"William? What can I do for you?"
 |
| William Clayton. |
William sneers, "I know what kind of man you are, James Porter. I have known the truth since the moment you appeared on the doorstep to Greystoke Manor with your wild tales of meeting my supposed cousin, the savage."
I gulp, afraid for the first time since I agreed to stay at Greystoke Manor until we embark on our expedition to Africa. William is a powerful man. At 24, he is only a couple of years older than me, but he is more man than I will ever be. I do not mean that I am not a man. I am 5'10"/150-lbs and I am fit and strong, but William is a brutish 5'10"/210-lbs of muscle.
 |
| Me. James Porter. I am no match for William. |
My only hope is to lie and hope I can talk my way out of this. The truth is that I was physically attracted to this man's animal magnetism the moment I met him. However, I thought I suppressed those desires sufficiently. And yet here I am, exposed as a man who likes men and about to suffer a serious thrashing for it. I would prefer that 1922 not be my last year on this earth, so I must lie. Lie and pray.
I stammer, "I do not know what you mean, but -"
William squeezes my manhood in his huge paw. I am shocked. When I try shift my hips, the powerful grip holds firm and tightens. I wince, bending forward in pain. My face falls toward the stocky aristocrat's broad shoulder, resting on it. I moan, softly biting his bare shoulder. I hear him snort as I suckle helplessly on his flesh as I push against his biceps.
My tormentor whispers in my ear, "Do not fight it. I told you. I know what you are. Just enjoy my hand on your privates. Just give yourself to me and I shall give you more pleasure than you have ever had."
I can only whimper in response as my fear changes to surprise. Is he saying what I think he is saying? He chuckles in my ear as my manhood answers for me, growing under his hand. To my surprise, the muscular aristocrat kisses my neck. I moan as he sucks on my flesh. The flick of his tongue elicits a high-pitched squeal from me.
The muscular aristocrat uses my hair to force my head up and back. He grabs me behind the neck then pulls me into a rough kiss on the lips. He molests my mouth, forcing his tongue inside me. I fight it for a moment, but then I relax. William dominates me while fondling my swollen member. I lose myself in his powerful grip, bringing my hands up to caress his broad shoulders.
William finally releases my pouch. He brings his hands to my chest and clutches it. I look down to see my hairy chest squeezed, but it's the front of my pants that catches my attention. They are stretched out by my swollen member, revealing my excitement. The muscular aristocrat releases my chest then steps back.
William smiles, "You are a handsome man, James Porter. I want you. And you want me." I stare into his eyes and I am entranced. I cannot respond, but my feelings are abundantly clear. "Yes, just relax and give yourself to me."
I swallow, but do not say anything. I hear him chuckle. William rubs his hands up and down my torso, feeling my body. My arms hang at my side, paralyzed by shock. I am like a statue as the stocky muscleman fondles my body. I gasp when he brushes my nipples, which only encourages him to do it again. I breathe in deeply, whimpering like a helpless boy.
William grabs my shirt from the bed then wraps it around my neck. He uses it to force me down. I drop to my knees before him. William uses the cloth to draw my face into his trousers, forcing me to smell the musk of his crotch. It's intoxicating. I have never been treated in such a manner. While I was scared at first, the overtly sexual nature of the attack is only exciting me now.
I open my mouth and suckle on his privates through the cotton cloth of his pants. I grip his arse with my hands for leverage, marveling at how round and firm it is. William does not react, he just allows me to worship him. Suddenly, I feel a tug. I am drawn back to my feet then roughly shoved onto the bed. I can only watch as he tears off my pants, freeing my throbbing manhood.
I lie on the bed, completely naked and exposed. I look at William longingly, expecting him to remove his pants. He does not. Instead, he grabs my legs, pulling me towards him. My bare bottom slams into his crotch. The muscular man pushes my legs up and away, forcing my knees to my shoulders. He commands me to grip my legs. I obey, keeping myself folded in half.
William looks down at himself and I realize that he is fishing out his member. I long to see it, but I cannot. The brute moves back towards me and I feel the head of his penis press against my hole. I gasp in anticipation. With a firm push, William forces himself inside me. I throw my head back, moaning. I bite my bottom lip to handle the pain.
Even though I cannot see him, I know he is thick. Almost the thickest that has ever been inside me. I grunt as he splits me in two. I look up at my dominator and he hungrily stares back at me, scanning my naked body. As we lock eyes, I feel helpless against him, but then I realize that we simply understand each other. The muscular aristocrat is in complete control and has been since he barged into my room. I am not afraid. I am excited.
My penis is hard and throbbing as it hovers over my torso, the head resting in the ridge of my chest as I am folded in half. William begins to pump his hips and I groan with pleasure and pain. I leak onto myself as I watch him grimace with concentration as he breeds me. The thrusts have increased in both speed and intensity. I close my eyes to enjoy the sensations.
As he works, William reaches for my shirt around my neck. He wraps it around his hand and tugs. I feel it tighten as he keeps wrapping it until I am choking. I gasp for air, opening my eyes to beg him to let go. He tells me to relax. I try to trust him, but it is not easy. My member is painfully large and throbbing. I long to touch it, but I am holding my legs. I've essentially trapped myself.
My head feels light and it's hard to focus. William's pelvis is slamming into my arse so hard that it feels as though it's turning red. I gasp for breath, my mind racing as he savagely takes me. I cry out, but no words emerge. The muscular aristocrat keeps me calm by talking to me in soothing tones, telling me things like I was born to be bred like this and that I am a good boy.
Suddenly, I see him tense then I feel the warmth of his seed inside me. He moans loudly and the veins on his neck pop. Slowly, he begins to pump again, draining himself. When he's finished, he reaches his hand around then rubs my penis with the back of two fingers. It's gentle, but the caress is all it takes. As he tightens the choke, I begin to convulse.
I erupt, spraying my milk onto my chest as my entire body shivers and shakes. I have never felt anything this intense in my life. I break out in a sweat. My eyes roll back in my head. I clench my fists and cry out. The sensation goes on for a long time before it stops. William backs up and I go limp, my hands dropping to the side off the back of my knees.
As I lose hold on my legs, they whip forward. They hit the floor and the momentum pulls me off the bed. I collapse on the floor, struggling for breath. I pull the shirt from around my neck. As I regain my focus, I see William's leather riding boots in front of me. I lie on the floor before him, naked and weak. When I look up, I see that he has tucked his member back into his trousers.
I am surprised as William extends a hand. I accept and he easily pulls me to my feet. I wobble, but his strong arms support my naked body. I stare into his eyes, desperately attempting to process this entire event. I do not understand any of it.
The muscular aristocrat says, "Congratulations James Porter. You have managed to turn my dread of spending weeks traveling to Africa to find this alleged cousin of mine into excitement. I think you feel the same."
I simply nod as William uses my shirt to clean my seed off my chest. When he tosses it aside, I lean in for a kiss, but the muscular aristocrat demurs, turning his cheek.
William says, "All in good time, James Porter. For now, we must be satisfied with this moment. I trust that we will have more." I simply nod.
With that, William Clayton smiles then exits my room, leaving me naked, alone and confused. I look down and realize I am also fully erect. I gather my soiled shirt, kneel on the floor then work my engorged manhood. I run through my tryst with William in my mind. It is the first time I have pleasures myself to thoughts of anyone other than Tarzan, my beautiful jungle man.
I quickly explode again, this time unleashing more of my seed onto my shirt. I collapse on the floor, lying there, exhausted and drained. Finally, I summon my energy and rise. I place the soaked fabric into the laundry then fall onto the bed. As I rub my neck, sleep consumes me.
Chapter 2
1922 has been a challenging year for me and now I am headed on my second expedition to the heart of Africa. It has been months since I arrived home from my first trip and yet it still feels like yesterday. The experience changed my life in every way. My employer was killed during a fit of madness. Mr. Moorhead's untimely passing led to the substantial inheritance that provides me access into the upper crust of society. And my training at his side allows me to confidently move amongst the likes of kings and queens. However, it is not my world. I know it and so do they.
Most importantly to my current situation, it was in Africa that I had my brief encounter with the jungle man named Tarzan. As a white man in the middle of Africa, he was a novelty. However, in my time with the handsome and mighty savage, I learned he is much more. When I returned, I confirmed my suspicions. Tarzan is a man I know to be John Clayton, the supposedly dead son of Richard Clayton, heir to the Greystoke title. When John was a child, he and his parents disappeared in Africa, presumed killed in a shipwreck.
