Tarzan update (Patreon)

To Tarzan’s mind, it gave credence to Jane’s talk of a Creator—for who else could so expertly have crafted the two of them for each other, perfectly balanced in giving pleasure and receiving it? Much about civilization struck him as foolhardy or vainglorious, but he couldn’t take issue with the institution of marriage. It was clear that what he had with Jane was exactly what was supposed to be between a man and a woman.

Now he had his husbandly duty to satisfy her curiosity, and to do that he’d need to regain his hardness. It wouldn’t be easy. Jane had damn near worn out his manhood. But the touch of her mouth on his cock made it feel very possible for him to satisfy her once again. Tarzan lay back on the soft grass and watched the clouds surf across the moon, their white curves turning and twisting and interlacing with each other.

All the while, her wet tongue avidly licked his manhood, her warm lips adroitly mouthed it. Jane felt somehow as if a part of this magical landscape, a tiny miracle on par with the exquisitely sculpted clouds or the untouchable ivory of the moon. She was so entirely focused on his limp cock that it seemed preternatural, but he knew that was only Jane’s indomitable spirit, taking it as a challenge to make him engorged once more.

After all, she still craved her mate. She did not consider her wifely duty discharged or her native appetite fulfilled. She yet wanted to feel the friction of him inside her, stroking hard and fast.

Her tongue, marvel that it was, lifted up his limp member and ushered it into her mouth. She sucked hard on his flaccid length. Tasting his salty issue and her own tangy juices made Jane’s mouth water. She devoured him as though he were a delicacy—giving no indication she’d already had several courses of this dish.

“Wife, you give a man little choice but to go along with you,” he yelped at the surprising force of her suction. “Are you sure this is one of the ways a woman services a man? I feel like this is a labor all my own!”

“Phgh!” was all Jane answered. She wasn’t about to let his manhood out of her mouth. It was too tasty.

She mouthed his cock in its fullness, then was frightened away by its immense throbbing of Tarzan’s nearness to orgasm. She didn’t want to work him to another finish, not yet. Instead, she let his organ lapse out of her mouth and moved down to his balls. The hairy sac dangled with a seeming languor, as if under no obligation to discharge its cargo. With what seemed like ease in Jane’s semi-frenzied state of lust, she took all of the scrotum in her mouth, and used her tongue to bat about his testes between her cheeks.

Tarzan moaned again, the muscles stirring throughout his athletic body. He didn’t dare move. Jane held him captive to his pleasure. Tiny wires of sensation pulled at his groin, delightfully drawing out the tiredness and fatigue, replacing it with pure life and vigor. He was hard once more, and only getting harder as Jane’s tongue lavished wet, loving care all over his sack.

She, too, felt him stiffen in her mouth, his balls burgeoning and tightening and seeming to hum with ready activity. As his tool lengthened, ready to be used, longing to be used, she drew her lips back until his balls slurped out from between them. Just as slowly, she approached his bellend, letting her lips slither over it until the glans had disappeared into them, then the bulge of his cockhead, then more and more of his shaft gave ground to her ruby lips. Sucking hard, she pulled him into a hardness the equal to that which he’d had at the beginning of the night.

“You’re a miracle worker, Jane,” Tarzan groaned. “No one else could have this power over me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jane confessed, even now veiled in Christian humility. “But I’ll certainly be the only one to benefit from it!”

“Yes,” Tarzan readily agreed. “You and only you, always and forever.”

“Then let’s get started on forever, husband mine.”

She dashed off, finding a tree with low-hanging branches, then jumping up to one and wrapping her hands around it. It supported her so that her toes barely touched the ground though her arms were stretched to their full length. Tarzan chuckled at the sight of her, though he found perfectly tantalizing the sight of her own robust physique occupied in maintaining her suspended hold on the tree limb. He couldn’t get any harder, but it still did nothing to deter his stiffness. He was ready again to bury himself into her womanhood and see how long he could go before emerging.

“And what would you have me do?”

Jane swung her lithe weight forward and agilely wrapped her legs around Tarzan’s waist. He got the idea immediately, first reaching down to situate his manhood at the lips of her slit, then reaching under her to take hold of her ass. Jane sighed lovingly, relaxing as she always did in Tarzan’s arms. Her legs loosened their hold, but she didn’t relinquish it entirely. She didn’t want her husband going anywhere.

