MY AFRICAN TOUR
The Lion Sleeps Tonight
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
As the tourist lorry lurched and jumped over the rocky parched ground below us, the sun was hitting my head and neck with a fury that blasted my skin and sucked every ounce of moisture out of it, I felt my face crackle and the sweat sizzle to nothingness as it burst out in a vain attempt to cool me. On my bare skin, that is, the rest of my body sweated and had drenched my clothes utterly. I was hot, I was dusty, I felt dirty, filthy and utterly pissed off.
I was en route to the heart of the Serengeti plain, there to witness, up close and for real, a pride of lions. I would therefore spend a week inside a wire-mesh enclosure where I could observe them and be totally safe at the same time. It was promised I'd be able to see and hear the lions up close, close enough to almost touch them, a closeness that is usually reserved for gamekeepers and lion tamers. So why was I so pissed off right now? And it wasn't the heat, honest!
Maybe it had something to do with all the others with me on this trip. That's right, I said others! I was supposed to get a private guide and a private tour all the way on this trip, and those bastards at the tour agency had reneged on a contract and the best they could do for me was to dump me in with a bunch of teenaged schoolgirls under the watchful eye of three old biddies; who all came from the same private girl's school somewhere in Connecticut. Bunch of spoiled rich girls from New York City, mostly.
That wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the singing. Not one of these girls had any musical talent that I could spot, but they were belting out, at the absolutely screeching top of their lungs:
"In the jungle, the mighty jungle,
The lion sleeps tonight!
Oh, in the jungle, the mighty jungle,
The lion sleeps tonight!
Oh, weeeee-eeee-eee-ah, we-ah, weem-a-way!"
And if this wasn't bad enough, they were doing this to coordinated hand gestures, all bouncing their butts up and down on the seat to the tempo, rolling their hands over and over each other, all doing a thumb-point to the right at the same time, and doing all sorts of other visual shit like that. They looked like they were having a hell of a lot of fun on this trip and I supposed singing like that and doing like that would be fun to a bunch of fifteen-year-old school-girls out and about on a carefully chaperoned adventure. The only problem was, I was the poor guy who had to sit there and listen to it! Stuff like that isn't nearly as much fun to watch as it is to do it!
Like I said, no musical talent in any of these girls. The old biddies weren't singing, but they were staring at me like I was about to take down and rape every one of these scrawny, screeching, bone-ugly girls at the same time. The look on their face was that they had tried sex once, a long, long time ago, and they didn't like it and hadn't tried it since.
"All right, all of you pipe down and keep quiet from here on out! You want to see lions, you can't go caterwauling like that. You'll have to be mum's the word, got me!" This was bellowed out far louder than the combined girl's voices singing. It was our tour guide and the only other man on the trip (not counting the driver, who was down inside the truck; we were sort of on a raised platform above and behind him). This tour guide was Colonel Strickland, and you could tell he'd been the bane of many a poor young man's life in basic training.
"And you!" He was talking to me, now. "Look lively, lad. Going to see the simba up close, you will. This will be a trip you'll never forget."
"Even if I want to?" I muttered. I guess I was louder than I'd intended to be with that remark. The girls tittered.
"Now, that's not the spirit. Where's your sense of adventure, mate?" This was his idea of coaxing, bellowing that out at the top of his lungs, with a scowl on his face that dared you to say anything but you were having a wonderful time.
I could have shoved his jolly-up-damn-it attitude back at him, but I'd been raised better than that, damn it! All I could do was mutter, "I was supposed to be traveling by helicopter. And with a private guide. My father paid for it, you know."
"I know, mate, and that's the breaks. Make the most of it and don't be a sad sack, me bucko." Colonel Strickland looked around, "Now, if you'll look to the right, you can just make out a small herd of giraffe at that clump of trees out there. Lad, I said to the right! To the right!"
So I gave up and looked right. He was going to keep on yelling until I did; he seemed to function on the principle that anybody can be persuaded to do anything if you'll just shout loud enough. I don't know if I can say just why this voice of his put me over the top and down into a funk. How can I describe that grating, loud voice of his, the high-pitched squealing sounds from the girls, the three silent vulture-bait women glaring at me, all of this and the hot sun as well?