My theory and the few photographs I managed to appropriate from Tarzan's makeshift jungle home took me to Greystoke Manor. If I am right, Tarzan is the true heir to the title of Lord Greystoke. At first, there was resistance, but here we are. After weeks of planning, I am part of an expedition to Africa with Tarzan's uncle Henry (the current Lord Greystoke), cousin William and maternal grandfather, Sir Andrew Whitehead.
The elderly Sir Andrew is accompanied by his grandson, Phillip. The strapping man is a veritable giant. Both tall and muscular, easily 6'4" or perhaps even 6'5". I cannot even guess at his weight. He looks more than capable of defending his grandfather, should the need arise. And I see from which side of his family Tarzan inherited his height.
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| Phillip. The young giant. |
We have spent the past week at his family's estate, Greystoke Manor, sneaking briefs moments together. It is always the same, with William taking control of me. He is not the first man I have been with, but I have experienced new heights of ecstasy with him. The muscular aristocrat is a master of the erotic unlike any I have ever met. I have come to feel comfortable under his hand.
In fact, I have become his willing student. He is a forceful and domineering teacher, but I am adapting to him as he takes me to new heights. William has earned my trust. Even as he has tested my limits, he is sensitive to my needs. Our sexual encounters are thrilling, but I am also enjoying our simpler moments together. Just being with him is a pleasure. He has a fiery spirit and intelligence that challenges me, even in the most mundane of occasions.
William says, "You are wearing entirely too many clothes. When you're in our cabin, I want you nude at all times, James Porter."
I turn to look him in the eyes, "What if I - AHH!" The muscleman squeezes me against him in a bearhug. It's a crushing hold and I am quickly moaning in pain. I am forced to beg him to ease up. When he lets go of me, I silently begin to remove my clothing. I carefully place my garb over my trunk, keeping it at the ready in case I need to leave the cabin.
William moves in behind me, grasping my smooth arse in his steel grip as he reaches around and rubs my flat stomach. The powerful muscleman spins me to face him. He looks me up and down then declares, "Much better. You are a beautiful man, James Porter. If it was up to me, you would never wear clothes again."
I blush, "Thank you."
William proceeds to force me against the wall of the ship and ravish me. When he has tasted enough of me, he orders me to the middle of the small room then disappears into his cabin. I wait patiently until he returns with a bag. As usual, I am naked and he is clothed. It has become our norm, so I barely question it. William says it makes teaching easier and I realize it's true.
I watch as he removes several strips of fabric. He informs me, "I have been saving this for this very moment. Hold out your arms."
I comply, putting my faith in my sexual mentor. William wraps one strip around my right wrist. He secures it then forces my arm out. I just watch as he ties the other end to a metal beam on one side. He repeats this with my left arm to a beam across the cabin. My arms are stretched to their maximum wingspan as I stand naked in the center of my tiny cabin.
William caresses my body and I shiver with anticipation. He fondles every inch of me and I am clearly excited. I breathe slowly, trying to maintain my composure. William binds my ankles, stretching my feet out wide before securing the ends to the same beams. I am now spreadeagle and even more at his mercy. I wonder if he knew the construction of this ship would make tying me up so easy. Of course he did, the devil. My penis bobs with excitement.
When William moves behind me, the muscular aristocrat slips a fabric gag around my head then between my lips. He says, "Sound echoes on these metal ships and you can be rather loud." I give a short laugh, admitting that is true. I moan as his lips hit my neck. He whispers, "Do you trust me, James Porter?" I nod.
The next thing I know, there is a fabric hood over my head. I tense up and breathe in sharply, but William orders me to relax. I try, but I am now blind and bound. It is disconcerting to be so helpless, even with a man I trust completely. I lose track of time as I am thoroughly molested by his hands and mouth. Unable to anticipate his attacks, I frequently flinch, which only seems to encourage him.
I feel water splash onto my manhood then a lather of some kind. William orders me not to flinch. I hold my position, bracing for anything. I feel the blade swipe down my pelvis and it takes all my strength to stand still. I realize that he is shaving my privates. I whimper into the hood, but William speaks in a soothing tone, telling me that I am doing well. Eventually, I feel a cloth on my smooth crotch, cleaning off the lather.
"This will be our little secret. Something only we share, James Porter."
I relax, happy that it is over and I seem to be fine. I wonder what it looks like? William slaps my cock and I thrash with a start. He does it repeatedly, battering my hard member back and forth. I bite on the gag, desperate not to cry out. The stinging whacks from his hands is replaced by the warm, tender embrace of his lips. I groan as he engulfs my cock. It feels so good.
William expertly satisfies me and I am quickly brought to the edge. I moan a warning as is his rule. He stops then resumes the slapping. It stings more this time as my penis is extremely sensitive. As I whimper, the hands are once again replaced by his lips. I am brought close to release, but again he stops. He repeats the process.
My arms are numb as I am driven mad by his sexual torture. He finally stops, but leaves me unsatisfied. My member cries out as it is denied release. I feel fabric wrap around my sensitive organ and my testicles. William binds them from just behind the head to the base of the shaft. My balls are bound separately then tied to my engorged manhood.
I can only imagine how I look, my genitals shaved bare and trussed up like a Christmas goose. William moves behind me. I feel his fat penis part my bottom. He holds my hips tightly then plunges inside me. I groan, but I am getting used to the thickness of his member. My mentor proceeds to ride me hard. My bound manhood bounces with every violent thrust as I am ravaged.
William breeds me and I can only stand in place. He is always in control, but I have never felt this helpless. Suddenly, I feel him explode inside me. I savor the warmth of his seed as it fills me. The muscular aristocrat finishes inside me and I feel him bury his face against my back. He kisses me gently, complimenting me. I feel proud to have pleased him.
My arms are untied first. I shake them out as my legs are freed. When William pulls off the hood, I immediately look down at my manhood. My dark curly hair around my crotch is gone. I have not been this smooth for ten years, since I was 12. My member is dark red and purple. It is hard and throbbing for freedom. The gag comes off, but I do not speak. I am unsure if the game is over yet and I know better than to speak during our games.
Suddenly, a knock on my cabin door announces dinner. We hear a knock on William's door repeating the call. I look at my swollen organ, but my mentor orders me to leave it and get dressed for dinner. I gasp. It is difficult, but I soften slightly then manage to get my pants on. I tie a large sweater around my waist, draping the sleeves to hide my prominent bulge. All through dinner, I suffer. When the meal ends, I race back to my cabin.
William follows, pleased to find me on the bed, naked except for the fabric binding my manhood. I rise, begging him to finish the game. He smiles then unties the knot. It takes only a momentary soft touch and a stern command before he draws my seed out of me. It spurts painfully from my manhood. He orders me to finish. I drop to the floor, gripping his leg as I release the pressure. He pats my head as I pump my organ dry.
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| Naked and roped is how I will spend much of this trip. |
William climbs into bed with me. I rest in his arms as he ignites a debate on the meaning and merits of Virginia Woolf's new novel, Jacob's Room. We have a good go about its lack of structure and overall importance. Our battle of wits and tongues is just as tiring as our physical games. When we've said our piece, neither of us budging in our opinions, we quickly fall asleep together.
Chapter 3
I order, "We should set up camp right here."
As the men begin to work, I look around the clearing. It brings back so many horrible memories to return to this exact place, but it will be worth it. We get everything set up before nightfall. The Claytons and Sir Andrew are eager to find Tarzan, but I tell them the jungle is far too dangerous at night.
I add, "However, with our fires blazing, Tarzan might find us first."
William and I are sharing a tent, but tonight is all business. We have not played since we left the ship, but I enjoy his company. We lie together on my cot in silence until I ask him if he's nervous. He says he's not. I question how that is possible.
"I have lived with the ghost of my cousin John all my life, James Porter. No matter what I have achieved, I can never win against the unrealized potential of a dead child. Perhaps this will put that to rest. One way or the other, perhaps I can finally become my own man."
This revelation surprises me and I feel closer to William than ever. I have seen him as so strong and so accomplished, but his vulnerability stirs something inside me. I sit up and he follows, looking confused. I lean in and kiss him lovingly. He responds. Before we go any further, I feel the need to tell him about my relationship with Tarzan.
William just listens as I reveal that Tarzan saved my life twice. He does not react as I explain that we were intimate. I share everything I experienced and learned about Tarzan, only leaving out the truth of Mr. Moorhead's death. That is a secret I will take to my grave. When I am done, he thanks me for being honest with him. We kiss again, but go to bed on our separate cots.
