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Tarzan, The Man update
🕑 Added 2022-05-29 15:00:00 +0000 UTCHe pushed her back, like a parent would shove their child on a swing, and Jane arched in that direction. Not far enough to bring her off her impalement on Tarzan’s cock, but almost. Only its tip remained inside her shiny pink lips. Then her weight carried her back the way she’d come, propelling her into the penetration of her cunt.
Tarzan’s hands clutched her pert buttocks, adding to her momentum with a groping pull that carried her all the way to the flat muscle at the base of his manhood. Her labia parted and lewdly kissed his shaft, all the way down its length, until they were locked together, body to body.
Jane writhed seductively. Tarzan felt her pubic thatch rake over the skin of his loins. The heat boiling from her sex felt like a blacksmith’s flame, trying to burn his member down to the base desire to inseminate her. He worried that she would make him come too fast. With difficulty, Tarzan fought down the urge to erupt.
His balls ached. He was barely able to concentrate on continuing to give his wife her sexual due. His scrotum tensed, his shaft lurching, in the gulping sensations preceding release. He forced it down again and again. No matter his need, he kept his attention on Jane’s pleasure.
He wouldn’t come. Not yet. There were many more delights to wring from Jane’s supple body. He pushed her harder, as if daring the connection between their bodies to finally break, but her cunt actually seemed to hold onto his shaft.
And at the apex of her swing, he pulled her back with one riding hand, her return to him driving his steely erection firmly into her softly yielding pussy. Her juicy folds stretched to take his large girth. Tarzan felt a little as though he were pulling on a glove. Forcing his eyes open, he was treated to the most decadent sight imaginable.
Jane’s naked form coiled around his. Her thighs nestled around his hips, squeezing as she swayed into him so that she was drawn closer and closer to her impalement. Looking down, Tarzan saw her pink lips molding themselves to his prick. Her trim belly heaved with the exertion of being forced upon his manhood. Her breasts were gleaming globes of loose flesh, jiggling with the shudders that went through her body when she accepted his cock.
Tarzan ducked his head down to them and sucked on one of the firm cherry nipples. His tongue circled around the coppery areola and Jane trembled, breasts bouncing with the spasm going through her, as if trying to evade the torturous pleasure of Tarzan’s lips.
Tarzan could tell her climax wasn’t far. He felt her sex beginning to clench, the sense of heat that would be born out of her in the boiling rush of her juices. As stunned as he was by her luscious appearance, Tarzan readied himself for the final note to be played.
Jane cried out, body thrashing around her impalement. Tarzan held firmly onto her hips; he had no desire to let her go. Not when it would rob him of his pleasure or shorten that of Jane. He had to admit, no matter how good it felt for his wife, he selfishly loved the way her liquid sex clamped rhythmically around his manhood. It was like being milked by a velvet fist while his masculinity was warmed to a boil.
“More! Mmm! Ohhh! More, my husband, I want moooore!”
Tarzan gave her all he thought she could handle, and that was more and more all the time. The sound of their mating filled the forest. Tarzan could sense—not hear, not over the noise he was making and Jane was making for him—but sense tiny animals fleeing in fright.
He laughed. This was one more way the fauna ceded respect to their king. It was right that nothing should be there to distract him or even pull his eye for a moment from the breathtaking sight that Jane in rapture made.
He felt more strength gathering in his weary body. His prick had never rutted faster, been harder, done more for a woman’s sex. He gave Jane everything he had, not caring if she was in two halves by the time he was done—she wouldn’t have to take it for long. Her pussy convulsed from the friction and still he pistoned harder into her.
Jane’s thighs jittered blurrily around Tarzan’s hips. She looked down with heavily-lidded eyes at what he was doing to her. Everything she saw was glazed with lust. Quickly, she gave up on what she could see to concentrate on what she was feeling. Jane arched her back, trying to thrust out her loins into their fucking contact, get even more of his manhood inside her.
She didn’t know if she managed to impale herself further or not. Her orgasm was too big for her to hold onto thoughts of such minor details. “I… I… oh sweet lord, TARZAN!”
The physical strain made her work even harder. She felt her breasts thrust up into the air by the way she was pulling herself up on her tree branch. As more and more blood charged through her electrified body, she became agonizingly aware of every drop of sweat covering her body, every nerve flaring with sensation.
It was torment of the sweetest kind. Her rock-hard nipples raked against the air’s cool breeze with every throbbing heartbeat. Her cunt blazed from the friction of Tarzan’s entry against her inner walls. Even her dripping arousal didn’t feel like enough to protect her delicate folds. All she felt was how he stretched her, used her, demanded her passion like the heat radiating outwards after he’d set fire to her body.
She wanted to reach out and grab hold of Tarzan’s broad neck, but didn’t dare. Yet couldn’t she? Couldn’t she make the move fast enough? She knew Tarzan wouldn’t let her fall…
Letting her head drift back, feeling her hair brush across her bent back, gave Jane a sense of freedom despite the rigorous demands of the rhythm that she obeyed. Her sex was pumping hard against Tarzan’s groin. Every move slid his cock into and out of her seething womanhood.
