Lionel, Lord of the Jungle

Big Tits

WARNING: This is intended to be amusing. Those with a sense-of-humour bypass should go no further.

“Ooooooggg, yahoooooooo!”

With the ease of an animal born to it, Lionel Lord of the Jungle moved through the lush forest canopy of equatorial Africa with practised elegance, huge biceps bulging, sinews stretched, fine toned muscles rippling the entire length of his near naked, glistening body. In a mode of travel unique to him and the lesser primates he swung effortlessly from trailing vine to trailing vine to cover in a few minutes a distance that would take a whole day for men marching on foot.

Having spent a full day chasing gunrunners and slave-traders and, carrying vital vaccines and packets of condoms to outlying districts, the Lord of the Jungle was at last on his way home.

On the outskirts of a native village the master of aerial agility gave a last kick with his legs before leaping down to hit the ground square on his feet. “Ouch, shit! I’m gonna bust my heels one day if I don’t start wearing sneakers.”

Solemnly he stalked down to the village where a youth was waiting to greet him at the door of a hut built of mud and woven grass. He was eighteen, slender and extremely beautiful and like Lionel he’s was naked save for a small loincloth.

“Is dinner ready, Girl?” asked the Lord of the Jungle.

“Don’t call me Girl. I ain’t a girl.” replied the youth indignantly.

Lionel twitched slightly. “Huh! Oh sure. I tend to forget that when I think of you. Any grub on the go?”

“Nope, Lady Janet took the afternoon off to go up river and see Chief Zimmerframe’s golden horn.”

The Lord of the Jungle’s partner, Lady Janet Greybrick, was an English aristocrat who’d rejected a genteel life of sumptuous luxury to live in a mud hut in Africa with an uneducated, penniless deadbeat who had the table manners of a chimpanzee. The deadbeat often had trouble with her independent attitude. In fact she was still so hoity-toity he couldn’t understand what she said half the time.

Lionel grunted. “Damn that golden horn. Every time Janet goes to see it she don’t come back with anything but a fat smile on her face.

After pondering for a moment he thrust out his chin. “Nuthin’ cookin’ huh! Looks like I’m gonna have to find a goat carcass an’ skin it, gut it, an’ cut it into convenient sized pieces. Then maybe I’ll be able to trade it for a carry-out from Mrs Mbelogo’s hut.”

He looked grim. “God, I hate that woman’s carry-outs. They allus taste like baboon turd.”

“Mrs Mbelogo’s carry-outs ARE baboon turd,” said his companion.

The Lord of the Jungle nodded. “Yeah, but it wouldn’t be so bad if the goddamn bitch weren’t so tight with the chilli sauce.”

Putting off making an immediate decision Lionel turned and put a friendly arm about his companions round shoulders. He was an orphan he’d taken in when he began to develop and start to look cute. He had originally named him, Boy, but on becoming eighteen the lad had insisted on being called, Ralph.

“Well, while Janet’s away I reckon it’s a good time to do – erm – say a few things to you. It’s useful for us guys to chat together man-to-man now and then when there’s delicate issues to discuss, don’t you reckon?”

Ralph looked up at him doubtfully. “I watch you and Janet screwin’ in the corner of the hut every night, Lionel. Are you finally gonna explain to me about fuckin’?”

Lionel twitched again. “No, nothing like that. I was gonna say you need to swap your meagre little loincloth for a new one. Purple went out of style months ago y’know. You’d be better off wearing turquoise or lemon-yellow now.”

Avoiding any further attempt at rapport with someone who was cleverer than he was, Lionel stormed in through the door of the hut and gazed in satisfaction at the large chair in the centre of the straw-strewn floor. “Ah, the catalogue people have delivered my new recliner; blue chintz upholstery and stainless steel frame. Not much for the termites to chew on there, eh?”

“Looks a bit out of place in a mud hut,” Ralph remarked dubiously has he followed him in.

Lionel pouted petulantly. “Out of place! Oh no, blue chintz is perfect. Almond would have been awful, and mauve really would have clashed.” He sat on it gingerly and tested the pile of the padding by bouncing lightly up and down.

“Pink would have been nice, but us guys like to leave some choice for the girlies.”

Satisfied that the item met with all his specifications he reached out and took hold of a brown paper package that had been left on the end of it. “No one’s gonna call me stingy. I ordered a new soap dish for Lady Janet, and I godda special little prezzie for you.”

“A present?” Ralph’s eyes shone.

“Yeah, something to brighten up the evenings in this neck o’ the woods. A little black lacy garter belt an’ a pair o’ nylons.”

“I ain’t a girl,” protested Ralph for the second time that day.

The Lord of the Jungle’s face contorted cynically. “Is that right? Well, you could sure fool me when you put on Janet’s glossy lipstick Beylikdüzü escort an’ electric blue eye shadow.”

