Join the best erotica focused adult social network now
Login

Ghosts of the rainforest

"A lone scientist seeks out a species thought by many to be extinct"

11
9 Comments 9
3.5k Views 3.5k
2.0k words 2.0k words
Recommended Read
Gnarled roots snare my ankles; protruding rocks scrape my shins and bruise my weary toes. I struggle upwards through dense vegetation, skirting stinging trees, hacking through vines, my eyes peering ever high into the canopy, fervently following the bright swathe cut by the torch strapped to my forehead. Leeches cling in vain; insects bite for no return. I brush them away with mild disgust, dashing their swollen guts into bloody smears. I force a weary, knowing smile and clamber onwards. I seek what they seek: life.

Higher I climb, through clinging mist and intermittent rain. These Wet Tropics house much of what is left of life on this sorry sphere, these mountains a final refuge for many once-plentiful creatures, and it is my lifetime's work to count and monitor them, chart their inevitable decline.

When primitive life first evolved here, it did so in the absence of oxygen, though released that highly-reactive and toxic gas as a by-product of its respiration. In time, as the air and oceans filled with it, primitive creatures necessarily evolved that could survive its noxious presence. Later - much later - further mutations enabled a singular strain to harness the element's unequalled reactive power, and life, as we have come to understand it, gained a foothold and thrived. Billions of years later, here I stand at the pinnacle of all creation, my sole task to chart life's last bastion's inevitable decline into oblivion.

At ground level, a pair of burning orange orbs betrays a frog, though of which species I can only guess. And there, glowing green amid a sparkling, dew-soaked web, the eyes of an equally anonymous spider. I stride forward, upward, my tireless tortuous climb sadly tearing her night's work asunder. Start again, little one; spin your silk to survive.

The creature I seek has not been seen for almost half a century, is thought by many to be extinct, though its tracks have recently, reportedly, been spotted hereabouts. Incredibly, its kind once swarmed across this world like a plague, yet, like the rest of creation, it now clings to a fevered existence in this single lofty retreat, where the climate is still cool enough, and where the air is still clean enough.

It is asserted by some that we descended from it, and though there are similarities enough, there are many who scoff at the suggestion. 'How could it have made the leap into us? Where is the missing link? Where in the fossil record is the proof?' are all regularly heard rebuffs. However, I have studied them, know them better than anyone alive and am certain we somehow sprung from their seed. Tonight, for the first time, I hope to find one, to be the first for almost fifty years to share their fragile presence and test, first hand, the certainty of my beliefs.

Twigs crackle. Branches snap. The ground shakes. An indistinct black mass leaps from my left. Another springs from my right. I sidestep, crouch, instinctively parry the first attack then block the second with a well-timed kick. Slicing through the darkness, my headlight briefly illuminates the flashing, fleeing, black and amber rump of a big cat. Beside me, broken and breathing its last, its mate purrs and weakly whimpers. In disbelief - for I had merely swatted it aside - I examine its twisted body for signs of injury. Her beautiful head is scarred yet otherwise undamaged; her shoulders likewise. But there! Buried deep into the animal's stripy gut, a smooth wooden shaft, its protruding end starkly splintered. I twist it, tug it, twist again and slide it free. Bound to the shaft by meticulous windings, a gleaming triangle of silver metal, its tip and leading edges ground to savage sharpness. And there, along one blood-smeared edge, carved crude symbols assail me, symbols I recognise from yellowed copies of age-old documents. Their provenance is inexplicable; their presence irrefutable. They silently scream their obscene message. 'Die, fucker!'

I reverently stroke the big cat's head then, after swiftly breaking her neck and closing her grateful eyes, I carefully stow the arrow in my bag and edge carefully forwards, ever upwards, infrared now surreptitiously scanning the canopy for signs of life. An array of reptiles. A multitude of insects. Burrowing beetles; buzzing mosquitoes; processing ants carrying their improbably-large leafy fragments home.

Hack. Climb. Slip. Stumble. Up. Up. Up. For every thousand feet I rise, the temperature drops by around seven degrees, becoming ever more bearable, more hospitable, for the rare creatures I seek. Year on year, as the ice melts, the acid seas deepen, and the climate irrevocably changes, all extant species must climb to escape the rising waters and rising heat, to find environs suitable to their unique adaptations. Rather enigmatically, it is averred by some that the ape I seek - notoriously intelligent and adaptive, yet shy and elusive - climbs for altogether different reasons.

As dawn's first sickly light permeates the canopy, I break through a final wall of mist and leave the cloud forest behind. I have seen the transition countless times on aerial photographs, but this is the first time I have lived it. Up here, the mountain peaks float like verdant islands on a sea of billowing white. Momentarily, I gaze across the nebulous blanket into a dazzling rising sun, then turn and recommence my ascent. From here, the terrain will be kinder, the vegetation less dense, and my progress somewhat quicker.

Calls. I hear calls. Eerie. Other-worldly. Sounds not heard for generations. I pause, hold my breath and listen. Again. Plaintive. Longing. Yearning. My heart almost breaks with the sound. Laying down my machete and backpack, I step gingerly forwards, squinting against the unaccustomed glare, peering upwards into the blue-speckled green.

