Date: Mon, 13 Nov 2000 10:19:44 PST From: Brad Lee Subject: Jungle Boy I had been in central Africa for two months as part of an anthropological expedition. In one area of the Congo I kept encountering the same legend. A white man who had amazing control over animals. He was supposed to be taller than the black natives, and as strong as three of them. The natives were in awe of this white man and considered him a demigod. I assumed that the legend derived from the late nineteenth century when white explorers first entered the region. One day I had gone off on foot alone to search out a particularly isolated tribe. Suddenly a leopard appeared on the trail before me. I froze, not knowing what to do. I knew that leopards were expert tree climbers, and I was certain that I couldn't outrun it. Then I heard a deep voice shout in the language of the Ktang people, "No! Lie down!" To my amazement, the leopard slowly got down on its haunches. Then I felt a jarring in my side and to my shock I felt myself flying through the air! A strong arm had me clenched in its grip, and I saw that I was being carried by a muscular young man. Very muscular and very young. I remember the hardness and thickness of his arms as he picked me up; no heavier was I to him than a small child, and he carried me easily across one broad shoulder. He held a vine with his hand, and as he swung through the forest he grabbed one vine after another to carry me deeper into the forest. The smell of him is erotic...hot, musky sweat that covers me as we travel through the jungle. Skin to hot skin, rubbing against each other...I've never had a man carry me before, but I feel so safe in his arms, and it seems like no effort for him at all...damn, he is strong! Eventually we reached what seemed to be a kind of elaborate tree house. A floor had been made of logs in the crotch of a huge tree, with leaves and other plant matter tucked between them making a soft cushiony floor. The man put me down on my feet, and I turned to face my savior. He was, without doubt, the finest specimen of a man that I have ever seen in my 28 years of life. No Greek sculptor ever carved an image as beautiful and strong as the man who stood before me. His face was that of a youth -- no more than twenty-one, and his body and legs looked as though they were made of polished hardwood: dark, thick and hard. There was no fat on the body. His skin was stretched tight over his muscles and every fiber in his arms rippled and bulged with the slightest movement. He had dark hair that flowed down around his shoulders, and smoldering dark eyes. His body was no doubt honed by life in the jungle but his beauty was breathtaking, exotically handsome with skin that glowed with vibrant, radiant life. His shoulders spread out widely to the powerful arms that had carried me to this place. His chest was deep and broad to match the strength of his arms, but tapering down to an astonishingly small waistline. His stomach was a tight double ridge of muscles that stopped just above a tiny wisp of hair peeking out of the top of his loincloth, and the leather barely covered a large bulge at his crotch. Powerfully thick thighs taper to meaty calves and his feet are bare. His rippling muscles glisten golden brown in the dappled sunlight of the jungle. He is the most perfect man I have ever seen. I swallow hard, and there, in the shadow between his legs was the mark of his sex -- larger and thicker than any other that I had ever seen. As he caught the direction of my gaze, the appendage swelled and lengthened, pulsing with power as it did so, and I felt my own response as a familiar constriction made its presence known in my own tattered trousers. I could barely move, but not believing my own eyes at the sheer beauty of his face and majesty of his body, I reached out slowly with my hand to touch him. Before I could, with the astonishing speed of some jungle cat, he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me effortlessly to my feet. Drawing my body tightly up against his muscular chest, he kissed me squarely and hungrily on the mouth. Forcing his tongue past my lips, I felt myself lifted off the ground, and, still locked in his hot embrace, carried toward the jungle boy's thatched-roofed sleeping quarters. Placing me gently on my back across his wide mossy sleeping mat, the young demigod sat beside me and placed his hand possessively upon my now throbbing member. I felt his other hand pulling the clothing away from my body -- fingers closed around the hot, pulsing shaft, his hand started moving along its hard, fleshy length, slowly at first, but increasing in intensity and speed. I was helpless in his grasp, a soft, high moan escaped my lips and I closed my eyes out of pure pleasure. Was this some incredible dream? Suddenly the roughness of his grip was replaced with a wet, all-engulfing warmth, and I glanced downward to see the beautiful face of this exquisite youth now with his full, sensual lips devouring my manhood, driving me so quickly and surely into an ecstasy beyond any I'd ever known. Even as I felt the spasms building within me, the jungle boy slid one hand beneath me, and with a huge bulge of his biceps, lifted my pelvis off the soft mat and to his hungry lips as