The next morning, I rise early. I step out of my tent. I search the perimeter. I know that even if we're being watched I will not see Tarzan, but I want him to see me. I circle the camp, making my presence known to any prying eyes. Suddenly, two thick arms grab me from behind. I smile and turn, only to see William.
At my reaction, the muscular aristocrat releases me. He says, "Oh, you're disappointed. You thought it was him. I guess I am still outmatched by my erstwhile cousin."
I grab William and pull him close to me. I stare into his eyes, "Please William. You could never disappoint me. I did hope it was Tarzan, but that is no reflection on you. The entire purpose of this journey is to find him and see if he is John Clayton. You must understand -"
"I do, James Porter. I understand perfectly."
We continue to stare as I release William. The rest of camp is starting to rise. Our intimacy is a secret and not one I plan to share. I turn back to the jungle. If Tarzan is out there, he is not making his way here. I thought for sure he would come running to me. Perhaps my feelings for him are deeper than his are for me. I must remember that he thinks differently.
After breakfast, we gather our day packs. I vaguely remember where Tarzan's home is, but I realize that I cannot get there without help. We will need to advance in stages and hope to stumble upon him. Sir Andrew will wait behind with the hunters and pack natives for protection, while Henry, William and I will head into the jungle with guns and two guides.
We hike for two hours, but nothing looks familiar to me. The jungle grows. Things die. Paths close up. All trees look the same. I realize that this is hopeless. I should have recruited Sefu and Tau, our guides from before, but I was afraid that the secret of Mr. Moorhead's death would come out. Now, I fear I have wasted everyone's time.
We stop to rest. I look up, searching the trees. In desperation, I call out, "Tarzan! TARZAN! IT IS JAMES PORTER! TAARRZZAANN!"
The guide and Claytons look at me like I am a fool. And I feel like one. Until I hear it. Tarzan's jungle cry. AHHH AHH AH AH AHHHHHH! It echoes through the trees. I smile, "That's him. He's here. Somewhere." I tell them, "Put your guns down, please. Tarzan is aware of guns and is cautious because of them."
Ten minutes later, we hear rustling. We turn to look, but there is nothing. I hear a gasp as Henry turns back. I turn and my heart skips a beat. We all freeze as we look at 6'3"/230-lbs of bronzed muscle god standing before us. I smile as I take in the majesty of the jungle man again. I am once again in awe, just as I was when we first met.
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| Tarzan swoops in. |
Behind me, I hear William mutter, "My god, he's magnificent."
Somehow my memory actually underplayed his greatness. I smile as I approach the magnificent man. He smiles back at me, relaxing as we stare deep into each other's eyes. When we get close, the massive muscleman sweeps me into his arms, hugging me hard. I hug him back, resting my head on his hard chest. I hear his heartbeat and I feel whole again.
When we break, he asks, "James. Why are you here?"
"Hello again, Tarzan. I want you to meet your tribe."
Chapter 4
The remainder of the day is a whirlwind. It is chaotic and joyous and heartbreaking and filled with tension, but also excitement.
The Claytons are clearly not getting their hopes up, taking a logical and methodical approach to assessing the jungle man's identity. They remain aloof, but friendly. Even if Tarzan is not John, his story and ordeal is fascinating and enthralling. William is clearly enraptured by his would-be cousin. Henry is simply stunned that any man could survive in this place with only his wits and a knife.
Henry does not say it, but he clearly is open to the prospect that this is his nephew. At one point, he says, "Of course if anyone could make it here, it would be a Clayton. We come from hearty stock, my boy. Simply brilliant."
The most thrilling moment is Tarzan meeting Sir Andrew. The older man brushes the long locks of hair from the jungle man's handsome face. He instantly declares that he sees the family resemblance. He points to the height and muscles as being from his family, which could be true from what I have seen. Tarzan's cousins on his mother's side, like Phillip, are tall compared to the smaller stature on the Clayton side. William is the tallest and at 5'10", he is the only Clayton of above average height.
Tarzan is entranced by Sir Andrew. The older man has a gentle warmth that soothes the savage beast, as it were. The jungle man says, "You look like mother. Here." He runs his fingers around his grandfather's eyes.
The older gentleman smiles and I see tears forming. "I do. Mary had my eyes. And you look like her in your eyes, as well. I see your father's nose and lips."
Tarzan is captivated by his family, but he is confused and and cautious. For a man who has lived a mostly solitary existence for 25 years, it is overwhelming. He stays close to me, using me as his anchor and filter. Still, he wanders away every chance he gets. He always returns, but I can tell that he is challenged by his emotions.
Following my advice, Henry and Sir Andrew focus on understanding and identification. What comes next is never discussed, but it looms large in my mind. Tarzan will not want to leave the jungle. It is his home and all he knows. As night falls, Tarzan slips away from the camp into the night, retreating to the quiet and solitude of the jungle.
Sir Andrew and Henry discuss the matter privately. I only hear snippets, but it is clear that they have come to the same conclusion. "Do not you see our families in this man, Henry?
Lord Greystoke agrees, "I admit that I do. He is every bit his parents' child. He is a large version of John and Mary."
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| William seems shocked by the discovery. |
"Thank you, but it has nothing to do with me."
"Do not be naive. Your newfound wealth can make you comfortable, but you are still of peasant stock. This, however. This will make you one of us. Sir Andrew will move heaven and earth to reward you. You can have a new station for real. Be a part of the elite. In one day, your dreams and my worst fears have been realized."
I give him a questioning look, “What do you mean?”
William smiles ruefully, "Your Tarzan ... he is John Clayton and he is a spectacular man who is better than me in every possible way. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. I did not believe it to be possible, but I stood a better chance against the ghost."
"I do not think -"
"It is true. You heard my father. Surviving here makes John a warrior, a genius and a hero. In accomplishing the impossible, he is the greatest of us all." I give a comforting hug to the handsome aristocrat. He gives me a defeated, mirthless smile, "John and I even love the same man. And, unfortunately, you love him. I see it in your eyes.”
“William -“
“Our game is over, James Porter, and I have lost."
I scoff at the idea, "William Clayton! With every advantage in the world, how dare you feel sorry for yourself! Tarzan and I had a short physical affair, but you do not know him, yet. He is a hedonist through and through. I am not sure he is even capable of romantic love. I am merely his tether during this tumultuous time. Trust me. There is affection. There was lust. But there is no love. In either direction."
William simply nods, but I can tell he does not believe me. I attempt to initiate a game. I lean in and kiss his neck while I slowly unfasten my shirt. I quickly get rebuffed. The muscular aristocrat gives me a peck on the lips, thanking me, but he says that he wants to be alone. He grabs his robe then leaves the tent into the night. I do not follow, trusting he can take care of himself.
Now I am left just as confused and conflicted. Did William just confess to loving me?
Chapter 5
"Tarzan! Look out!"
After a fretful night, I spent the morning with Tarzan, his grandfather and uncle. When he needed a break and went for a walk, I trailed him. Suddenly, I saw Angelo, Lord Greystoke's manservant and a skilled hunter taking aim at the jungle man. Tarzan is only alive because Angelo took his time to line up his shot and I was unseen, gaining the element of surprise.
 |
| Angelo. |
Drops of blood from my temple hit the jungle floor. What is happening? Everything was going so well. Tarzan shared all his personal effects and there is no doubt of his identity. He was comfortable with his relatives, opening up to them more and more. He even opened up to the vague mention of seeing his family's home, accompanying us to England.
Why would Angelo try to kill him? I look up at the hunter, disoriented, my vision blurry. Angelo ignores me. He's like a rugged circus strongman, with dark curly hair and a thick mustache. His hair is as black as his heart. I reach out and swat at his boot, but I am not sure he even feels it. I will myself to rise, but I fail. Fortunately, Tarzan is quite capable of handling himself.
Before Angelo can do anything else, Tarzan is there. He rips the gun from the hunter's hands then throws it aside. I watch helplessly as the two musclemen begin to fight. The swarthy hunter throws fists at the jungle man's face, but he blocks them. Tarzan kicks out, driving his foot into Angelo's stomach. When the hunter bends over, the jungle man clubs him to the ground.
