Chapter 1: Welcome to the jungle
When the journey is long there will be ups and downs.
The taxi driver squeezed another few miles out of the scooter's overworked engine, the rustic streets of Ubud feeling more like an endless gravel path. The sun was setting, casting long and ominous shadows through Bali's emerald veins. The rich scent of damp earth mingled with exotic florals, igniting a tingling sensation across David's skin. He couldn't believe he was finally doing this.
The scooter jerked to a stop among the tangled cluster of vegetation that lined the roadside.
"Terimah kasih," offered David in his best Indonesian, given his thick Australian accent.
David threw his backpack over his shoulder and took a deep breath, Against the backdrop of the thick, primeval jungle, the bamboo structures of the retreat seemed like a delicate offering, a tranquil sanctuary promising respite from the chaos of the world beyond.
He walked down the narrow path towards the retreat, his footsteps loud against the wild cacophony of the jungle. With every step, he felt the guilt of his rebellion returning to gnaw at him.
His friends had labeled him crazy for leaving the safety of a successful marketing career and an even more successful girlfriend. But after endless months of battling anxiety, mediocre moments, and expectations not his own, he realized it was time to uncover his true self.
As he approached the open-air pavilion at the center of the retreat, a gentle breeze parted the lush canopy, giving way to the warm Indonesian sun.
He could see other guests stretching, smiling, and laughing, already lost in the enchanting spells of this spiritual haven.
"Welcome! There's a face I haven't seen yet," came from a man to David's left. He was carrying some palm leaves and a large knife. His torn shirt with a faded emblem on it along with some shorts and some sort of Balinese footwear gave David the impression that he definitely wasn't here for the relaxation. David concluded he was either Balinese or at least Indonesian.
"I am Jaya," the man said in fairly smooth English.
"David," replied David, meeting him with a strong handshake. Jaya had a strong grip, a working mans handshake.
"You are an Aussie hey?!" Jaya exclaimed.
"We have many Aussies around here, not too far from Kuta Surfing grounds." He noticed my gaze taking in the entire area, and with a comforting smile on his tanned face he continued, " Yes, it's quite a place. Bamboo buildin's, and we blend right in with nature. Makes ya feel at one with the universe, eh?"
David nodded, taken aback by Jaya's immediate connection with him and intuition about his emotions. The raw kindness of the man instantly put him at ease.
It was a sharp contrast to the rigid walls he'd built around himself; the barriers he'd need to dismantle in order to truly immerse in the healing journey before him.
"Anyway, we have to get you settled in, the sun's not going to wait for you," Jaya finally said, breaking the silence.
David reached his bungalow with some accurate directions from Jaya after winding up a short but steep hill past other bungalows. With each step, the jungle canopy to the north became more visible and before David knew it he was standing at his front step looking back out to the afternoon sun lighting up the tree tops. He dropped his bag and simply took in the view.
David's gaze broken by a pair of young ladies walked past, their foreign chatter stopping momentarily to smile at David. They were gorgeous, dressed in their Yoga pants and singlet tops with Yoga mats under their arms and water bottles swinging by their hips.
One of them shot him a smile which sent a warm sensation through David's body. He quickly turned his attention back to his surroundings, trying to focus on the peace he hoped to find within.
The bungalow was charming, if a bit simplistic. It consisted of a main bedroom and a smaller room that was set up as a private bathroom. The bed was made simple of straw mats, and the walls were open to the jungle outside. For someone like David, unused to such minimal accommodations, it felt like a testament to his determination.
If he could embrace the rugged nature surrounding him, perhaps he could truly begin the work of chipping away at the anxieties that plagued his existence.
David stripped off his travelling attire and prepared himself to head down to the pavilion, where he would attend the afternoon Yoga session.
David had been practicing yoga for a year and he found it relaxing but he knew there was more to the discipline, more layers. His journey was born around the desire to uncover the deeper connection he had read about.
The connection of body and mind, the one with the cosmic forces surrounding him, the ultimate oneness with the universe.
With renewed motivation, he made his way down the short path towards the pavilion where the afternoon yoga session would be held.
As he entered the space, he was greeted by the gentle clatter of bamboo mats being unfolded. He spotted a few familiar faces from the walk in, they smiled and nodded before resuming their preparations.
His eyes, however, were immediately drawn to a woman who stood up the front. A dark haired young woman who was chatting to some patrons.
She was dressed in a way you might imagine a true bohemian might, in soft earthy tones and loose, comfortable fabrics. Her shining black hair tumbled in soft waves over her shoulders and down her back.
As she caught his gaze from a distance, she paused for a moment, mid-sentence, before turning back to the conversation.
David's heart fluttered as he watched her, eager to make her acquaintance. He steeled himself against his desire to approach her and instead focused on the calming breaths instructed by the girl as they began the yoga session.