All I can say is that these sounds were turning the exotic charm of a safari trip into the nightmare of boot camp. Look right! Now left! Five minutes to stretch your legs, but don't go more than twenty paces from the lorry. That was twenty, not twenty-five, I said twenty!" Like that, over and over again, with infinite but insignificant variations, for the entire, long, yellow, hot afternoon.
I was glad to finally get to the campsite. We arrived in the horribly-hot heat of mid-afternoon, just in time to see a hell of a lot of weird-looking animals beating hooves for the horizon as we pulled up. Some silent tour group we were, the girls were screaming and giggling and pointing. They thought that the rhino leaving was funny, lumbering off like he was, his belly swaying back and forth visibly with each movement of his stocky legs and that ridiculously small tail switching like crazy. I guess it was funny, hah, hah.
"Okay, get out and get settled into the campsite." Colonel Strict (my personal nickname for him) was shouting. "We want to get all our gear stowed away and then be quiet as church mice so the animals will come back. This special net surrounding the camp both nullifies our scent and obscures the view of our bodies to the animals, but nothing muffles your sound better than keeping your yap shut. So if you want to see anything, you have to keep mum's the word the entire day and night. One shriek at the wrong minute and it takes hours to get the animals to come back again. So get stowed and settle in."
I looked about, there were two large tents and a lot of smaller ones. These two large tents were the kind you could stand up in and walk around, maybe fifteen feet on a side, the smaller tents were Scout-type pup tents. The girls were shown to these smaller tents, the women were taken to one of the larger ones, and I looked at Colonel Strict, who had chosen to leave me until last.
"Where do I bunk?" I asked him.
He pointed at the second big tent. "In with me, that's where. You and me are bunk-buddies." And he grinned like that was a joke.
Now, as you can tell, I'm not that fussy about my sex partners, but there was no way I was sleeping with this guy. I mean, it'd be like fucking a megaphone attached to a hippopotamus. Nothing about this guy turned me on, and I mean nothing, as in I wanted to get away from him.
"All right, Uncle William, I've got the sets hooked up." I turned around and...hey! This was more like it!
"Thanks, Timmy. Give the first and best set to our star guest here. He gets first-class accommodations all the way, this trip."
"Yes, sir." Timmy came up and handed me the set. Timmy was about my age, and my build, but he boasted a shock of wavy, sandy hair that curled about his head and blew seductively in the few vagrant breezes that we got here. He was thin but well-built, and his smile at me was shy and enticing. "Here you are, sir."
"Thank you." I said, reaching for the set and brushing the back of his hand with my fingertips as I did so, deliberately, enough that, if he was alert, he'd know I did it on purpose.
He didn't react, just said, "These are whisper-mikes. This set is how we'll communicate during your stay here. Just select your band and whisper into the mike and the person you select will hear you. The left earphone is set to band number one, that's for emergencies only. Be careful not to select it by accident. We leave bands 2 through 10 empty and unused for that reason. Uncle...Mr. Strickland is number 11, I'm number 12, and I'm giving you number 13. Your lucky number, I hope?"
"No never mind to me." I said. "Easy to remember, anyway."
"Just remember to whisper with the set turned on. You talk normal and it'll deafen whoever you're talking to. You select the band, and it will broadcast to the person's right earphone with that frequency. So you can talk to anyone here anywhere in the camp with a whisper. It's a little tricky learning to communicate at first. Just remember that while any number of people can talk to you, only one person at a time can hear you speak on any one frequency, except for band number 1. And you don't use that unless something really horrible is happening. Uncle and I have sets that lets us talk to everyone at once, so we'll be acting as tour guides and talking to everyone." His selector was the size of a cigar-box, and had a lot of buttons on it.
"Hmm." I worked the selector button, a knob that clicked and a small display that gave the frequency number in LCD manner, small black lines on a light gray background. "Clogs up the airwaves, doesn't it, all these frequencies?" I tested it, found the set went up to 50 for the numbers of bands the selector had on it. This selector was on a little box the size of a pack of cigarettes, that I could clip to my shirt pocket and take off to manipulate.