The hunter lashes out, tripping the jungle man down. He leaps on top of Tarzan, pinning him to the jungle floor. When the swarthy hunter pulls his hand up for a punch, the long-haired muscleman throws him off. Tarzan leaps on top of the hunter. They struggle violently. Angelo's shirt tears open, exposing his hairy chest and stomach.
I watch as their muscles strain. Tarzan is stronger, but Angelo's superior skill evens the battle. The hunter mounts the jungle man then finally connects with a right hand across his chin. Angelo tears off his shirt then uses it to choke Tarzan. My manhood involuntarily stirs as I remember William doing the same to me, albeit under very different circumstances.
The fabric stretches around Tarzan's powerful neck. The jungle man struggles for breath as he grips the hunter's thick forearms. I fight to intercede, but my body does not want to obey my brain. Fortunately, Tarzan overpowers the brutish hunter, forcing his arms up. With a mighty thrust, the young savage hurls Angelo from his perch.
Tarzan rolls to a crouch. I hear him growl like an animal as Angelo rises. The hunter reaches for his knife, but the jungle man spins and kicks, taking out his knee. Angelo drops down. Tarzan leaps on top of him. He reaches for his own knife, forgetting that it is back at camp, along with the other heirlooms that prove his identity. The distraction is all Angelo needs to reverse their positions.
Angelo strikes Tarzan across the face. CRACK! The jungle man goes limp. The hunter forces Tarzan's arms to his side then pins them with his powerful legs. I cry out, slowly rising. The hairy brute looks at me to ensure I will not interfere with his murderous task again. Confident that I am too slow and too far away, he fishes for his knife once more.
As soon as Angelo pulls the knife out, Tarzan wildly convulses, throwing him off. They rise together, blood dripping from Tarzan's mouth. Angelo brandishes the knife like an expert. He lunges, forcing the mighty jungle man to dodge. The hunter thrusts and shifts, striking wildly. Or so it seems. Tarzan realizes too late that he is being maneuvered. The ape man backs right into a huge tree. Angelo has trapped him.
I demand, "STOP!"
Angelo ignores me until I pull the trigger on the rifle. The sound echoes throughout the jungle. The diabolical manservant turns to see me with his weapon. He sneers at me, unafraid even as I lower it at him. I warn him, “I fought in the trenches of The Great War from the age of 15, sir. If you do not think I know how to kill a man then you are gravely mistaken. Stand down.”
The swarthy hunter pauses, suddenly gaining more respect for me and understanding the danger he is in. I calmly aim at him and he can see that I am both serious and know how to handle a weapon. Before anything else can happen, Tarzan knocks the knife away from the hunter. He grasps Angelo around the waist and lifts him into a crushing bearhug.
I am forced to lower the rifle fully, unwilling to even risk aiming it at Tarzan. I can only watch and hope that he can handle the murderous Angelo. But if he cannot then I will kill the hairy brute. I swear it. The jungle man squeezes his attacker then violently throws him back and forth. The hairy muscleman flails as he's flung about. Tarzan throws him down to the jungle floor then leaps on top of him.
The two massive musclemen battle for supremacy, fighting for control. Tarzan is on top, but Angelo is a skilled fighter. He manages to throw his fist up past the jungle man's arms. The punch connects with Tarzan's chin, stunning him and allowing Angelo to mount him. The jungle man throws him to the side before the hunter can strike him and the two men rise.
Tarzan charges in. Angelo fires a powerful jab, but the jungle man is able to duck and grab the thick and hairy hunter around the chest. He barrels forward, lifting Angelo off his feet then driving him down onto the jungle floor. Angelo lies spreadeagle from the power of the tackle, combined with devastating impact into the immovable jungle floor and irresistible force of the 230-lbs of muscle landing on top of him.
The hairy brute moans as Tarzan rears back. The jungle man clubs the hunter with powerful forearms. Angelo tries to defend himself, covering his head with his forearms. He begs for mercy, pleading for Tarzan to stop pummeling him. It's shocking to see him surrender, but Tarzan is unbelievably strong. Each strike is a potentially deadly one.
Tarzan slows his attack, but he does not rise. He puts his hand around Angelo's throat. The hunter remains submissive, begging for mercy, saying this is all a mistake. I know that is a lie, but I do not want the jungle man to kill Angelo, so I remain quiet. With the danger passed, I put the rifle down then move to my friend. I help Tarzan up, calming him. He seethes with anger.
I see Angelo's eyes narrow and I instinctively realize that this is not over. I move against Tarzan, spinning in front of him. The hunter's boot slams into my hip instead of Tarzan's manhood. I fly to the side, my leg aching. The jungle man growls with rage. Angelo rolls and dives for his rifle, but Tarzan is too fast. He leaps on Angelo’s back and locks on a choke from behind.
Tarzan drags Angelo up, choking him. The hunter begs for a moment then loses the ability to speak. I rise, my leg feeling better. I beg Tarzan not to kill him, but the jungle man will not listen. The hairy hunter hangs helplessly in the mighty jungle man’s choke, his face red and his eyes rolling back in his head. Angelo is mere seconds from unconsciousness or possibly worse.
"STOP THIS AT ONCE!" Tarzan freezes, his grip easing. Sir Andrew stands, seething with rage. Phillip, his faithful protector, hovers behind him as a looming physical threat to any who wish to challenge his grandfather's will. The elder gentleman calmly says, "This is NOT how WE behave. Now settle down immediately."
The jungle man obeys, allowing Angelo to collapse, gasping for air on his knees in front of Tarzan. I realize the innate power in this patriarch for the first time. His presence and voice give him the authority. As things settle down, I accuse Angelo of trying to kill Tarzan. He denies it through coughing fits. The hunter rises and speaks with a rasp. He claims he was hunting for food and was never even aiming at Tarzan. The hunter says the ensuing fight was initiated by the jungle man and he was merely defending himself. I know the truth. Tarzan believes me, but Henry accepts Angelo's explanation then sends him back to camp.
The majestic Sir Andrew remains above the debate, his thoughts hidden from all of us. He ends the conversation, looking directly at Sir Henry, "Nothing like this shall happen again."
The issue is seemingly resolved, but I feel intense anger at being dismissed. I am still agitated from the fight, that energy bubbling within me. I can barely control myself until William puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. It gives me pause and I hold my tongue, having said my piece.
Tarzan looks at his grandfather then his uncle then to me, "Thank you for saving my life again, James Porter. You are my friend, but I am not wanted here. Goodbye."
Before anyone can react, the jungle man races into the bush, vanishing into the thick brush. William moves to chase his cousin, but I grab his arm. He halts. I explain, "Tarzan swings on vines through the trees like the wind. We cannot hope to catch him. He is gone."
Chapter 6
Tarzan's departure has everything is disarray.
Now, it is all in doubt. How long do we wait for Tarzan to return? I go for a walk with my sketchbook to clear my head. I seclude myself in a private spot, double checking for hovering threats. My images are sharp and angular, reflecting my current mood. As I sit there, I see Angelo and William. Why are they together?
The two of them are arguing, but I cannot hear the words. It is clear that William is reading Angelo the riot act. The muscular aristocrat is an intimidating man and even though the hunter is larger, he has his head bowed in a submissive posture. I know what this is about. I wait until they break apart then follow William.
"William!" He stops, surprised to see me. I lean in and kiss him. When I pull away, I say, "Thank you."
The handsome aristocrat asks, "For what?"
"For believing in me. I saw you berating that treacherous beast Angelo. I appreciate you taking my side against your father. Tarzan needs you. And so do I." I hug him and he hugs me back. "Did you find out why he wanted to murder Tarzan?"
William breaks the hug then shakes his head, After a moment, he tells me, "Angelo is standing by his story. He has been loyal to my father for decades." He looks at my face, but does not find whatever he is searching for. He smiles, "James Porter, you are a special man, but you are so new to my world."
"What does that mean?"
William replies, "Do you really not realize what you have done? My father is no longer Lord Greystoke. It matters little to me as I am a long way from the title, but my father has has been master for 20 years, ever since his father's death. In one move, you have diminished Henry Clayton's station. It will be embarrassing and humbling for him to lose his power, especially to this jungle man."
I freeze, "Are you saying that -" I cannot finish the thought. It is too shocking.
William grabs me, "Calm yourself, James Porter. It might have really been an accident. It might have been Angelo defending his master. Or it might have been something more sinister." I open my mouth to speak, but my friend covers my mouth, "But it does not matter. Put this out of your mind and never bring it up again."
"How can I?"
