It's a Jungle Out There

This is a long story with not much sex. If you read it I hope you like it.

IT'S A JUNGLE OUT THERE

"Who was that?" Rena asked me.

I sat in the little bistro trying to digest what, over the last few minutes, had just occurred. Two very separate worlds of mine had collided. I looked up to see Rena's beautiful, exotic face, long dark hair, golden tanned complexion, and high cheekbones, staring at me with a perplexed look on her face.

I paused, maintaining eye contact, and took a deep breath.

"That," I began, "was Jasmine." I told her with a long exhalation of breath.

Rena cocked her head, brows knit, staring at me, still questioning. Suddenly the light turned on and she got it.

"That was your Jasmine!?" She asked, incredulous. Her mind was trying to associate what she had previously heard with what she had just seen.

"Rena, honey," I began, "she and I were together a long time ago. I haven't seen her in five or six years or more." I said.

"I just didn't know that she was so, so.... ". She began.

"I know," I interrupted her. "I probably need to tell you the whole story." I said.

Rena sat and stared at me. She gave me one single nod as if to say, 'let's hear the story'.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Nine years ago

Other than a one week goodwill chaperoned church trip to Mexico, I had never been farther away than a few hours from my rural home before I enrolled as a freshman at Taft University. The small universe of people I had known were restricted to the other agricultural families near our tiny town of Benton. The fact that my parents were deeply religious and raised the family that way further perpetuated my naïveté.

My parents were cautiously happy that I had received an agricultural scholarship at Taft. But I also think they were worried about my being away from home

in a college environment.

And now, suddenly, I was in a dorm room at college along with hundreds of other young people my age. My roommate, Charlie, was from Chicago. At first I suspected he was a little disappointed that he got stuck with the hick from the country as a roommate, but as time passed we became friends.

The stories my fellow dorm mates told shocked me. I'd had a girlfriend in high school but all we had ever done was hold hands and kiss. Now I was hearing the most outrageous descriptions of sexual debauchery. I think the guys on my dorm floor enjoyed trying to shock me with their experiences. I wondered about all the things they told me. Could all these stories be true? Do people actually do all of this to each other?

Another surprising situation was that the boys dorms and the girls dorms were mixed within the same building. Different floors but the same buildings. The boys had the odd floors and the girls had the even floors.

One day I had planned to borrow a book from a girl in my freshman English class. Her dorm was in my building a few floors up from my floor. As I opened the door to her dorm floor I saw two girls leaving the shower room clad only in fairly small towels. I couldn't help it. I turned and stared. They noticed.

One girl turned to the other girl and whispered something, and then they both giggled.

"Hey Owen," the girls called to me.

I turned back to look at them and they both opened their towels to expose their nude bodies. I was completely shocked, as well as sexually excited.

You have to understand, beside once years ago seeing my mother (not sexually exciting whatsoever) accidentally in the bathroom and one of my friends showing me an old low end men's magazine behind the barn just once, I had exactly zero exposure to the female body.

I ogled the roundness of their breasts, the darker pertness of their nipples, and my eyes shifted downward to the mystery of their genitalia. Way too soon the girls covered up and made their way down the hall laughing at my reaction. In my sexually excited embarrassment I completely forgot about the English book.

But the vision of the two coeds played an endless tantalizing mental loop through my brain for a long time afterward.

So to say I was naive and inexperienced would be a huge understatement. Gradually my fellow dorm mates realized how inexperienced I was and I became the subject of great teasing.

Despite my innocence I was still a normal, healthy, sexually charged nineteen year old boy with the same urges. Battling these urges was the deep seeded religious environment I was raised within. Sex was shameful, do not objectify females, sexual activity was saved for marriage, and the purpose of intercourse was strictly for procreation. This was the type of message that I had been raised around.

All these new sexual revelations were completely opposite of the moral teachings I grew up with. The temptations of female companionship struggled with my religious psyche.

So by the time I was a junior at Taft University I was still a virgin. That is not to say I hadn't achieved some form of sexual experience. Mid way through my junior year my sexual history consisted of, one blow job, three hand jobs, the touching of a total of four vaginas and seventeen bare female breasts. (the odd number of breasts is a separate story that is not worth elaborating on).