Throughout the session, David's attention continued to drift towards the woman time and time again. She was captivating, with a lithe and nimble build and mesmerizing eyes that seemed to hold within them the wisdom of the ages.
The graceful way she moved through each pose revealed a deep-seated connection with her body, and the quiet confidence with which she held each asana only served to heighten David's fascination.
As they moved through the sequence, he couldn't help but notice the delicate tattoos that adorned her skin. They snaked along her arms, wrists, and legs, each one whispering of a spiritual truth that intrigued David more than he was willing to admit.
"Nama
-stay for the final relaxation," the woman, who David now knew was Mira, instructed in her soft, sultry voice. Her eyes swept across the participants, lingering on David's for a moment before she closed her own and led them into the corpse pose.
David's heart drummed in his chest as he lay there, the heat of her gaze still imprinted on his skin. He willed himself to focus on the practice, to breathe and let go, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about the enchanting yoga instructor.
As the session began to wind down, Mira guided them through a final relaxation pose, Savasana. David lay on his mat, trying to clear his mind, but all he could see were visions of her tattoos, her eyes, her smile.
After the final Om, David rolled up his mat and made his way towards Mira, who was engaged in conversation with a few other participants. As he approached, he couldn't help but notice the way her dark hair fell over her shoulder, the way her lips curled into a smile as she spoke.
"Hi, I'm David," he introduced himself, extending a hand.
Her hand slid into his—warm, dry skin against his own sweaty palm. "Mira." Her voice was low honey, eyes crinkling at the corners. "First time at Shanti?" She held his gaze a beat too long, and David felt a familiar jolt, the kind he’d promised himself he’d ignore.
"Yeah," he managed, clearing his throat. "Needed… a reset." He gestured vaguely towards the jungle canopy visible beyond the bamboo pillars.
"Reset is good," Mira said, a knowing tilt to her head. She released his hand, the ghost of her touch lingering. "The jungle has a way of peeling back the layers. Sometimes even the ones you cling to." Her gaze flickered over him, assessing. "Don’t fight it, David. Just breathe." She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod towards his mat. "Tomorrow morning. Sunrise session. Don’t be late."
She turned back to the other students—a German couple chatting quietly and a woman named Mel, who David vaguely remembered nodding to earlier. Mel offered a bright, open smile. "Intense, right? Mira’s amazing."
David mumbled agreement, his attention still tethered to Mira as she moved with liquid grace towards a stack of bolsters. He forced himself to unpack his mat further away, near the open edge of the pavilion where the humid jungle air pressed close. Focus on the inner self, not the incredibly sexy yoga instructor covered in mystical ink. Easier said than done. Every fluid adjustment Mira made, every time her loose top gaped slightly revealing the intricate script tattooed along her collarbone, was a distraction. He caught glimpses of spiraling patterns snaking down her toned arms, disappearing beneath her sleeves, hinting at stories etched onto her skin.
The next morning, predawn silence hung thick, broken only by the rhythmic hum of insects and the distant cry of a bird. The air was cool and damp. David arrived early, laying his mat facing the east, where the first slivers of light were staining the sky violet. Others trickled in – Mel, the German couple, a few others. Mira appeared like a shadow detaching from the jungle itself, silent and serene. She didn’t greet anyone, simply took her place at the front, her breathing already deep and slow.
The session flowed. Sun Salutations warmed their bodies as the sky shifted through bruised purples into fiery oranges. David tried to lose himself in the movement, the stretch, the rhythm of his breath. But his awareness kept snagging on Mira. The way her spine arched like a bow in Cobra, the ripple of muscle in her shoulders as she held Downward Dog, the sheen of sweat making her skin glow under the strengthening light. Her instructions were soft, guiding, but underneath, he sensed a fierce energy, a contained power that vibrated beneath her calm exterior.
They moved through standing poses, balances, twists. Once, during a deep lunge, their eyes met as she adjusted Mel’s posture nearby. That intense, knowing look again. It didn’t feel like instruction; it felt like she was seeing through him. David’s skin prickled, a mix of unnerving vulnerability and undeniable attraction. He stumbled slightly in Tree Pose, earning a gentle, amused glance from Mel.
Finally, Mira guided them down to the mats for Savasana, the final relaxation. "Let go," her voice washed over them, a low murmur against the awakening jungle sounds. "Surrender the body to the earth. Release the mind. Allow everything to simply… be." She moved silently among them, a whisper of bare feet on bamboo. A light touch here, a subtle adjustment to a neck there. David lay flat, eyes closed, trying to dissolve the tension coiled in his shoulders, the chaotic buzz in his head. The mat was firm beneath him, the air warm on his skin.
He heard her approach, the soft pad of her feet stopping near his head. He kept his eyes closed, focusing on the rise and fall of his breath. Then, a shift in the air. Warmth, closer. The scent of her – sandalwood, sweat, something uniquely jungle – intensified.