Tarzan edged forward, prodding the very tip of his member into her womanhood. Jane was already flowing with lust for him, ribbons of it gleaming on her inner thighs. Tarzan worked himself closer still, easing his cockhead into her pink lips.

“Go on and let me have it,” Jane plead. “I want to feel you inside me, not just rubbing at the outside of my poor little pussy.”

“I would never say your pussy is poor, darling. Little, most definitely. At least, it seems so to me. But poor? Never.”

“It may have been a mistake teaching you English,” Jane hissed at him. “You take far too many liberties with it.”

“And you’d rather I take them with you?”

“If you don’t,” Jane told him, “I’ll take liberties with you.”

Indeed, her entire body was aching for that. Jane felt halfway like a nymphomaniac, though she was comforted by the knowledge that Tarzan seemed equally ravenous for her as she was for him. That made it Fate to her. Like an Adam and Eve within a new Garden of Eden, they’d discovered for themselves how wonderful marriage could be. But unlike their ill-fated progenitors, the only temptation was for each other. No matter how much she had of Tarzan, she wanted more. And even if she didn’t, she would give Tarzan all he could ever ask for.

Tarzan took a step closer to her, his cock pushing a little further inside her, into her half-resisting sex, the sheer tightness of her cunt making her sway back a few inches instead of fully accepting him inside her.

Jane moaned in mingled dismay and enjoyment. The entire knob of his prick was being sucked deliciously into her, but she knew she could have more if only he’d hold her a little tighter, or if she’d clench her legs a bit harder about him. But she couldn’t bear to.

This slow exploration of each other reminded her too fondly of how they’d first overcome her maidenhead, a memory that was already indelible within her life. She’d never be able to look back at that mix of romance and savagery with anything but the furthest reaches of fondness. She allowed this new-old feeling to have its way with her—a tingle, then a bolt of lightning, freeing her from the limits of normal sensation and sending her off sailing on gusts of wind no storm could ever match.

Hanging from the tree added to the effect. The exertion it took to hold herself up added to her awareness of her body, made her more cognizant of how he was treating her sex. As he fed more of his shaft into her seething hot womanhood, she started swaying to and fro on the branch. Swinging her hips forward to suck in more of his cock, fucking herself more than Tarzan judged her ready. Jane gasped as she greedily indulged herself, so much of his long, steely manhood sheathed inside her clinging flesh.

Everything about this manic notion added to her arousal. She’d thought of it, shared her fantasy with Tarzan, shown him what she wanted and gotten it willingly from him. Now the reality lived up to her fantasy. She couldn’t say why. Perhaps with Tarzan, nothing could disappoint her.

The wind rushed by her body, soothing and fondling her sweating body. She let it cool the heated dampness beading on her face and running over her physique. “Be good, Tarzan darling, be good and make love to me! I love the feel of what you do between my legs. I… I can feel every little nuance of your manhood inside me, every tremble, every quake! Oh, it’s all so perfect for me…”

Tarzan grunted, apparently sharing her sentiment, and with a rough grip on her plush buttocks, he drew her away from his body, making her swing backwards. Then he relaxed his hold and let her fall forward again, gravity firmly working her onto his shaft until all of him was buried in her boiling hot sex.

Jane cried out—a long, wracking quiver passing through her. Tarzan was lighting fires inside her she hadn’t thought could burn; stoking a furnace she’d never thought could grow so hot. Everything he did was simply exquisite. His hands squeezed fiercely her ass. The way he took her perky flesh and moved her back and forth made her halfway feel like one of the many animals she’d seen challenge his reign and be thrown about by his iron-hard thews. He took infinitely more care with her, true, but there was something of that ferocity in how he worked toward her pleasure, all the same.

He was King of the Jungle and he wished to make her submit, but not to him, to his authority—no, to the pleasure he wanted her to feel, to this passion that had overcome him. More than anything, she sensed, he wanted to share with her in sensual terms the love he felt and how it made him feel emotionally. She knew that all this savage passion was only the translation of what was in his heart.

“Wonderffuuull!” she shouted. “I can’t stand how wonderful it is!”

“This?” Tarzan asked her, swinging her inward again to take him until there was no more to take.

“Everything! Every little thing is—superb! Your sex and mine, the way I feel, the way I can see you feel… all of it!”

Tarzan grunted out a pleased laugh. “I may be superb, but I’m no little thing!”