And then I met Jasmine.

On the weekends at Taft there were always parties to be found. In fact if you looked hard enough there was likely a party any night of the week. Charlie and my other freshman dorm friends were always up for a good party and constantly asked me to join them.

I was intent upon my studies, my parents work ethic ever present in my brain, and so I didn't hit the party scene all that often. Maybe an average of one or two times maximum per month.

Speaking of my studies I was focused on the science of agriculture. I really didn't plan on farming for a living like my family does, but I was interested in ways to make farming in our community and elsewhere better.

There were different opportunities at Taft to study abroad and learn about different concepts from foreign countries. I was extremely interested in the idea of studying somewhere overseas. Perhaps this desire was fueled by my sheltered upbringing and the need to explore as much of the rest of the world as possible. I was hoping to travel somewhere my senior year.

It was early Spring of my junior year and Charlie convinced me to attend a keg party with him and a group of guys that I originally met in the freshmen dorms. The setting was a big open field near the football stadium. There were red and white (the Taft colors) tents set up in the field and you paid ten bucks to get in and drink cheap beer.

I had been to enough of these things that some of the behaviors didn't shock me like they had when I first arrived. True, I was still a virgin and I was still kind of torn about my sexual state. I knew at some point I was going to have full blown sex, I just guess my moral upbringing was pretty hard wired and I didn't pursue the grand prize of intercourse with the same zeal as my friends.

At the party I was hanging out with a clump of my friends just watching the interesting social interactions unfold. At one point I looked up and realized my friends had disbursed. That's when I met Jasmine.

As I was quietly standing amidst the throng of partiers I was bumped by some drunk directly on my elbow. This caused me to spill my nearly full nursed beer on the petite beauty who happened to be walking by at that moment.

"Thanks a lot!" She looked at me frowning.

The beer had spilled on her bare shoulder and down the front of her tank top.

"I am so sorry!" I said to her as I grabbed a napkin out of my back pocket.

I wiped some of the liquid from her bare shoulder and then moved to dab at her shirt. I realized quickly that dabbing at her shirt meant contact with her shapely breasts. Midway to doing so my hand froze before it touched her feminine mounds.

"Uh," I awkwardly said, "here." And I handed her the napkin.

She grabbed the napkin in my hand, but continued holding my hand. All the time her initial scowl turned into a half smile made all the more sexy by her half lidded stare as she watched my fumbling reaction.

"You're not going to finish the job?" She asked me.

"Um, well, I just thought," I stuttered, and nodded toward her chest.

She started laughing.

"I'm just teasing you," she said. "Most guys will take any excuse to cop a quick feel."

I opened my mouth to say something, but blushingly was at a loss for words.

"Well I guess we should meet formally before we get to second base," she said with a smile on the verge of laughter. "I'm Jasmine Duval." She said and extended her right hand to shake mine.

I was still flustered by her statement about second base.

"Hi." Was all I mustered out.

She stared at me with that same half lidded smile. She continued to hold my right hand. We stood that way for several seconds.

"Uh, normally," she said, "when you're introduced you also let the other person know what your name is too." She cocked her head to look at me, still smiling and still holding my hand.

"Yes, sorry," I fumbled out, "I'm Owen Isaacson." I finally said.

"Well, nice to meet you Owen Isaacson." She said as she shook my hand. "Now, why don't you and I find a beer for me to drink, rather than to wear." She said as she grabbed my arm and steered us both toward the kegs.

And with that I spent the entire party with Jasmine. I learned that she was a sophomore but that this was her first year at Taft. She was studying business. She didn't live on campus but in an apartment in a building that her family owned. I told her a little about my rural upbringing.

Physically she was attractive, maybe in a less wholesome way as some of the other girls I dated but still quite good looking. Her hair was blond, or I guess what's called frosted. She was probably a foot shorter than my 6'2", petite, with a tight lean body with a muscular ass and breasts that I guessed were not quite C cups, but close. And as I had noticed, facially she had a sexy half lidded look with a broad inviting smile.