easily as one would lift a bowl to drink from, and, just as the power of my ejaculations overtook me, forced one finger deep into my rear, driving me into a bucking, babbling, hopelessly exuberant delirium. I fell back exhausted. What manner of creature was this that had so thoroughly and meticulously drained every drop of my seed form me, swallowing every bit of it like nectar? As I opened my eyes, I saw my new friend with his head thrown back, breathing deeply, fully naked before me, so incredible a vision! I reached my hand towards his manhood, which, I could now see was perhaps twice mine in length, and so thick that I could not reach around it with my fingers. This time, it was I who moved to him and, with my finger, I traced the outline of his immensely broad chest. I toyed with his nipples until they started swelling and I became aware of the other swelling that was happening between his legs. He cradled my head in his hands and pushed my face down toward his swelling penis. I smelled his musky scent grow stronger and as my lips closed over the head of his cock he strained against me and I swallowed, trying to take in the immeasurable length of an erection that would never be believed in the Western world. I caressed and massaged his manhood with my tongue as it moved up and down my throat, and in and out of my mouth. Through my tongue I felt a quiver of delight move through his body and then through his soul. Suddenly, he pulled himself out of my mouth, and in a burst of strength he pinned me to the sleeping mat and flipped me over onto my front as easily as a large cat flips over a small mouse. So strong was he that he ripped off the rest of my rags with one hand. I felt the awful strength of his arms and chest as he picked me up by the pelvis. I could feel the heat and hardness of his shaft between my buttocks as it began to probe my receptive opening. In a burst of pain that was as wonderful as it was intense, he entered me. Again and again he lifted and lowered me, pressing me to him and pushing me away, all the time maintaining a powerful grip on my hips. Again, I was helpless to resist. What could I do? When a man finds himself in the grip of arms so titanically strong, is there any other recourse beyond total submission? I think not! The pain and pleasure of his passion flooded my body and my soul, quickly driving me to yet another incredibly intense orgasm. After what seemed to be a great while, he too reached the climax of his performance. With his hands still on my hips, he lifted me up, disengaging his engorged penis from me with a loud "pop". Then, I was brought suddenly out of the delirious sated reverie as this young god stood, and beating his fists against his muscular chest, bellowed out a wild animal cry, half scream, half song, into the jungle twilight. In some dark instinctual way, I knew he had claimed his ownership of me, body and soul. As we lay there on that rough platform beneath the canopy of trees watching the evening change slowly to night, just beyond the leaves, far beyond our heads, the stars came out. I ran my hand up and down his stomach, feeling the muscles like hard warm stones beneath my hands, feeling safe and secure for the first time since the outset of my journey. Jungle Boy - Part 2 The following morning, I awoke with a start, alone. Had it all been a dream? As tried to stand, the pain in my rear told me, no, it was no dream. Finding some shorts in my backpack, I struggled down some 30 feet to the jungle floor below to relieve myself, but to my horror, I found myself unable to climb back to the safety of my young jungle god's nest. In the distance I heard the same wild savage cry that so startled me last evening, and then suddenly, he was there, bounding in with the easy arboreal grace of the true jungle creature that he was. He was glistening, his hair apparently still wet from a swim in the crystal-clear headwaters of the River. He ran his hand seductively over his magnificently muscled chest as he eyed me. I was at once wary and melting with desire to be close to him again. All of a sudden he started ripping my clothes off! "What the hell are you doing?" "Ants!" Little red ants were crawling all over me, biting me. "Oh dear! Get them off of me! Quick!" In a flash I'm standing, naked, in front of this near naked god. "We must take care before bites swell. We will climb." The jungle boy begins to climb a rope of vines reaching to the ground at the base of the large tree. His biceps bulge and the muscles in his broad back ripple. The flap of his leather loincloth moves to reveal his bare ass cheeks, smooth and round, with a thin strip of leather separating them. My cock stirs. Why am I getting turned on by this guy? I'd never had sex with a man before last night, and I didn't know I would react this way. Quickly, I think about the archeological expedition so that my cock doesn't get hard and embarrass me. As he reaches the platform of the tree house high in the branches, he turns to see I'm having trouble. I could no more climb that vine than I could fly to the treetops. I grab the vine tightly and he pulls me up. Watching his muscles work my eyes wander to his broad shoulders, massive chest, chiseled pecs and dark brown nipples. His biceps