"Sir Andrew is aware of the encounter and clearly disturbed by it. One accident can be forgiven. Two cannot. Do not be deceived. His lordship is no kindly old fool. He is not a man to be crossed, even by Lord Greystoke. You have him on your side. And I will do everything I can to ensure John's future."
I grab William's wrist and lead him into the jungle. We walk deeper and deeper before finally reaching a small secluded clearing. We are far from camp, but our compass will guide us back. I want privacy. He watches with curiosity as I strip naked then present myself to him. He looks me up and down then smiles. "You are a special man, James Porter, special indeed."
I smile, "As are you, William."
My lover looks at my sketchbook. He asks, "Show me what you are drawing." I refuse. His eyes narrow then says in a stern voice. "Show me the book." I nod, reluctantly picking it up then handing it to him. He says, "That is better. Do not try to change the rules of our game, James."
I stand naked before him, shifting as I wait to see his reaction to my work. William looks down at the ground and raises an eyebrow. I instinctively drop to my knees. I look up at him as he finally flips through my secret visual journal. The pictures of nude men. Posing. Wrestling. He does not say anything, but he does react. A raised eyebrow. A smirk. A lick of his lips with his tongue. I sneak a glance at his trousers to see his penis growing larger.
William tosses the book down, "Interesting, James." My lover strips off his own clothes, neatly folding them. As he stands naked before me, I am tense with anticipation. He circles behind me then grabs me around the throat with his arm. I gag as he pulls me to my feet. He whispers, "Do you like this, James?"
I cannot speak. He holds me firmly, his muscles so much more than mine. Even if I tried to escape, I could not. However, I do not try. My back rests against his mighty torso as he chokes me. I am scared and confused. Is he angry over my drawings? I manage to whimper, begging for my freedom. He releases me and I fall to my hands and knees on the jungle floor. I cough and gag at his feet. When I look up, I see his manhood is fully engorged.
William asks, "Did you enjoy that?" I shake my head. "Then why did you draw it?" I get confused then look at my sketchbook lying on the ground. I suddenly realize what is happening. I did draw two men in the same embrace. William says, “You drew it from a lower angle, aimed up the victim’s body. That suggests submission is where your empathy lay, does it not?”
"It does. I am sorry. I did not realize what was happening and you are so very powerful, William. Please, may we try again?"
I roll back onto my knees, head bowed. As I wait, William circles behind me. He grabs me around the waist, pulling me up into him. He whispers into my ear, "I shall make every sketch in that ruddy book a reality for you, James Porter. From now on, you shall draw and I shall do the same to you."
I moan at the idea. William tightens his grip. I sink against him, helpless against his power. I cry out as he collapses my midsection against him. I struggle to breathe. The pain is intense. William truly does not know his own strength. I beg him to let go. He does, allowing me to drop again. I stare up at his sweaty, hairy body with lust.
As I start to speak, I see them. I lose my voice. My eyes go wide. William starts to ask what is wrong as he feels the sharp spear tip in his back. He turns and I spring to my feet. We are surrounded by six spear-wielding tribal warriors wearing only face paint, belts, and animal-skin footwear. Their exposed members are all impossibly large and swollen, putting even Tarzan to shame with the length and girth.
We stand our ground, but we are naked, unarmed and outnumbered. Instinctively, we move back-to-back. My hands are open and up, trying to calm the men, but as look to my left, I can see William's are balled up. He is clearly ready for a fight, but we would stand no chance. The men look strong and sinewy. And they have spears. I try to calm William, as well.
The leader waves his spear to the left. Two of them start leading us into the jungle, away from the camp. We simply have no choice but to follow.
Chapter 7
We march for hours through the dense jungle. Our feet are raw from the ground, our bodies marked by the foliage scratching and clawing at us. My attempts at diplomacy have been as futile as William's attempts at physical resistance and escape. He is so very brave, but this is not the time. However, his courage has inspired my own. I must thank him for that.
At nightfall, we arrive at a small village. The locals stare at us in the fire light. They surround us, but only the warriors approach us. Their hands curiously explore our white flesh. I think I hear the name ‘Tarzan’. Perhaps it is wishful thinking, but these people may have seen at least one white man before. However, is he friend to these people or foe?
We are fondled and tested as we are paraded through the crowd. William is muscular and powerful, but so are they. The naked warriors are physically impressive. The largest are Tarzan’s stature with sculpted, sinewy muscles. Their dark skin is smooth and shiny from sweat. And the vast majority of their dangling members put ours to shame.
I feel humiliated as they squeeze my muscles, spread my buttocks and freely tug on my genitals. They test my body, curious and shameless. I am as helpless here as I am in William's game, but this is very different. I am safe with my lover. Here, we are in mortal danger. We are dragged through the long gauntlet of warriors, each taking a turn at manhandling us.
When we reach the end, a man with a large headdress stands before us. He looks us over, examining us. I see that he is much more interested in William, perhaps because of his obvious physical prowess and power. One of our captors speaks reverently to the man. His hand gestures seem to indicate that he is describing a fight. Is he saying he overpowered us? Or perhaps describing a fight to come. I am simply guessing, but it keeps my mind focused on something other than my fear.
We are gripped tightly by four men. Our legs and arms are pulled open and we're held in a spread-eagle formation. The man with the headdress moves in. Even William does not struggle, sensing the overwhelming numbers and the position this man must hold. To strike him would likely mean instant death. And so we wait.
The man in the headdress runs the back of his hand over William’s cheek. He slides it onto his firm chest then punches each pectoral muscle. The man nods before doing the same on his stomach. He cups under William's manhood, lifting it and inspecting it. The man nods, perhaps giving his approval. But for what?
I wait my judgment, hoping that I am not judged as too thin or weak. No matter their intent, I prefer to keep living to either escape or be rescued. We will be missed. And there is Tarzan. My chest rises and my spirits lifts as I think about him saving me again. Where are you, Tarzan? Please save me. With my thoughts of the jungle man in my head, I make it through my inspection. To my relief, the man seems to find me also satisfactory. With a wave of his hand, we are dragged to a nearby hut.
Inside, our wrists and ankles are bound with crude ropes that cut into our flesh. There is two feet of length, giving us limited movement. We are further restricted when we are then tethered to the center post by rope harnesses that cross our chests and connect at our back. I am thankful that we have any freedom, even if only within this hut which acts as our prison. Clearly, we are not going anywhere. But why?
I try some of the universal symbols of peace my former employer Mr. Moorhead taught me, but the tribesmen do not react. I use names of our guides from my last trip, hoping for any kind of connection. Nothing. I try a few of the words Sefu, one of the original guides, taught me. I might get some reaction, but it is difficult to tell. Certainly they do not work to understand us.
I shudder as one of the warriors tightly grips my manhood. He fondles it and I see his thick organ swell. I can only stand there as he gropes me, scared by where this might go. It is more than inspection. I see his rod continue to grow to inhuman proportions. It is by far the largest I have seen. He caresses my torso then roughly kneads my ass, spreading my buttocks apart.
William steps forward to defend me, but he is grabbed by the other two warriors. They fondle and caress him. I whimper and hold his gaze as we are manhandled by the aroused ebony soldiers. All three of them are fully erect and I remember Tarzan’s tale of being captured and used by a tribe. Is that these men? He said he was bred relentlessly until he escaped. Is that the fate in store for us? Concubines for these men?
I stand still, holding my position. William resists, unwilling to be a plaything. The two men grab him and the largest one moves off me. My lover kicks out, but the vines around his ankle prevent it. The largest warrior moves in close and punches William’s chest. Not too hard, but more as test of their firmness. The men speak in their strange tongue. They laugh as the bigger warrior continues to poke and prod William’s hard, muscular body.
William never stops struggling, but that only excites the warriors more. He is bound and held. We are surrounded by a tribe and jungle. The three warriors know we are powerless. I watch helplessly as they roughly test my lover. I am used to this kind of situation, but William is not. He is never the one bound and helpless. I admire his unwillingness to give in, even as I question the wisdom of his actions.
The two warriors holding William suddenly bend him forward to the end of the rope. No wonder they left so much slack. The third man moves around back. He roughly investigates the helpless white man’s ass more closely. I take a step, but William tells me to stop. He says that I must not anger them. He tells me that he is fine and we must get through this.
I almost question why he is resisting while telling me not to, but I realize the answer. William is defending me. Taking the attention for himself. I am both proud and ashamed by his courage and selflessness. I stand my ground, helplessly watching as he is penetrated by a thick black finger. I see him tensing, trying to fight the intrusion into his virgin hole.