He felt the subtle depression of the mat beside his shoulder. Then, without warning, a different pressure. Warm, yielding softness draped across his face. He startled, eyes flying open, only to be enveloped in darkness, the world reduced to scent and touch and suffocating heat.
Mira had settled herself directly over his face, kneeling backwards, her thighs framing his head. The thin fabric of her yoga shorts offered no real barrier. He was buried in the heat and primal scent of her crotch, the firm, smooth globes of her ass pressing down on his nose and mouth. Her inner thighs squeezed the sides of his face. Above him, just visible as his eyes strained upwards past the curve of her buttocks, hung the soft, heavy weight of her breasts, swaying slightly, the dark nipples visible through the damp, clinging fabric of her tank top. They brushed against his forehead.
David froze. Shock, disbelief, and a raw, immediate surge of lust locked his muscles. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was pinned beneath her, engulfed by her.
He felt her shift minutely, pressing herself down harder onto his mouth. The damp heat intensified. The musky, earthy scent of her filled his nostrils, thick and intoxicating. It was obscene. Intimate. Utterly overwhelming. His cock, already half-hard from her proximity throughout the session, throbbed painfully against his loose cotton pants, trapped and demanding.
A low hum vibrated through her body, a sound of pure, satisfied pleasure that resonated against his face. It wasn’t directed at him; it was a private sound, emanating from deep within as she settled her weight more firmly. Her pussy lips, warm and swollen, ground deliberately against his mouth through the thin fabric. He could feel the distinct, soft ridge of her labia, the dampness soaking through.
He inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring against her skin, drawing her scent deeper. His tongue, almost involuntarily, pressed against the damp cotton barrier, tasting salt and musk. A choked sound escaped him, muffled against her flesh.
Mira shifted again, rolling her hips in a slow, deliberate circle, grinding her cunt onto his lips. The friction was electric. She moaned softly, a low, throaty sound that echoed the jungle’s pulse. Her hands braced on his chest, fingers digging in slightly for leverage as she rocked. Her breasts swayed heavily above, grazing his forehead with each movement, the hard peaks of her nipples rasping against his skin.
"Surrender, David," her voice was a husky whisper, barely audible over the pounding of his own blood in his ears. "Just… breathe me in." She arched her back slightly, pushing her ass harder against his face, forcing his mouth open wider against her. "Taste the jungle. Taste… release." She punctuated the word with another slow, deep grind, the heat radiating from her core scorching his lips. "Fuck… yes… just like that." Her words dissolved into another moan as she pressed down, demanding his mouth service her through the thin, soaked fabric, making him a prisoner beneath her consuming heat and weight. The world shrank to the slick, musky darkness enveloping him, the rhythmic pressure of her grinding hips, the impossible, suffocating, all-consuming reality of Mira perched on his face, claiming him right there on the bamboo floor as the Balinese dawn bled crimson through the trees.
The world shrank to the slick, musky darkness enveloping him, the rhythmic pressure of her grinding hips, the impossible, suffocating, all-consuming reality of Mira perched on his face, claiming him right there on the bamboo floor as the Balinese dawn bled crimson through the trees. David’s lungs burned. Panic warred violently with the thick, molten lust pooling low in his gut. He couldn’t breathe, only inhale her – the deep, earthy tang of her arousal soaking through the thin cotton of her shorts, mingling with sweat and jungle heat. His tongue pressed flat against the damp barrier, tasting salt, musk, the undeniable essence of her cunt.
He bucked instinctively, a desperate jerk of his hips seeking air, leverage, anything. His cock strained painfully against the confines of his own loose pants, a rigid, trapped ache.
Mira’s thighs clamped down like iron bands on either side of his head. MIRA GRIPS TIGHTER. The sudden, crushing pressure silenced his struggle instantly. Stars exploded behind his eyelids. Her weight settled deeper, grinding his nose hard into the yielding heat at her core. A low, satisfied hum vibrated through her body, resonating against his cheekbone.
"Shhh," she breathed, the sound thick and dark. Her voice wasn't gentle; it was a command, rough-edged with her own arousal. "Stop fighting. Feel it." She rolled her hips again, a slow, deliberate circle that dragged her swollen lips across his imprisoned mouth. The friction sent sparks through his nerves. "This is surrender. This is letting go." Her fingers, which had been braced on his chest, slid upwards, tangling roughly in his sweat-damp hair. She gripped tight, pulling his head harder into her crotch. "Fucking breathe me in, David. Taste what you've been chasing."
He gasped against her, a ragged intake choked by her flesh. The scent was overwhelming, primal. It flooded his senses, bypassing thought. His tongue moved again, no longer fighting, but exploring the damp fabric, tracing the distinct outline of her slit beneath. A shudder ripped through Mira. Her hips jerked forward, grinding herself onto his mouth with a sharp, needy thrust.