Jane decided that as Tarzan’s mate, she could not help but have his boldness. She let go of her hold on the tree branch and fell back, steadying herself by her thighs’ grip on Tarzan’s waist. His prick twitched inside her as she fell perpendicular to Tarzan’s body, remaining in place by her legs wrapped around him and his arms supporting her.
Then it was as if Tarzan’s cock became a bestial thing inside her. He shifted his stance, standing over her, pinning her shoulders to the ground while her splayed, upright legs were thrown up to the sky. And he pummeled down between them as if he were staking Jane to the earth.
She felt Tarzan as never before, passionately alive and masculine, virile, strong—all the things he had been before, now presented to her at a berserk zenith. His cock seemed to grow in plunging in and out of her. Its already huge size seemed now to be strangled by her convulsing womanhood.
Jane twisted her hips from side to side to encourage him. His hands firmly gripped her ass, both keeping it in place and lovingly savoring its tender qualities. As he pumped her against the ground so hard that the turf was flung upwards in a cloud of dust, Jane felt his member give a last crazed jerk inside her.
He filled her with his hot, gushing seed. A physical manifestation of his ecstasy that exploded deep into Jane’s belly. She sobbed gleefully, tears rolling down her cheeks while her own rapture went on and on. Their bodies crashed together in a shared orgasm. It was the most wonderful thing Jane could remember in her entire life.
Jane grew limp and Tarzan lost his own stolid hardness. He eased her down all the way to the ground, his limp manhood slipping from her. She felt the grass seem to grow along her back, to her buttocks, then under her legs as Tarzan laid out her whole sprawled body against the earth. Then he collapsed down to lie prone with her. One of his hands reached across her and cupped her flank, stroking the smooth skin between her hip and her ribcage.
“You’re spectacular,” he said. “Every bit the same species as me.”
“All girls are the same species as you,” Jane teased.
“No,” Tarzan shook his head, with such firm certitude that it seemed able to challenge Jane’s scientific precepts. “You’re a match for me. A partner. I don’t couple with you. We couple together.”
Jane snuggled closer to him, feeling her body’s naked chill replaced with the warmth his skin gave out. Her sweat was cooling, evaporating, making her feel the longer-lasting wetness of her saturated cunt. It inspired her to wrap her hand around his limp prick, with a casual naturalism, and remind herself of how wonderful it had felt inside her.
“I could lie here all night,” she breathed in his ear.
“I could do other things all night,” Tarzan replied, before using his mouth for something more enjoyable than talking.
His tongue pressed into her ear, rubbing along the lobe, then pressing into the canal. She felt the moisture, the warmth of his breath, and her body responded with arousal like she was a toy that’d been wound up.
It didn’t matter that she’d just been loved. No matter that she’d climaxed multiple times. Her body seemed to be a limitless reservoir of sexual desire when it was Tarzan who accessed it. She felt, with boundless confidence, that she could fuck him all night—and still want more, so long as it was her husband that was the supplier.
Jane had truly bloomed into a woman, the fullest expression of femininity, meeting every challenge that Tarzan’s ultimate masculinity posed. She wouldn’t want second best anyway. Tarzan was the ne plus ultra of manhood. She had to satisfy him, and take the satisfaction that he had to offer. Anything else would be a failure to live up to her own high standards. Jane could not be queen if she didn’t have a king.
Although perhaps a truly imperial royalty wouldn’t have such a craven feeling of need to her. She blamed Tarzan for her insatiable appetite. Most women weren’t as lucky as she had been. They fumbled around with lovers who were as inexperienced as they—perhaps capable of the same lusts as Tarzan, but without the physical supremacy to properly express the passion within.
Clumsy and insecure, those lacking lovers could give women a complex about lovemaking; it was no wonder that many of Jane’s friends regarded the perfectly natural process as degrading or immoral. An opinion she doubted they would retain if they received the slightest amount of the attention Jane had just lived through.
Yes, she was truly fortunate. Tarzan was something of a miracle. Earthly and wise from his keen awareness of the animal kingdom, yet as naïve as her in ways that mattered. He’d shown her what was true of all animals and been willing to experiment with her to find the provinces of humanity alone. She was learning what her body was capable as much as Tarzan was. Experiencing things most women never did or would even want to, mistaking unorthodoxy for perversion.
He’d been in her mouth. Jane had thought that was ridiculous. There was no way she ever would’ve done it with another man. Yet she’d loved the feel of his thick prick replacing his tongue in a kiss, poking through her lips, seeking out the back of her throat, then fucking the hell out of her face until he’d fed her gullet a hot dessert.
Jane shivered to think about it. It’d turned out to be almost as much fun as taking him the natural—or at least ordinary—way. Not that she thought anything would ever take the place of feeling his turgid erection where it was meant to be, laying claim to its proper realm. Slowly separating her vise-like labia, then entering her seething sex with a demand for her furthest reaches. That was the finest thing any female could feel. To know she held his most treasured anatomy inside her was simply the zenith of experiences.