are enormous! As he pulls me onto the platform, my face brushes against the bulge of his crotch. I am ashamed for thinking such thoughts of the man who has saved me, and I quickly pull away from him, as he smiles. In the Ktang language, he says, "Me Bufzan. You?" "Jim," I said. "How do you come to live here?" I asked. The Ktang legend was true! But how had this muscular youth come to be here deep in the jungle? "I live here since I nine rainy seasons old. My parents die, and an old Ktang man raise me." "And now you live alone?" I asked. "Yes. The Ktang..." he paused, "I--I not like the other Ktang." "So strong." I offered, feeling again turned on by the hunk standing in front of me. "See. Push!" he said, and held one arm up, palm facing me. I pushed with my hand, and he didn't budge. I leaned my weight against him, then pushed with both hands. Still he stood still, unmoved. Finally I braced my feet against the platform and pushed with all my might on his hand. Nothing. Then his mouth twisted into a small smile. "Bufzan stronger than any Ktang, and stronger than you." "I see. Do this, to show me how strong," and I flexed my own arm. Bufzan copied me, flexing his right arm. The biceps knotted up into a ball of hard muscle, as if he were getting ready for a bodybuilding competition. I reached out and touched it. Then I started rubbing the palm of my hand all around his biceps, around to the triceps. "Very strong," I said, and moved my other hand onto his right pec. He tensed almost involuntarily, and I felt the chest muscle ripple beneath my hand. "Me glad to see another man. Bufzan lonely." I looked into his eyes. My cock had hardened in my pants from the excitement of feeling this hard body. Turning away he says, "I have oil to take sting out bites". While I sit there, looking up, as he stands, getting some oil out of a cabinet, I study his powerful legs, so strong and meaty, so shapely, with little veins bulging in his thick thighs and baseball-size calves. His feet look like they were sculpted by Michaelangelo. With his back turned to me, I can freely look at his bubble butt and imagine what it would look like without the leather. I move closer to once again look under the rear flap of the loincloth at those gorgeous cheeks. Looking in the cabinet, he spreads his legs wide and thrusts his butt back...to give me a better look? He reaches back to scratch, lifts the flap, and adjusts the leather strap, running his finger slowly all along his crack. He moans. Does he know I'm looking? Is he doing that for my benefit? No, it must be my imagination. "This take sting out." Bufzan kneels down beside me and begins rubbing the oil on my body. It feels wonderful...so soothing, and his strong, hot hands are all over me. Soon I am covered, head to toe, in oil. He rubs my back, then my legs and butt. When his fingers slip between my crack, I tense up. "Relax, Jim. Bufzan not hurt you." I trust him, so I relax my ass. I've never had a rubdown before, so maybe this is the way it's supposed to be done. His fingers explore between my legs, rimming my asshole slowly. The sensuous rubbing is making me HOT! I have to lift to adjust my dick, which is growing harder. His fingers gently stroke my balls, and a shiver of excitement ripples up my spine. "Roll over and I'll put some of this on your chest, Jim." Aware that my cock is now rock hard, I don't want him to see me so turned on. "Not right now, man. Let me rest." Bufzan smiles, stands, and begins pouring the oil on himself. He covers his rippling arms until they glisten, then pumping his biceps until they pop, large as melons. He rubs his chest, strokes down his ripped abs, lowering the loincloth a bit to put some oil there, then rubbing oil slowly back up to his armpits, and across his chiseled pecs. He flexes, making his pecs dance! Then, with both hands, he begins to stroke and pinch his nipples, rubbing and pulling on them until they are standing straight out, hot and erect. He covers his sinewy legs with oil, flexing to show every muscle in detail. He is so well developed that it looks like the muscles will pop right through his bronze skin! I'm so turned on by his sensuality that I think I may cum any second! "Turn over, Jim." "I don't want to." "Then Bufzan make you!" He grabs my legs with his powerful arms and flips me over so fast I don't realize what happened. I am exposed, my stiff prick is throbbing against my belly. He smiles. "So, Jim likes Bufzan!" Still staring straight at me, he motions me to him. I felt like one of the animals of the wild he could so mysteriously bend to his will, a captive of those smoldering dark eyes. "Jim will stay with Bufzan. Bufzan will drink Jim's cream. Jim cream over and over for Bufzan." Reaching between my legs, his fingers closed around my hot, pulsing shaft, then his strong young hand moved past to massage my balls, rolling them between his fingers as a soft moan of pleasure escaped my lips. Flicking his head back, he flipped his shining black hair off his handsome face and reached his hand further back between my ass cheeks, gently squeezing one bun and resting his thumb on my quivering sphincter. Placing his other hand flat against my chest, he bent his knees and with one quick, agile, astonishing