"These sets are narrow-band and work for line-of-sight only." he assured me. "Range is less than five kilometers. Someone with a bigger set could contact you with it from further away, but you couldn't answer back so why bother?"
"No way to call for help from more than five kilometers away?" I asked, looking at it.
"Why should you need that?" He answered reasonably. "You won't be leaving this enclosure unless you're an idiot with a death-wish. We set out regular food stocks nearby to keep the lions and the other animals hanging around this waterhole. The lions are all well-fed, but you never know when one may decide to have you for desert."
I have to admit, when those sets were handed out, the entire place quieted right down. The girls got to whisper to each other all they wanted with complete privacy, so they were happy as clams, jabbering about each other non-stop from the way they pointed and giggled. Me, I figured out how to turn off the microphone entirely; I didn't have anything to say to anyone. And after things were quiet for about an hour, and as we all got used to the handsets and were looking around to a whispered commentary by the usually-loudmouthed Colonel Strict, the animals began to return.
The girls managed to keep it down, I have to admit, just some muffled "oohs" and "aahs" were all I heard, though I bet a lot of chatter was going on outside my range. I looked at Colonel's raucous whisper (he shouted even in whispering!) to the west and saw a small herd of zebras coming in to water. Further away (he was spotting these things, not me, I just looked where told) near the horizon, a few elephants were zeroing in on this scarce water source.
Colonel Strict started in on his spiel. "The zebra, is a relative of the horse and greatly resembling the wild ass in habit and form, having a short, erect mane, large ears, and a tufted tail. The zebra's stripes, serve as protective coloration in its natural habitat."
Timmy's voice cut in. "The zebra is the banker of the animal world."
"Huh?" I said out loud, startled.
I got shushed by the old ladies who were standing nearby.
"The zebra is known to loan out anything it has. The animal is in fact supposed to be white, but has been loaning out its colors for so long and taking back black in interest payments, it has formed the rather bizarre looking animal you see here."
I snickered. Okay, so it wasn't high humor, or even making much sense, it was better than the encyclopedia I was getting from Colonel Strict.
"Throughout history, people have prized elephants for their great size and strength. On the battlefield, soldiers astride elephants have trampled and terrified enemies. Elephants also have been trained to carry heavy supplies through jungles and to haul huge logs from the forests where they once lived." Colonel Strict droned on.
"The elephant is the bully of the plains." Timmy droned on in imitation of his uncle. "They will push themselves onto the other animals, shoving them aside. Their favorite tactic is to force the gazelles to give them blow-jobs while their mates watch."
I snickered again, looked about. Timmy was nowhere around. I got up and began to search. The campsite wasn't large.
"And to your right you'll see a small herd of wildebeests, also known as gnus." Colonel Strict said.
"The wildebeest got its name from the wild orgies they throw on Friday nights around the waterhole." Timmy said.
"Is that so?" I asked him softly. I had found him, he was on the other side of the campsite, where the kitchen was kept, stirring up a big pot of something.
He turned around, looked at me and grinned. "Oh, yes, the wildebeest enjoys forming tremendously long daisy-chains. Nature-lovers from all over the world congregate to watch them, and sometimes they join in. I have some pictures if you're interested."
I had turned on my microphone and set it to his band. "Only if they're all-male orgies." I said.
He looked at me, and said, "Oh, absolutely. The women wildebeests are all quite frigid, you know."
"There you are." Colonel Strict said to me. I turned around, startled, but he had only spoken to me. Timmy followed my sight and blanched, turned back to his cooking.
"Come back to the group, lad, you're missing the sights. It'll be dark soon, you know."
I looked helplessly at Timmy, who stared after me, and I saw one hand rub his crotch as he stared after me. I waved at him and went back to the water-hole show.