The younger man clenched his fists and planted them on his hips. “I only do that ‘cos some big galoot who ain’t a million miles away from here keeps pestering me to do it.”

Lionel waved the critisism away, swung up his legs and stretched out. “A guy should be allowed some recreation. Damn it, I work all week without even Sundays off, an’ when I get home that darn woman o’ mine still expects me to help wash the dishes. Work an’ worry, that’s all I got” A sudden frown creased his brow. “Don’t be in a hurry to grow up, kid. It’s a jungle out there in that rain forest.”

Ralph blinked. “Er yeah, I guess it must be.”

“So many trees a guy can’t get an even suntan, and so hot you’re stuffed without a decent deodorant. Choose the wrong one and the mosquito’s have you for breakfast. Worst of all, there’s not a flushing toilet anywhere.” He sighed deeply.

“Swingin’ through those damn trees is a nightmare. Grippin’ those vines all the time ruins a fella’s manicure, and tonight I banged my goolies on a tourists head on the way home. Near snapped his neck an’ nearbroke my balls.”

Ralph at last showed some concern. “Gee whiz! You’re wedding tackle is the source of countless peoples fantasies, you can’t risk having it damaged. Do you want to strip off your loincloth so I can take a look?”

Lionel nodded. “Yes, good idea, and take off your own loincloth so I can have a look too. And – er – let’s see if the garter belt fits you.”

(Cut to stock film footage of black men pounding drums and modestly dressed native women performing traditional ethnic dances – Annnd stop!)

Back in the hut Ralph put on a cute winsome expression as he posed to reveal himself wearing his recently provided suspender belt and stockings. They were the only items of clothing he wore, and Lionel nodded with approval as he made a survey of an hairless groin and a smooth sugar-stick pillowed on a soft, wrinkled little pouch.

“Your doin’ all right, kid. That fat little flute of yours will play many a fine tune eventually.”

To ease Ralph’s tardy mood Lionel himself had slipped on a pair of stockings and a suspender belt from Lady Janet’s clothes chest, a gesture he believed that didn’t harm his image of Lord of the Jungle since he possessed something like a boa-constrictor slumped over a bag of apples in his lap.

Ralph moved thoughtfully forward to hold the bulging under-hanging fruits in his hands. “How does that feel?”

“Mmmm! Better. Rather nice, and it doesn’t hurt at all. You sure have a healing touch, kid.”

“And if I roll ’em around like this?” asked Ralph as he lifted the heavy sack.

A simple caress initiated an immediate reaction. Lionel’s cock swelled rapidly to full erection, big and strong, with its underside marked by an artery as thick as a rope. “Ooooh, yeah! Zambezi-easy, that’s good.”

“Makes your dangle go thick and stand up,” remarked Ralph as his fingers explored the vastness of the man’s rammer, following the thick vein on its under surface all the way down to the root.

“Sure does, my little pipsqueak. It loves your thoughtful attention.”

“This kind of attention?” Ralph asked has he took a full handed grip and rolled the sheath of foreskin down over the bulbous, purple tip and gazed at the flaring pee-hole.

“Oooooh, wow, oooh, yeah! That’s rather lovely.”

“‘Spect you’d like me to kiss something better. You usually do.”

“Good idea. A fine idea.”

The tip of Ralph’s pink, wet tongue smoothed delicately around the slavering, plump summit of Lionel’s rearing cock before he gripped the base of it with his fingers and slid the top portion into his mouth.

Lionel groaned, but Ralph wasn’t finished. Drawing a lung full of breath through his nose he pushed his mouth down until the fat tip of the vast gland hit the back of his throat, then he slowly dragged his lips up again. Lifting his sweet mouth away he pressed the shiny, wet head of the man-cock against his sun-tanned cheek. “Was that okay?” he asked.

“Yeh, yeh. But concentrate more on the top end. That’s where the nice feelings hits me best.”

Ralph promptly put the lump of steaming, hard meat back into his mouth, and the Lord of the Jungle squirmed, revelling in lewd sensation as his cock sawed in and out. After a few moments he put his hands on the back of his companions head as the youngster’s lips began to increase their speed of movement.

“Yeow, wow!” He moaned wildly as his hips gave an almighty upward heave and his cock ejected several strong pulses of cream.

Ralph’s eyelashes fluttered and a whinny of surprise squeezed out from his throat.

At that moment the Commissioner of Police came bursting through the door. He was a tall, thin man with a grey moustache and usually he was calm and composed, but at that moment he looked extremely agitated. He gave a swift glance at Boy who was rising up and wiping a puddle of spilt sperm from his chin with the back of Beylikdüzü escort his hand.

