-ferrous, so while we received a few odd looks, I could discount them as being in regard to our large rucksacks, rather than the necklaces affixed around our throats. We found ourselves in a small café, sitting uncomfortably in silence, nursing dark coffee (the best thing about Brazil) and trying to avoid discussing the obvious.

"So I've been thinking-" Mom was the first to break the silence, but she bit back her words before her sentence could crystalize her thought. She looked around surreptitiously, and leaned in. "I've been thinking we might've picked up something in the Amazon, something biological?" Her eyes searched my face for reaction, her tone more questioning than authoritative. I pursed my lips.

"I don't think this is a virus, or whatever, it feels... Different." I said, flexing my hand, and glancing around at the early-morning airport crowd. "I don't feel anything when we're not fu-"

"When we're notbeing affected." Mom interrupted me. I almost laughed at her euphemism. I'd been inside her mere hours ago, but she was still leery of voicing it. I continued:

"When we're not being affected, right. It's like when Frodo gets seen by Sauron, just a presence comes over us and we lose control." She nodded, sipping thoughtfully at her drink, still scientifically-minded despite the unscientific nature of our situation.

"Perhaps some kind of astronomical phenomenon? A solar flare or something that we're particularlygeneticallysusceptible to?" Her voice was low, but still serious.

"I don't think the lights would still be on if there was a solar flare strong enough to disrupt our brains." I supposed. She was grasping at straws, and we both knew it. She rubbed her temples in consternation.