"Yes," she hissed, her voice cracking. "Like that. Use your fucking tongue."
David obeyed. Instinct took over. He pushed his tongue harder against the soaked cotton, probing the seam of her shorts where they met her thigh, seeking the source of that intoxicating heat. He found the swollen bud of her clit, a hard nub beneath the fabric. He circled it, pressing firmly.
Mira cried out, a sharp, guttural sound that echoed off the bamboo rafters. Her thighs trembled against his temples. Her grip on his hair tightened painfully. "Oh, fuck! Harder!" She rocked against his face, riding the pressure of his tongue. "Don't you fucking stop!"
He didn't. He licked and pressed, his movements growing bolder, fueled by her gasps, the desperate clench of her thighs, the sheer fucking power of having her unraveling above him. The thin cotton barrier was torture. He wanted skin. He wanted to taste her directly, bury his face in her wetness. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, tugging down desperately.
Mira understood. With a swift, almost violent movement, she lifted her hips just enough. David yanked the shorts and the scrap of underwear beneath them down her thighs, past her knees. Cool jungle air washed over his overheated face for a split second before the scorching, naked heat of her pussy slammed down onto his mouth.
The sensation was electric. Raw. Unfiltered. Her skin was impossibly soft, slick with her own arousal. The musky scent intensified tenfold, thick and heady. David groaned, the sound muffled against her flesh. He plunged his tongue deep into her wetness, tasting her fully – salt, musk, something uniquely her. He lapped at her entrance, greedy, then circled her clit again, now bare and throbbing against his lips.
"FUCK!" Mira screamed, her body arching violently. Her hands flew back, bracing herself on his thighs behind her. She rode his face with abandon, grinding her cunt onto his mouth, fucking herself on his tongue. Her juices slicked his chin, his nose. "Oh god, yes! Right there! Lick me! Lick my fucking cunt!"
David was lost. The world dissolved into the slick heat enveloping him, the rhythmic clench of her inner muscles around his probing tongue, the desperate cries tearing from her throat. His own arousal was a white-hot agony trapped in his pants. He reached down, fumbling with his drawstring, desperate for relief. He freed his cock, thick and straining, the cool air a shock against its heated skin. He gripped himself, stroking roughly in time with the frantic thrusts of Mira’s hips.
She felt the movement beneath her. Her head snapped down, her dark eyes, wild and dilated, locking onto his hand pumping his cock. A feral grin split her face. "That's it," she panted, her voice ragged. "Stroke that cock while you eat me. Fucking take it."
Her words sent another jolt through him. He pumped faster, his thumb rubbing roughly over the slick head. His tongue worked her clit with relentless pressure, circling, flicking. Mira’s moans escalated into sharp, rhythmic cries. Her thighs clamped his head with crushing force. Her whole body tensed, coiled like a spring.
"David! I'm... I'm gonna..." Her warning was cut off by a guttural scream as her orgasm ripped through her. Her cunt pulsed violently around his tongue, flooding his mouth with her release. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically, milking his tongue as wave after wave of pleasure shook her. She ground down onto him, riding the convulsions, her cries echoing in the dawn-lit pavilion.
David kept licking, swallowing her essence, stroking his cock furiously as he felt her shuddering climax. The sight, the taste, the feel of her coming apart on his face pushed him to the edge. His balls tightened. Pressure built unbearably at the base of his spine.
Mira, panting heavily, slumped slightly but didn't lift off. She looked down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded, sated, yet still burning with intensity. She watched his hand working his cock, saw the desperate tension in his jaw. A slow, predatory smile touched her lips.
"Come for me," she commanded, her voice husky and raw. She shifted her weight, grinding her still-sensitive clit against his chin. "Spill it. Right fucking now."
The command, combined with the lingering taste of her climax and the relentless friction of his own hand, shattered his control. With a choked roar muffled against her thigh, David came. Thick ropes of cum spurted hotly onto his stomach, his hand, the bamboo mat beneath him. His body convulsed, hips jerking uncontrollably as the orgasm tore through him, leaving him gasping, trembling, utterly spent beneath her.
Mira held him there, her weight still pressing down, her thighs still locked around his head. She watched the tremors subside, her breathing slowly returning to normal. The only sounds were the frantic chirping of unseen birds and their own harsh breaths mingling in the humid air. She finally lifted herself slightly, just enough to look down at his face, glistening with her wetness, his eyes wide, stunned, utterly wrecked.
She traced a finger through the mess on his stomach, bringing it to her lips. Her tongue flicked out, tasting him. Her gaze locked onto his, unreadable, ancient. The crimson dawn light painted stark shadows across her face, highlighting the intricate spirals of ink snaking down her neck. The jungle pressed in, silent witness.