“Sorry to intrude while people are still eating, Lionel, but we have a crisis. I’ve just heard that fifty Warimi tribesmen and a couple of white ner’do-wells are planning to cross the rope bridge at the chasm and plunder the incredibly old and mysterious Secret Sacred City of Antiquity on the other side. What shall we do?”

Lionel climbed from his recliner, stood straight, sucked in his abdomen and puffed out his chest. “Leave it to me commissioner. This is the kind of job a Lord of the Jungle does best. It’s what I’m here for.”

With a single energetic bound, and then a couple more, he leapt to the door.

“Shouldn’t you get properly dressed first?” the commissioner asked, observing the stockings and suspenders with a critical eye.

Lionel paused. “Huh! Oh sure. Is there a telephone cubicle around here?”

The commissioner frowned. “Isn’t getting changed in a telephone cubicle one of Superman’s gimmicks?”

“Yeh, so it is. He wears such lovely tight fitting suits too, I often get carried away thinking about ’em. I’ve always fancied being the Caped Crusader.”

Ralph sighed. “Batman is the Caped Crusader.”

The lad’s muscle-bound, naked mentor gave a snort of contempt. “Bah! Johnny-come-lately’s all of ’em. The Lord of the Jungle was the first and original super hero.” He then gave his prodigy a searing look. “No time to dress, lad, we’ve a Secret Sacred City of Antiquity to save.”

Appreciative of the display of female clothing being displayed the commissioner fondled a rising bulge in the front of his trousers and slyly winked at Lionel’s youthful partner. “You should call yourself Barbara or Joanna, Ralph. No need for you to go on the kind of dangerous jungle jaunt Lionel as in mind. There are plenty of things you could be doing around here. Hang around and I’ll help put your hair in bangs.”

Ralph gazed up at him with a look of mild reprimand. “I always see you on Tuesday evenings commissioner. Don’t go wreckin’ my schedule, I’ve just spent all afternoon carving it on a tree.” To the Lord of the Jungle he said. “We’ll have to walk Lionel? I can’t swing through the trees like you do.”

A rare light of cunning gleamed in Lionel’s eyes and he smirked. “To hell with walkin’ an’ swinging through trees. I’ve got a jeep parked down by the river, so we’re ridin’.”

Ralph was aghast. “But Lionel, you were found as a baby in the forest and raised by apes. You can swing through the trees like a monkey, but you can’t drive.”

The Lord of the Jungle smiled derisively. “Never let things like that get in the way of a good story, kid. Come on, let’s go.”

(Cut to stock film footage of vast herds of wildebeest careering over the African savannah – Annnd stop!)

As the jeep rumbled along the narrow jungle trail Lionel cursed as he missed a gear. “Darn it, I shoulda known better than put on Janet’s high-heel slingbacks. They’re crippling me.” He gazed over at his young partner with some concern. “Yer dick’s still stiff, kid”

The lad nodded. “That’s on account of me being stuck with a lousy lover who never finishes things off right.”

Lionel pursed his mouth. “I’ll snap the bastards neck for yer when we get back Ralph, but right now I don’t want you to sit so close. I’m pretty new to these newfangled jeep-thingies an’ your prick looks too much like the gear-stick.”

They’d only gone a mile before they had to pull up for a red light at a jungle crossing, and Lionel growled with annoyance. “Ain’t it allus the same? Every time you need to get somewhere fast the damn lights are against you.”

He wrapped his hand around Ralph’s cock, and while he was jerking it he watched a fat old mama carrying a bowl on her head waddling down the trial on the right. When she reached the junction she swung towards them.

“Mrs Mbelogo, don’t you ever indicate when you turn off the trail?” chaffed the Lord of the Jungle.

“Sorry boss, m’mind was on other things,” the woman replied. “Hey, yous two guys is dressed up sweet. You goin’ to a pardy?”

“What we’ve got aint no party, lady. We’ve got a date with danger.” declared Lionel loftily.

As she approached he sniffed suspiciously at the noxious aroma wafting down from the bowl on her head. “You been out collectin’ baboon shit fer carry-outs?”

The woman grinned, showing a set of tombstone teeth. “Nah, the baboon’s are all pooped out around here, but I found me a heap o’ rhinoceros dung today so I’s gonna try a new recipe – Rhino-crap dumplings, with Edgar rice.”

“Sounds – er – interestin’.”

“Top-notch grub.”

She stepped closer to get a better view of Lionel’s hand pumping Ralph’s cock. “Careful how you handle that thing, Lionel. Ralph may be young, but his lil’ carrier-bags hold enough whitewash to paint a ceiling.”

Her smile broadened as she gazed at the young man’s face. “Y’ll have to come over an’ see me agin soon, honey, I’m a’thinkin’ o’ redecoratin’.”

“Sure Mrs Mbelogo” Ralph panted, “I’ll come Escort Beylikdüzü an’ visit as long as you promise NOT to offer me supper.”