I tell him to relax. William actually listens and I see him calm himself. While he slides his finger in and out, the warrior reaches up between William’s legs and grabs his penis. He begins to tug on it, milking my lover like a cow. In spite of himself, William cannot resist. He moans as he is pumped. My own organ involuntarily grows as I watch the scene play out.
As William’s breathing grows more rapid, the milker calls out. A fourth man enters with a wooden bowl. He holds it under my lover. The pumping accelerates and within a minute, the helpless white man surrenders his seed, drained of his cum. The load is sizable and the manhood is squeezed until not even drops come out any longer.
The warriors release William then look at me then into the bowl. They talk then exit without coming back to me. Either William's seed was sufficient or I was deemed unworthy. I move in to my friend and caress his back as he rises. He looks distressed, but determined. That loss of control had to be humiliating for such a dominant man, but he is handling it well. Outwardly at least. I know I need to boost his ego back up.
I thank the brooding William for his courage, telling him that I would have fallen apart without him. He smiles, “Little did I know that all these months of our games I was training you for a group of savages.” I smile back until he adds, “Were this only a game, James Porter. We must prepare ourselves to fight. We must escape or die trying.”
I shift in the ropes, “I know. But how?”
“Did you do as I told you?”
“Yes, of course. I flexed every muscle and made myself as big as possible. The ropes are tight, but not impossibly so.”
“Good boy. At least we have that advantage. While we do not know what they are saying, neither do they understand us.” I admire his optimism. It keeps me calm. William kneels down and uses his finger to draw on the dirt floor. ”We came east, moving away from the sun. We cannot have come more than ten miles.”
“Yes. And I remember the navigation charts. The moon is in the western sky now.”
“Well done. This structure is on the western edge, so if we can get out of this hut, the jungle is right there. We can follow the moon. With any luck, we will meet a party from camp. They must be looking for us by now.”
I nod. As he works on his ropes, I blurt out, “I am so sorry, William.”
“For what?”
“For being afraid.”
William hugs me, “Oh dear James Porter. Of course you are. You are human.”
“But you are not. I wish I could match your bravery.”
William releases me then looks into my eyes, “You are wrong, James Porter. I am every bit as terrified as you are. Perhaps more. Only a fool would not be scared. But only a fool would allow his fear to control him. I have seen nothing of that from you. You are remaining calm and focused. If it helps, imagine that this is one of our games. Only for higher stakes.”
I nod, “William, I cannot hold this in. I must tell you that I love you. More now than ever.”
“And I you, James Porter. We are bound together by something stronger than this rope. How I would love to take you right now, but we have not the time. We must get free and that will not be easy. We must be on the move now and as far from here as possible by dawn.”
Chapter 8
We make our way through the dark, dense jungle. With any luck, the tribesmen will not discover our escape until morning. Or if they do discover us early, hopefully they will not know how to track us until light. We move painfully slowly, but we are moving, hand-in-hand, together. Naked and weaponless, we know that there are worse dangers in the jungle than spear-wielding warriors, so we must be cautious.
Dawn comes slowly, but every minute makes our journey easier. I am leading, as the everso slightly more experienced one in the jungle. We move faster and faster, but we know that our pursuers will catch up to us quickly. As we reach a particularly gnarly tree, William and I exchange a smile. He says, “Well done, James Porter. I remember this tree.”
“As do I. But it also means that we are now on the exact trail we followed. Should we move off? It is faster to stay, but we will be easier for the tribesmen to find us.”
William thinks as we move. He finally says, “Do you think we can hide from men who live in this jungle and patrol it daily?”
“No. You are right. Our only hope is to get closer to our camp where guns will ward off spears.”
We continue our trek. An hour later, we hear rustling. Blocking our path are four warriors. We turn to see four more. We are caught again. Surrounded. William says, “Prepare to fight for your life, James Porter. If we can just get one spear we will have a chance.”
Two men lunge at us. We successfully dodge, our fencing experience proving worthwhile. We grab the hilts. My opponent pulls his spear free, but William keeps hold of his. Two more men come at us just as William overpowers his warrior, wrenching the weapon free. I move in close to protect his back. I might not be much of a fighter, but I can at least be a shield for him.
I brace to be gored by the primitive spears, determined to hold my position when I hear it. “AHHH AHH AH AH AHHHHHH!” Tarzan! My heart soars.
The tribesmen are frozen, looking around at the trees. I see the one to my left gripping his spear tighter, but the one on the right is distracted. I lunge and tear it from his grip then return to William’s back. I point the weapon at them. Behind me, William swings his spear at one’s knee, knocking the warrior down with a mighty strike. WHACK! He deftly swings the spear as a staff, striking across the fallen man’s head, knocking him unconscious. I feel my heart racing.
Seven versus two with a third on the way.
The warriors focus on us once again, but now it is more dangerous for them. One of them is unconscious, two are now weaponless, we are armed and there is the lurking threat of Tarzan, whom they clearly know. It gives them pause. As we wait in the standoff, a blur flies from my left. Tarzan barrels into two of the armed warriors facing me, knocking them down as he crashes into them.
Tarzan wrestles for control of a spear with one while the other tries to regain his wits. Behind me, his aristocratic cousin launches an assault of his own, wildly attacking the three shocked and disoriented tribesmen. I try to distract my two, defending the backs of both Tarzan and William. What follows is a melee as the three of us engage the seven ebony warriors.
I use my fencing skills to successfully parry and deflect the one with a spear while blocking the one without. Meanwhile, Tarzan wrestles the two of my men he tackled. He holds down the one, choking him with his large, powerful right hand. The other rises and attacks his back, but the jungle man withstands the blow. He throws his left arm backwards, swatting the warrior away.
Tarzan chokes one on the ground into unconsciousness just as his partner leaps at him again. The jungle man rolls out of the way, leaving the warrior to land on his unmoving ally. The jungle man grabs him from behind in a powerful bearhug. He whips the man back and forth violently. He lets go then lifts the man overhead. He hurls the helpless warrior at my opponents, scattering them and forcing them to retreat backwards a few steps.
Behind me, I hear William still engaged with his three men as spears slap and crash. I still cannot help, focused on my two men, who are back, looking for any opening to attack me or Tarzan. It is hard to focus knowing William is in peril, but my muscular friend’s majesty gives me hope and strength. Tarzan's bronzed muscles are swollen to epic proportions, his body glistening with sweat and pure masculine power is radiating from him.
A fallen ebony warrior struggles to rise, but Tarzan charges in then kicks him in the head, knocking him down for good. The jungle man picks up a spear. It is now five against three. Tarzan breaks it across his thigh then throws it aside. He speaks words I cannot understand, but the tribesmen clearly do. They respond. I am impressed. I remind myself that he is quite intelligent, just in a different way.
The warriors back up then stand tall. Tarzan orders William and I to drop our spears. William questions his cousin, but I obey without question. As soon as my spear hits the ground, my armed opponent drops his spear. William begrudgingly surrenders his weapon and his three men do the same. I relax, “Thank god. It's over.”
Tarzan says, “Not over, James. We must still fight.”
William says, “Well done. cousin. I'll take my fists over a spear any day.”
I turn to William, “As will I. They have no idea who they're - William! You're injured!” I notice a gash on his leg. Blood runs down his thick leg.
My lover says, “Do not concern yourself with me, James. Focus on the fight!”
As he says that, the five remaining warriors charge. The two largest attack Tarzan. Two more target William. The smallest one comes at me. I adopt a fighting stance and when he gets close, I fire a jab then a cross. He defends neither, my punches landing on his face. He staggers back and I realize that my training gives me an advantage.
We turn in a half circle as my opponent more cautiously looks for an opportunity to attack. Behind him, I can see both Tarzan and William. The jungle man is wrestling his men as they throw themselves at him and he fights to throw them off. William is fending his men off with powerful fists, striking through their undisciplined defenses whenever they get too close.
While William and I are in standoffs, Tarzan is in full battle with his warriors. The two large muscular men are nearly comparable in size to the jungle man. They attack in unison and my confidence shakes a little as I see them effectively engage him. As one goes high, the other goes low. Tarzan may be the stronger man and superior fighter, but they are able counter his advantages with their tactics.
The warriors pound his body, but Tarzan handles the fists. He returns the attack in kind, knocking each one down. They rise as quickly as he drops them to renew their ferocious assault. During the melee, one grabs Tarzan's loincloth, using it to pull himself up. The leather straps break and the cloth flies off. Now all eight of us are naked, this battle truly a primal experience.