movement, lifted me off the ground and over his head, inserting his thumb forcefully up my rear in the process. "My God! Oh, my God, man!!" As I stared downward in disbelief at the swelling muscles and smooth tanned expanse of his wide shoulders and magnificent chest, he lowered my fully engorged cock into his mouth like he was tasting some ripened fruit still hanging from its branch. "Oh, Bufzan! Yes, oh oh yes, Bufzan!" Sucking my manhood powerfully into his sweet, hot mouth, Bufzan raised me slowly up and down overhead with his fabulously muscled arms as his powerful digit massaged my prostate deep within me. In just moments, I was ejaculating repeatedly, uncontrollably, my hot cum shooting into his waiting mouth as my body bucked and writhed in his powerful hands as wave after wave of unknown pleasure swept over me. When he had again had drained every drop of cum from my cock, he lowered me smoothly to the floor. My legs buckled beneath me, but he sweep me up into his arms again as I panted for breath, I could not speak. Bufzan looked down at me sweetly as he cradled me against his hard chest, "Jim like to cream for Bufzan, yes?" "Jim want do again?" Bufzan asked. Still, I could not speak. True to his word, Bufzan took me again, and again, that second day. The astonishing power of that perfect body, along with his native creativity freed him to employ a constantly changing variety of novel sexual positions, each one more exciting than the last. He did seem somewhat disappointed that my capacity to cum was no match for this onslaught of jungle virility. And, with his next sojourn into his jungle realm, he aimed to remedy that situation. Returning gracefully to the floor of the tree house with a thud, Bufzan displayed to me a bag of herbs and bark and other strange vegetable matter he had gathered. He quickly went to work first mashing the concoction together, then brewing a foul-smell brew from it. "Jim drink. Good for Jim's little Bwuangs", he said, as he affectionately hefted my testicles in his hand. My infatuation with my young jungle god easily overwhelmed both my scientific skepticism and revulsion at the brew's noxious taste, I would humor him. To my surprise however, I felt the concoction's effects almost immediately. Bufzan causally glanced at me and rubbed his hand over his rippling abs, I was immediately erect. He curled his finger ever so slightly and I was drawn to him, as if by a powerful magnet. I proceeded to caress Bufzan's exquisite body, first with my hands, and then my lips. My mouth teased Bufzan's nipples and slowly moved down Bufzan's body. Bufzan's body tensed and flexed as I slowly worked my way toward the now gigantic shaft of flesh that pulsed between his legs. Bufzan let out a sigh of pleasure as my warm, moist lips closed around the head of his penis, sucking and swallowing as much as I could possibly take. Wave after wave of ecstasy rolled over my being and crashed on the shore of his rock hard passion as I administered kisses of unbridled lust to Bufzan's erection. Then, just as I thought he might to burst, I turned around, and slowly lowered myself onto Bufzan's massive pole. Bufzan's body seemed to tense and flex to make his penis as huge and hard as possible and as I impaled myself, I heard a groan of total and absolute pleasure escape from my lips. Bufzan's own moan echoed the passion of the moment. Bufzan grabbed me by the waist and with his powerful arms, raised and lowered me along the length of his now immense dick. The groans of pleasure from both of us were now unmistakable. Even Bufzan could take it no longer. With a powerful thrust that made me scream, Bufzan filled my love hole with his juices. Again and again he came, pumping me full of cum. I responded uncontrollably, spattering cum over Bufzan's broad, muscular chest in paroxysms of pleasure. As we both thrust our bodies against each other, I heard my own voice crying out with the wild abandon of an untamed jungle creature -- Ahhh YEEEEEEEEEEE Ahhhhh -- until finally the tide of pleasure turned and ebbed away, and I fell onto the bed beside Bufzan. Both exhausted, we fell asleep side by side. I knew I wouldn't be missed at the camp for days since they thought I was at the other village, and I realized that I would have ample chances to do some truly important anthropological studies right here! What was this infatuation and insatiable appetite my young jungle god had for consuming my manly seed? Was this connected to his incredible strength and virility? I knew at last I had found the scientific quest I was born to pursue. But now, far more than a few days have past. I no longer keep track of the days and nights. I only know that they are an endless paradise of life serving the young god who saved me from that leopard. We have learned to communicate, after a fashion. He speaks English quite well now, and I understand the language of his beautiful body. With my rough knowledge of the civilized world, I have helped him build a more comfortable home in the trees. But when the day is done and his appetite for food is satisfied, I am his for the taking. And retaking. Even though he is capable of making me do whatever his fantasy and erotic passions desire, I need no coercion, and seek no escape.