At the end of the evening she asked if I would walk her home. Her apartment was above a restaurant, a place I'd heard of but never been in. It was called Papaya and it was right on the corner in the downtown area next to campus. Papaya had a small coffee shop in front, on the street, and in the back was the

bar. Kind of a hookup spot with a little bit of a wilder reputation.

"My brother owns the building." Jasmine told me.

I was impressed. Beyond the coffee shop/bar there was a to-go pizza place and a mobile phone store on the retail level. Above, on the second level were offices, including her brothers, and then on the third and fourth floor there were residential apartments. That's where Jasmine lived.

"I don't have a roommate right now," she told me as we walked the back stairs to her place.

I was curious where this was all going. Suddenly the brief fumblings in my dorm room seemed at a different level than being alone in an apartment with this attractive girl. I became ever-so slightly nervous.

We entered her apartment and even though I hesitated, at her threshold, as if I was going to leave. She, still holding my arm, overcame my minor hesitation and pulled me in.

"Here, let's sit on the couch." And she pulled me over to it.

I sat on one edge and she sat in the middle. We were side by side, our faces quite close together.

We talked a little and I knew it was time to make a move or not. Finally I leaned in and kissed her. She responded enthusiastically, probing deeply with her tongue. I had my arms around her and her lovely breasts were mashed into my chest. I had a gigantic erection.

After several minutes of kissing she broke away from me.

"I'll be right back," she told me.

I began thinking that we'd gone far enough on our first, not even a date, I prepared to get ready to leave.

It was quickly clear she did not want me to leave yet. She walked back in wearing only the skimpiest of thong underwear, completely topless with her pert high breasts completely opened and exposed.

"I thought I'd better get my clothes in the wash after you spilled beer all over them," she said with that same sexy smile I'd noticed before.

Not that it mattered, but I didn't hear any washing machine running.

She wrapped her nude body around me and my sexual urge won out over my moral upbringing. Jasmine fumbled at the buckle of my jeans as my hands explored her naked, spectacular body. Finally she had me undressed pulling my boxer shorts down over my throbbing erection.

"Wow," she said as she looked at engorged penis, "they grow them big out on the farm!" She exclaimed.

My male ego was pleased with her statement.

We made our way to her bed, the first time for me, fully nude with a girl in a bed. I guess my pent of sexual energy was overloaded and before we even had a chance for intercourse I erupted sexually all over her body and her sheets.

"Whoa!" Jasmine exclaimed, "you were excited. Next time we will go a little slower." She told me.

The next time? Things were looking up!

Jasmine got up and went to the bathroom. She came back with a wet washcloth to clean up my mess. I was a little embarrassed that I'd ejaculated so quickly and so much. I was in totally uncharted sexual waters.

But Jasmine didn't seem to mind. She wiped down the bedding and then started wiping down my leg, my stomach and then my cock. The wiping turned into fondling and then into a full blown cock sucking. I was erect again.

"Okay," she said, "this time we'll do it my way." I silently nodded my agreement.

She had me lie on my back and then she climbed on. She slowly impaled herself on my erect, and apparently good sized, cock. She then rode me at her pace. The sensation for me, losing my virginity, was spectacular. The warm snugness of her vagina was unlike anything I'd ever experienced..

She continued moving back and forth, up and down, finding her own pleasure. Though I was an active participant, make no mistake, Jasmine was piloting this ship. At one point she grabbed my hands and placed them on her pert breasts. The sensations were getting to be too much for me. I knew I would ejaculate again soon, but before that happened Jasmine howled in pleasure, actually stunning me for a second, and then collapsed on top of me. She then sat up, eyes closed, increasing her gyrating pace, moaned again and that's all it took for me. I slumped in physical bliss.

My virginity had been taken.

Once my physical euphoria subsided my thoughts swirled. Had I morally sinned? What is my relationship now with this woman who was a stranger mere hours ago? Do I like her, I think so. Does she like me, or was this just a one night stand for her? I hoped it wasn't a one night stand. Finally, what is the appropriate next step, should I leave?

Jasmine snuggled up next to me, the warmth of her nude body soft against my skin. We were silent but she emitted a soft hum of contentment almost like the purring of a kitten. I was relaxed and content also, but the confusing thoughts remained. What should I do, where is this going, and what does she want?

