Down the river

The mud had dried over his shirt and bare bottoms. As he continue to move away from the muddy area of the jungle, Jake realized how silly he must look; If somebody had seen him walking across the jungle in this state they would have confused his chest and legs with that of a stone sculpture, a very obscene and naked sculpture. The clay had enter into every crevice of his muscular lower body and now dry, was making his journey more uncomfortable... the smell of wet dirt and sounds of buzzing insects did not help either...

The river did not sound like a bad idea now, he could wash himself and recharge some energy, once he was well rested he would figure it out what to do next; after swaying his hands around his crotch to scare an annoying fly, Jake set course towards the river.

It was less than an hour later that he heard the unmistakable rumble of running water, and a few minutes later the shining sparks of the river. A quick but careful inspection of the area advised him it was safe to bathe, so after placing the bag containing his precious treasure in a secure position of the river's bank, he ran into the deepest part of the river---A dozen of inches of water reaching his knees.

This would do- Jake thought, and lowering himself until the water reached his abs, he started to scrub the mud from his arms, legs and -after instinctively looking round- his butt's crack.

The bath was refreshing, and much necessary. He sat on the bedrock of the river for at least 20 minutes, and only then occurred to him that washing and tending his shirt under the sun would also be a good plan, by ripping the fabric he could manufacture a decent cover for his exposure and join civilization. The boy didn't anticipate the feeling of vulnerability the taking of his last piece of garments would cause- Even on the loneliness of the jungle he felt watched.

_You are being ridiculous Jake Johnson.- _He said to himself, moving the wet cloth of shirt across his chest and abs, to finally massage his balls and prominent cock with it. He was young, hot, soon to be rich and out of danger...

A flock of birds leaving the crowns of the nearest trees took out the thoughts forming on his head, later there will be time for anything... and with a final squeeze to his shirt he finished his wash and headed back to the bag hanging at the edge of the river.

Maybe another look to that golden shine on his bag was the thing he needed.

...But before he could lift the lid of the messenger bag, the cold feel of metal touched his lower back, and a raspy but cunning voice asked:

-Are you missing something Tarzan boy?