The lights flashed green to go, and forsaking all niceties Lionel shoved Ralph’s cock into first gear, put his foot on the accelerator and sped across into the trees. Then he had to gun the motor and struggle for several minutes to get the jeep back onto the road.

“Damn, damn, damn!” cursed the Lord of the Jungle.

“Hey, will you take it easy?” Ralph grimaced, “My dick don’t do reverse.”

(Cut to stock film footage of a lion pacing back and forth, snarling and roaring to a crescendo of tom-tom’s. Annnd stop. As usual it’s got nothing to do with the story).

When they arrived at the rope bridge over the chasm they were met by fifty fierce armed tribesmen led by two rough looking white men carrying hunting guns. On recognising Lionel the natives shrieked in terror, threw down their spears and ran off, but the two white men, one ugly and the other just plain sneaky looking, stayed to level their rifles. “Who the hella you, fellah?” asked the ugly one.

“I’m Lord of the Jungle, so be afraid,” Lionel’s voiced boomed loudly.

“Afraid!” Ugly looked at Sneaky, then back at Lionel. “Afraid o’ some nudey, pervy puddin’-head out on a joyride? No way. You may have frightened the natives with your freaky looks Lord of the Jungle, but you’ll have a tougher time scaring off a couple of hard-nosed bullets.”

Lionel glared. ‘Pervy pudding-head!’ His face contorted. Angry, affronted and indignant he sprang up to beat his fists on his chest. “Ooooooggg, yahooooooooo!”

“What’s all that racket for?” enquired Sneaky.

The Lord of the Jungle looked abashed. “Oh nuthin’. I just stood up too quick and banged my cock on the steering wheel.”

Carefully he clambered out from the jeep, then straightening up he marched gamely, fearlessly, stupidly towards the two dangerous desperado’s. “Now just listen here you fellahs, you could soon be in serious trouble unless you change your ways.”

Ugly grinned, showing a row of broken teeth. “Oh yeah! How d’yer reckon that?”

“I can tell by your appearance neither of you have washed or shaved for several days, and poor personal hygiene can quickly cause all kinds of health problems in an equatorial climate.”

“This guy’s a loony, let’s fill him with holes,” growled Ugly.

Sneaky smiled sneakily. Nah, let’s just lose his balls. Let’s take out one each.”

Lionel came hobbling to an uncomfortable halt in his ill-fitting high heels as a pair of gun muzzles panned down, and suddenly he wished he’d paused earlier to put on the khaki shorts Janet had given him to wear on Sundays.

Just as fingers were squeezing down on triggers, Ralph climbed out from the passenger side of the jeep and walked around to the front, and there he posed sideways on, hands on hips, one knee jutting slightly forward, young cock at full erection with its foreskin drawn all the way back to expose a dark pink tip.

Peering along his shoulder his lush eyelashes fanned up and down and he gave the two wastrel ner’do-wells a scintillating look with hooded eyes that was pure seduction. “Don’t ignore me, boys,” he piped cutely. “I may be young, but I’m hot for tough-guys who stink of sweat.”

The men’s trousers tented out magnificently as they gaped in astonishment, and a drivel of saliva ran down Ugly’s chin. While their attention was diverted Lionel was able to step forward and yank the guns from their hands, and then with an upward swing he brought the butt end of the weapons up to clack on the side of their heads.

When both Ugly and Sneaky had collapsed into a single untidy heap, Lionel turned to his young companion. “Thanks for the timely help, Boy Wonder. I’d have ended up a soprano forever but for you, and a squeaky voice would play havoc with my career as Lord of the Jungle.”

“I’m not Boy Wonder, Lionel,” his companion protested, “Boy Wonder is Batman’s sidekick, and his real name is Robin.”

The Lord of the Jungle sucked his teeth. “Damn it, I should have suspected something like that. Them quirky dudes in silly suits get all the best lines.”

At that moment the commissioner came panting along the jungle trail, busily filling his pipe with tobacco.

“You got here quick, commissioner.”

“Yeah, I thumbed a lift with a lorry load of ivory poachers. All okay guys – as long as you ain’t a elephant. Pretty generous with the old wacky-baccy too.”

He took a moment to put a match to his pipe as he studied the two unconscious men on the ground, then he puffed out a billow of blue smoke. “That’s thirty-six times you’ve saved the Secret Sacred City of Antiquity from being plundered this year, Lionel.”

The Lord of the Jungle gazed serenely across the deep chasm towards the mysterious Secret Sacred City of Antiquity on the other side. The colonnades and terraces along its primary avenues were now clogged with lichen and moss, while creepers and vines laced the ancient crumbling towers of its temples and palaces, the domes of which seemed to glow golden in the evening half-light. The city was a unique, timeless monument to an unknown race of people who had once lived, worked and died in central Africa during in an era yet to be defined by science.

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