Shortly afterwards she disentangled herself and went to the bathroom. I lay there for a moment and then sat up on the edge of the bed and began to put my underwear on. Just then Jasmine returned.

"Where do you think you're going?" She asked, with just a bit of an edge to her tone.

"We'll, I, uh, thought I should probably get going," I mumbled in answer.

"Don't you want to stay?" She asked, and walked over, threw her arms around me, and sat on my lap.

I was at a loss. Yes I wanted to stay, I was very attracted to Jasmine. Yes, I also had moral reservations but those seemed to be diminishing quickly. More than anything I had no previous experience with this type of social-sexual protocol.

So I stayed. And we spent the weekend together.

And then I started seeing Jasmine regularly. Since I shared an apartment with three other guys we were normally at Jasmine's place. Now that my virginity had been eclipsed any moral reservations seemed hypocritical to enforce. I couldn't get enough of Jasmine sexually and she seemed just as enthusiastic.

Though sex preoccupied a lot of the time we were together that wasn't all we did. We went to restaurants, participated in different college activities, studied together and did many of the normal things that people dating do. Throughout these first few weeks with Jasmine I discovered something. Beyond the sex I actually grew to care for her.

My roommates noticed my overnight absences and I had to explain. I told them I had a kind of girlfriend now and that I was spending a lot of time with her.

"Who is it?" Charlie asked one evening when all four of us were at our apartment.

I explained that her name is Jasmine and that this is her first year at Taft. I told them I had met her at the all campus party a few weeks ago.

"Is she the chick with the bleach blond hair you were at that party with?" One of my roommates asked.

"Wait a second," Charlie interjected, "is her brother the big dude that owns Papaya?" He asked.

I told them I wasn't sure, I hadn't met her brother yet. But it seemed likely since she said her family owned the building where her apartment was and that was where Papaya was too. We just hadn't discussed this topic yet.

Later, after our other roommates had wandered off, Charlie and I had a brief discussion.

"Owen, " Charlie said to me, "look man I'm glad you have this new girlfriend. You deserve someone good, but just be careful." He told me.

"Careful about what?" I asked him.

"Sometimes sex and true feelings can get mixed up, especially with your first real girlfriend." He said. "Just go slow, take it easy, and keep your eyes wide open."

I thought about what Charlie said and even though I appreciated the concern, I wasn't worried about that now.

Much later I wished I'd paid more attention to what Charlie had said that night.

I did end up meeting Jasmine's brother at Papaya.

"So you're the new dude in my little sis's life," the brother said as he reached out a meaty hand and we shook.

I studied her brother. Physically they were very different in stature. Jasmine was lean and petite, and Claude Francis, that was the brother's name, was big. I could see the facial similarities.

I estimated Claude at six foot three, slightly taller than me but probably seventy or eighty pounds heavier than me. Probably two-forty. Overweight but solid. He had the same half lidded eyes as Jasmine and the broad smile. Only difference was when Claude Francis smiled there was an absence of mirth in his expression.

"Sit down," Claude said as he motioned to the booth he was sitting in. "Have a drink. What'll you have?" He had a booming loud voice.

"Just ice water." I told him.

"Naw, you need a drink," he turned toward the bartender, "Denny bring Owen here a beer."

I decided not to protest. The lean guy, blond hair prematurely balding, behind the bar hustled over with a pint of beer. I also noticed another guy at a back table. He had a stack of papers on the table, maybe receipts. He seemed to be reviewing the information. He was rough looking, dark complected, a shaved head, with tattoos creeping up his neck. He kept glancing over toward our booth.

Claude Francis told me he owned the building but did not operate the bar and coffee shop. He nodded in the direction of the tattooed guy.

"Armon runs the restaurant, I'm just the landlord," Claude said, and the tattooed guy, Armon, stared across the barroom at me and gave me a brief, curt nod..

"You got to come by at night when this place is busy. A lot of action. Lots of people, a lot of fun." Claude added.

"Perhaps I will." I told Claude, knowing that this was definitely not my type of place whatsoever.