My warrior grows frustrated by my tactical use of hands and feet. He tries a few charges, but I successfully fend them off with my fists and he ends up staggering backwards. I hear him growl with anger, which I take as a good sign. I steal a glance at William, who is more aggressive, but patient. Our skills seem to confound these warriors.
Meanwhile, in the war of the three jungle men, one of the warriors launches himself at Tarzan, who pushes the man aside, but he leaves himself wide open for the other to charge in from the side. The warrior successfully tackles the jungle man down, getting on top. Tarzan throws him off, but the other warrior is there, jumping on him. As soon as Tarzan deals with one, the other is back on the attack. It is relentless and clearly designed to wear down the mighty muscleman.
I continue to defend myself, but I can do nothing for Tarzan. He manages to rise to a crouch, but each warrior attacks with powerful strikes to his back. They stagger him. One grabs him around the throat from behind while his partner kicks Tarzan in the stomach. The jungle man goes weak for a moment, but then throws himself forward, flipping the man on his back over onto his naked ass.
As Tarzan rises, the standing warrior is right there, tackling the naked jungle man back down hard. They crash to the jungle floor, the 220-lbs of ebony warrior driving the air from Tarzan’s body. With the jungle man winded, the warrior is able to wrap both his hands around Tarzan’s neck as he straddles him. My friend and ally struggles under him, wildly bucking his hips as the life is drained from him. The other warrior is back up. He grabs Tarzan's legs, lifting them to remove his leverage and ability to throw the choker off him.
My fear grows as I realize that if Tarzan falls, William and I stand no chance!
Chapter 9
I simply must help Tarzan against the two largest of the warriors.
In desperation, I launch a foolish and wild attack, throwing fists at my opponent. He steps back, surprised and unprepared for my abrupt shift from defense to offense. I fail to connect with even a single punch, but that is not my goal. I successfully push my foe backwards into his ally, the one holding Tarzan’s legs. When we are there, I throw myself at my man and our combined weight crashes into him. The three of us fall, knocking into the one choking Tarzan and breaking his assault.
The five of us struggle in the pile of naked, sweaty muscle, limbs and manhoods flailing. Confusion reigns, but I lash out at anything dark, actually paralyzing the warriors with strikes to their crotches. It takes some time to untangle ourselves, but we break and rise. Tarzan and I stand shoulder to shoulder as do the three warriors opposite us.
One of the warriors has a noticeable limp and all three are hunched. I cannot help but smile, knowing that I did that. Their members might be larger than ours, but they are still vulnerable to an old-fashioned attack. Perhaps this is the approach we should take from now on. Before I can communicate this, the five warriors charge at us in unison and the battle is back on.
While Tarzan and I brace for impact, I see William has control over his men, both looking staggered and possibly punch drunk as he strikes them seemingly at will. I feel a moment of relief until my smaller warrior leaps at me. I cannot evade this attack and we crash to the jungle floor. I manage to roll with it, getting on top then rolling off into a crouch. Thank you, William for all your training.
The warrior rises fast and leaps at me, obviously tired of my delay tactics. He clearly intends to fully engage me in battle and force me to fight him directly. I narrowly dodge his leap, but he prepares to come at me again. I crouch down, fists up and move as he does. My posture slows his attack, but I can tell that he is looking for any opening I might reveal.
Behind him, I see that the two largest warriors are doing the same reckless tactic to Tarzan. They charge in together to grab him. Even the mighty jungle man is overwhelmed as they drive him back against a large tree. They punch his incredible body, simultaneously using their arms as clubs against his chest and stomach. His powerful body absorbs the blows, but he is so sweaty and breathing so hard that I can tell that he is tiring.
Tarzan pushes them away then matches their ferocity. He suddenly charges at one, leaping at him. The jungle man kicks the warrior in the chest, literally landing on top of him as they slam onto the jungle floor. Tarzan rolls away and the victim lies, moaning in pain. The jungle man bounces like an ape then races at the standing warrior. As he charges, he steps on the prone warrior’s stomach, using it to fly forward.
The standing warrior’s go wide at the aight of the wild man flying at him. These men have unleashed Tarzan's animalistic side. He swings his arms, clubbing the warrior to the ground. Relentless arms and feet break the ebony muscleman down. I see the prone warrior fighting to rise, holding his stomach. I once again use my superior skill to maneuver my warrior where I want him. His back is to Tarzan’s battle, so he cannot see what has happened. I push him right into his ally. My opponent trips, landing on the other warrior, knocking the wind out of both of them.
I dive on top of them then start firing fists into the smaller one’s face. With both of our weight on the bigger one, he cannot move. His abdomen was ravaged by Tarzan's weight and now ours further breaks him down. My blows take their toll, my opponent unable to mount an attack of his own. Just as I am about to unleash the finishing shot, we are thrown off by the muscular warrior.
I land on my behind, watching as he rises. He stares at me with hatred and I realize that he is coming for me, leaving his tribemate to face Tarzan alone. I tense as I sit helplessly before him. From the side, a white blur comes in and levels him with a powerful punch across the jaw. Tarzan! No, it is William who saved me! My lover has dispatched his warriors and now saved me.
William uses his pugilistic prowess to pound the body and face of the much larger ebony warrior. He staggers the man, but this one is much tougher than the two William faced. As I rise, I tell him, “The body, William. Tarzan weakened his body!” The aristocrat fires a series of blows into the dark midsection, getting grunts of pain each time.
Emboldened by this, William aims low, but the warrior is not only bigger, he is a better fighter than his allies. He actually blocks a punch then retaliates with one of his own that drives William back beside me. I check to see that my opponent is still unmoving. I guess my assault was better than I thought. William and I stand together, ready to face this monster. Just then, Tarzan flies in, landing on the man’s head and shoulder then driving him face first down into the dirt.
Tarzan leaps off, positioning himself in front of William and I in a crouch, like a dog defending its masters. I do not mean that in a bad way, it is just what has happened. The large warrior is unmoving. We survey the scene. All five of our opponents are unconscious or unmoving. One of the ones Tarzan tackled originally is rising. He looks for a spear only to see his allies defeated and the three of us naked and bruised, but victorious.
The warrior looks afraid, but Tarzan gives him a command. He turns and runs away, leaving the other warriors on the ground. The jungle man rises. He beats his chests and bellows, “AHHH AHH AH AH AHHHHHH!” When he finishes he turns to us, “Are you good?”
 |
| Tarzan victorious. |
“You are welcome, William. Now, you must go back to your camp before more men arrive. They will be looking for you.”
I ask, “And what of you? Will not they hunt you down?” Tarzan does not reply, so I grab his arm, “You must come with us, Tarzan. Please. Come to the camp. You will be safe now.” I turn to William, “Please. Help me convince him!”
William thinks for a moment then sighs, “Well, we cannot have the rightful heir to the House of Greystoke roaming around, can we? All right.”
With William's help, the jungle man reluctantly agrees, so the three of us make our way back. Naked. Bruised. Scarred. William and I are starving and thirsty, but we drive ourselves forward to safety.
Chapter 10
Tarzan leads us back to camp. We get a warm welcome then raised eyebrows at our condition. Our jungle savior returned us to the place of our capture, but we decide to carry our clothes. We do not share when we were stripped, but our naked bodies are marked from the bindings and brush, bruised from the fight and bronzed from the sun. We look like savages, not men of stature.
Once we explain, Sir Andrew and Sir Henry thank Tarzan for saving us. They shower him with attention, pleading with him not to run off. Fortunately, the jungle man has developed a particular bond to his grandfather. With both of us coercing him, Tarzan relents and remains with us for the duration of our stay.
I see William off to the side. He is sullen and quiet. I feel for him, overshadowed by his magnificent cousin. I know what I must do. I begin to recount our tale, leaving out how it began. I explain that while Tarzan did save us, William kept us alive. I brag about William's bravery and fighting prowess, regaling the throng with a detailed account of how he thrashed the natives until it took ten of their mightiest warriors to control him and how defiant he was before their chief.
I am pleased when Tarzan supports his cousin, confirming that William is a brave and mighty warrior. The attention shifts to my lover. In true aristocratic tradition, he is outwardly modest, but I know that he is inwardly proud. By the time we finally get to clean up in the river and have our wounds attended to, William is every bit the conquering hero that his cousin is.