There. Up there. Oh, my god. Reclining in the crook of a branch. A male. Undoubtedly a male. Broad shoulders. Muscled buttocks and thighs. Lank, matted hair dripping from his bearded head. His flesh - not ghostly pale as legends suggest, but bronzed and gleaming - ripples with his every indolent move, the underlying muscles and tendons distinctly delineated.

antonella_2
Online Now!
Lush Cams
antonella_2

He is a fine specimen, a wonderfully healthy example of his kind. He calls again. Yoooohoooooooooo. Oblivious of my presence, he settles back against the rough trunk and toys with something in his lap. Binoculars snap into place. Focus. Sharp. Sharper. A squeeze then another, followed by a series of lazy tugs. He is playing with... himself. Stroking himself; readying himself.

And here comes the cause of his arousal. From his left - my right - through the now sparse canopy, a female approaches. She is slighter, lighter, and moves with incredible grace, leaping, swinging, crossing the treetops as though skipping across the earth. Long blonde hair flows behind her, while swollen mammaries swing and bounce softly together. Her lithe golden body is hairless except for a dark bush that hides her pudendum. Remarkable. Utterly remarkable. A fleeting glimpse was beyond my expectations - sparse evidence of a single specimen was surely all I ever expected to find - yet now I find myself in the presence of a pair, and almost certainly a mating pair. I am completely enthralled, aware that I could soon be the only living witness to their mythical courtship rituals. Annoyingly, a leafy branch partly blocks my view. Carefully, silently, I skirt around the undergrowth till I find the perfect spot.

The female reaches the male's tree and clambers down the thick trunk towards him. He gazes upwards, licking his lips as she presents her sexual organs for close inspection. Even at this distance, they are evidently glistening, primed with her lubrication. She pauses her descent, her pudendum pressed to his sweating face. He licks her there. Tastes her readiness. Her eyes roll and she mutters a random babble of sound. Hanging effortlessly from a gently-flexing branch and with knees clamped about his head, she enjoys the attentions of his tongue before sliding down his body and resting in his lap. He grunts, adjust his position and expertly enters her. For long, silent moments, they stare into each other's eyes. He kisses a proffered breast then licks and assiduously sucks the other. Again their eyes meet. They kiss and - despite the improbability - I sense there is love between them.

Now they move, or rather, she moves. Up and down. She begins slowly, gently, but builds in speed and intensity till their flesh claps together and the branches shake. Birds call out, flap and flee the scene, but the lovers are seemingly oblivious. The female arches her back. The male grabs her mane and pulls her down onto him and she cries out, shudders, cries out again, then collapses against him. For long minutes he holds her. Strokes her spine. Kisses her neck.

Suddenly reaching up, she grabs the branch and hoists herself clear. Now she hooks her legs over the self-same branch and lowers herself till her inverted head hovers above his lap, her long hair swathing his manhood. She smiles - I swear it - she smiles, then sweeps her hair aside and takes his phallus between her lips in a ritual cleansing that is probably unique in the whole animal kingdom. I am utterly rapt. She sucks. She licks. Sucks again. He strokes himself with his right hand while sampling the flesh of her breasts with his left. A sigh. A murmur. The tremors that shake his body are reminiscent of an orgasm, though surely he is spent and unable to climax again so swiftly? And then the truth hits me. He didn't ejaculate inside her. The rutting was for her pleasure alone. And now this oral stimulation is for his. I am amazed, did not expect sexual sophistication from such relatively primitive creatures.

A shout, a roar, and he is filling her up, spewing his ejaculate into her mouth. For a moment, I feel her eyes fall upon me. I freeze then glance away, momentarily ashamed of my intrusion into their intimacy. She coughs. Clears her throat. Spits his semen towards me. It splatters on the leafy carpet beside my feet. The ground erupts. Vines hum, tighten and whine. I am snatched up. Up. Up. Up.

The world swings sickeningly. Through a thick, ropey mesh, and with intense curiosity, they stare silently at me. Their eyes are impossibly intelligent. Incredibly, the female speaks. Even more incredibly, I understand every word.

'It worked!''

The male laughs.

'Of course! I know their programming inside out.'

'He's gorgeous! What is he?'

The male nods towards me and smiles knowingly.

'OMB37.' In response, the female screws up her eyes and twists her mouth in a parody of non-comprehension. He smiles widely, kisses her nose. 'Organic Monitoring Bot, version 37. Probably hundreds of years old.'

Her face contorts again, this time mimicking incredulity.

'But he looks like new.'

'I know! They are amazing... could be the last of his kind.'

Female eyes narrow; forehead furrows.

'Really?'

'Yeah. Haven't seen one of these beauties for years.'

She bites her lip in classic concern.

'Is that good?'

'Good?' A more subtle smile accompanies his words. 'That power pack is peerless... priceless! And there are parts enough to repair a thousand things around here.'

I speak.

'You... speak!'

The male shrugs. Their lexicon of unconscious gestures is unimaginably complex.

'Yes. Of course. But perhaps what's more remarkable is that you do too.'

He reaches into a hole in the tree behind him and extricates a long, glinting knife. Clasping it between his teeth he swings majestically across the space between us and slides down the rope from which my primitive prison is suspended. Clinging to the net, his face so close I can smell his bitter breath, he smiles again, but this version is regretful, apologetic. The knife inches towards me. I struggle, but to no avail. He presses it to my throat. Green blood gushes. Images crackle and fade. Sounds echo to nothing.

'Sorry, buddy, but we need your parts more than you do.'

*

Published 
Written by Alexandra_A
Loved the story?
Show your appreciation by tipping the author!

Get Free access to these great features

  • Create your own custom Profile
  • Share your erotic stories with the community
  • Curate your own reading list and follow authors
  • Enter exclusive competitions
  • Chat with like minded people
  • Tip your favourite authors

Comments