As we head to our tent to get dressed, I get ahead of William. I quickly turn, drop down and wait on my knees for him. When he enters, he smiles broadly at the sight of me. My handsome lover stands in front of me, with his hands on his hips. He runs his hand through my hair then gently caresses my face. He grabs my chin and raises my gaze to meet his own.
William smiles, "Thank you for telling your tale, James Porter."
I smile back, “Every word was true.”
I do not move. William nods then lowers my face so that I am staring at the growing manhood before me. I accept his invitation by grabbing his thick member. I pump it then engulf it in my mouth. The river has cleansed us and I savor the pure taste of my lover's organ as I suckle upon it.
William stretches as I work on him then withdraws from me. He lifts me to my feet then into a tight embrace. We kiss deeply and he dominates me in our romantic embrace. He ravages my neck as he fondles my buttocks. My penis grows hard, rising between us. With a bear-like squeeze, I am crushed against his hairy torso. The pain feels wonderful on my achy body.
I grip his shoulders tightly as he adjusts his hips so that our members rise beside each other, both wedged between our stomachs. We stare at each other in shadow before I am turned around. I moan a plea for William to take me. Seconds later, I feel his thick organ enter me and I shudder with pleasure. Our lovemaking is slow, but intense.
William's manhood pierces my soul as he thrusts into me. Our ordeal has connected us in a new way and I can feel the difference. We are united as one now. Not master and student, but we are a single beast with two backs. I feel his hands caressing me as he breeds me. I spontaneously erupt, unable to contain my ecstasy. I shake over and over as my seed sprays from me.
My willing submission is all that it takes for William to release his seed into me. I feel the warmth of his passion inside me and I moan with joy. It takes a surprisingly long time before he is drained. When he pulls out, I feel empty until I am immediately scooped up in his arms. He lowers me onto the cot then moves in behind me. He holds me tight in his powerful arms. I nestle against him, feeling his hairy body on my back.
William whispers, "James Porter."
I whisper back, "William Clayton."
"You are so smart and yet so innocent. Kind and generous, but adventurous and daring. Handsome and yet beautiful. Passionate and selfless. I have never known anyone like you."
"Oh William. I have never known a man like you, either."
"I am honored by that, James Porter. I have lived a life in the shadow of a ghost and now a god. And yet, you are here. With me. No one has ever believed in me this way. You see me. The real me. The deviant. The scoundrel. The brute. And yet, you are here. You actually choose to be with me."
"I do."
"I pledge to never let you go, James Porter. For always and a day, we shall be together."
Tears well up in my eyes and my throat catches. William laughs at my shock and nervousness. I finally start to speak, but William smothers my mouth with his before I can reply.
Epilogue
When we depart Africa, William and I resume our sexual game of master and student on the ship. Outside our cabins, we are friends. Inside, we are young lovers. He continues to challenge me and take me to new heights of ecstasy. Our experience has only intensified our game and made William more bold in his domination of me. In private, I am almost property, but I always feel his love for me, even if it is not explicitly spoken.
Onboard, we have a new guest with us. Sir Andrew and I persuaded Tarzan to join us on our journey. It took considerable convincing and promises that he can return if he wants. Once convinced, we had to overcome so many hurdles, like getting him on a boat. It is the first time I've seen fear from the jungle man as he tried to understand how the metal container could ever stay afloat.
Harder still? Putting him in our clothes. The white cotton shirt is always open, unable to contain his barrel chest. The beige pants too short and stretched tight over his thick thighs. Due to the size of his buttocks in back, the outline of his manhood is clear for all to see in front. No boots were comfortable for his feet, so he roams barefoot.
And yet, the hardest part is rejecting his advances. Tarzan does not understand my connection to William. He only understands his basic needs. And one of those needs is sex. We have been at sea four days when I finally succumb to him. I stumble across the jungle man, stripped down naked, bouncing and pacing. His tanned muscles large and covered in perspiration. He needs freedom, feeling akin to being caged while on the ship. The sight of his magnificence stirs my passions.
I make the mistake of leading him to his cabin to put his clothes back on. Before I can think, Tarzan has me in an unbreakable bearhug. I push against him, but he kisses me, just as I taught him. As I helplessly melt, he works my clothes off my body. I fight, but it is too late. With one move, I am thrown down then pinned to the floor by his power. We stare at each other. I could say, 'no'. I should say, 'no'. So far, everything has been at Tarzan's behest. I have not betrayed William. I have resisted the jungle man to the best of my ability. If I told Tarzan 'no' in this moment, he might release me. But I do not.
The jungle man reaches for my legs and lifts them. We never break our stare. He takes me, his large organ opening me wide. I whimper, but I give myself to him. To the moment. The sensation feels so good that I am powerless to resist. He drives deep inside me with mighty thrusts of his incredible body. I grip his arms. They are like granite. Just like I remember. I moan and throw my head back. He thrusts harder and harder then I hear him groan and I feel warm inside. The jungle man continues to ride me, but slower as he drains himself.
I relax as our time together ends. Tarzan is finished, his seed inside me. I immediately feel guilt, although my manhood is engorged. I move to rise, but the jungle man stops me. He seizes my hard penis then pulls on it, smiling as I gasp. When he takes it into his mouth, I cannot breathe. Oh no. As if sensing my forthcoming eruption, Tarzan withdraws.
The mighty jungle man turns and moves onto hand and knee, thrusting his incredible posterior up and out at me. I accept the invitation, entering him quickly. It has been a long time since I was in this position with a man and now here I am with the most beautiful man on earth offering me his hole. I plan to savor every moment of it. I have never been inside William. With Tarzan, not only am I on top, but I am on top of a singularly magnificent man.
I try to make it last, but I erupt quickly, filling Tarzan with my seed. He moans, enjoying the feeling. When I withdraw, guilt overwhelms me. The jungle man is oblivious to my feeling, asking to go again. I willingly succumb, allowing him to breed me for a second time. Afterwards, as we get dressed, I beg him to keep this a secret. He agrees, perhaps finally understanding the situation or perhaps merely trusting me as his friend and primary connection to the civilized world.
For the rest of the trip, I engage in a devious and shameful exercise of satisfying two men in secret romances. William is my love and Tarzan is my lust. At least I hope that is what it is. My feelings are growing for both men and I know it is not right. I am confused. I never thought Tarzan capable of sustained interest. I am still not sure he is. And yet, while Tarzan is a hedonist, he is also a generous lover who treats me as his equal. William is committed to me, but he is always my master. Perhaps I have my feelings backwards.
No. That is foolish. I love William. I do. Once we are in England, Tarzan will be swept up in family and duty. He is capricious and will find new things to attract his fancy, another man or perhaps even a woman. The jungle man does not feel love in the civilized sense, only the desire to fulfill his baser needs. Anyone will do for him. Yes. I am a convenience to him, nothing more. Once home, my physical relationship with him will end and I will focus entirely on my love for William.
I am sure of it.
The End
A nice change of pace! Love that William (and I hope hope HOPE he doesn't turn out to be evil!). Can't wait to see more of Phillip either, 'cause DAAAAAAMN! Angelo was pretty hot too--ha ha, I feel a little bad to be into all these other people more than Tarzan, but what can I say. :) Fortunately there's a lot of action for plenty of guys--great story and action (as usual)!
ReplyDeleteP.S. That Phillip--DAAAAAMN!
Thanks, Sean! It's okay that you like all the other hunks. They're all worthy. If we get a T&J3, Phillip will have an expanded role. That's why I wanted him to be hot. As for William, only time will tell. ;)
DeleteSo maybe Tarzan is not for everyone especially the younger generation. I'm not sure. But this is a must read. I say that sincerely. This is a must read. Intrigue, passion, fights, sex, relationships, and more. James Porter has to handle two powerful and gorgeous hunks. Plus he has the challenge of trying to prove himself to his lover which he considers his master. Talk about mind games. Very interesting all of that.
ReplyDeleteMy suggestion to fellow readers is not to compare this story to any other story by Alex Miller. If you do, it's going to be hard. It's not the usual writing system. It's more of a short novel.
What I would suggest is to divide your reading. Alex was smart to divide it by chapters. So I took a cue from that and read one chapter at a time. Much better and exciting. It mostly has to do with breaking the mental pattern we have developed of the other series which are not novel like.
Just a simple suggestion. For me it worked like a charm. I read the story over three days and it was perfect. Super fun.
Thanks! Good advice, as it is designed more novelesque.
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