Colonel Strict kept me right beside him the rest of that day. I don't know (I don't think) he had heard what Timmy was saying to me, but he was the sort who had to keep his eye on you. So I got the entire show, along with Timmy's interjected commentaries, and if you think what he was saying was wild before, you should have heard him after our little exchange. His imagination was vivid and complicated, he described the best way for a cheetah to fuck a rhinoceros for example. I'd tell you now, but it's not important and funny mostly in context; Timmy had a view from where he was and he was weaving in how the animals approached each other into his storyline. All I have to say is that I got and kept a tremendous erection the rest of that day.
But we were allowed no chance to be alone. Colonel Strict had taken my one time of wandering off from the crowd, or maybe he wanted to give me "the star treatment," I only know he was like glue, talking to me non-stop about the plains and the animals. Fortunately he was the sort who didn't expect a response from you, just an ear for him to bend and he could and did go for hours.
After dinner, I went into the tent, and he followed me in there, as well. Two cots, I was hoping Timmy would join us, the tent was plenty big enough for more than two cots. But it was hopeless, I gave up and got in bed. Colonel Strict left the light (an electric light that ran off a battery) going inside the tent, which surprised me, the bright light made it hard to get to sleep, but he got into his bed and was snoring in no time.
I was debating getting up and sneaking away in hopes of finding Timmy (but which of those tents were his, and which were those stupid girls probably all still up and talking and they'd never give us any privacy out there), when the tent opened softly, the zipper going wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-wh! All the way around from bottom left to bottom right, to upper right and then to upper left, leaving it a door on hinges.
Timmy stepped in, looked at me and put a finger to his lips--shhh!
I nodded and he came over. His body was golden in the too-bright light, his form let a gray shadow fall over my bed as he approached me, his hands and arms held forward, crouched slightly, like he was going to catch me if I tried to escape.
"Your uncle's in the next bed." I pointed out when I could hiss this in his ear.
"I know." he said. "I usually sleep in here with him. Don't worry, it takes a lot to wake him up."
Timmy sat next to me on the bed, his slender body a graceful curve, his hair catching an oval of light to form a near-halo about his head, and this angelic countenance approached me, and his hands went around me and then he was pressing his chest against mine, his lips sought mine out and he kissed me fervently, his body scooted up to join mine on the cot, and I could feel him as a long, warm form atop my own.
Excited? I was scared! Was this guy kidding? His uncle was about five feet away--less!--and he was putting the moves on me?
When he released me, I whispered urgently, "For God's sake, Timmy, what are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" He looked at me astonished, and then grinned a cocky grin. "I'm going to show you what the baboon does to the leopard, me bucko."
The baboon and the leopard. Oh, geez, he'd mentioned that in his long sexual diatribe this afternoon, but which one was it? I was embroiled in that thought I didn't notice until too late he'd grabbed my blanket and peeled it away, to leave me only wearing a pair of boxers. Then I remembered, "You plan to fuck me? Here, now?"
"That's right." he said. "Just remember like the headsets, don't do anything but whisper. The lion," his eyes pointed me at his uncle who was rumbling in his sleep, "sleeps tonight."
"You've got to be kidding! But...he'll wake up!"
"He never has before." Timmy said as he grabbed my boxers and hauled them down my legs, leaving me naked on the white sheet. "As long as he's making that noise, we're as safe from him as we are from those lions outside. It's when he shuts up that you have to watch out."
I watched as he hauled his fly open and tugged out his cock, a pink slender scimitar of upwardly curving flesh, tipped with a redder head that craned upwards, looking like the prow of a ship, a triangular-shaped head with a slit at the tip. I looked at that cock and I threw my own boner. Hell, I didn't mind him wanting to fuck me! Just...here? Now?
Timmy pulled a tube of something from his shorts pocket and squirted it into his palm, then began to rub the ointment onto his cock. I still just lay there, afraid to move. God, if this ex-Army officer woke up and caught me about to do the mattress bounce with his nephew....
Colonel Strict gave a series of rasps, hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk, like a pig rooting in the dirt and he turned in bed--away from us. Even on his side, he snored.
And Timmy was lifting my legs up. "Ready for a little baboon bump, you beautiful white leopard?" He grabbed my cock and pumped it. "But that's a dumb question." He said as he guided his prong up to my asshole. "Just remember...don't make any noise."
"The lion sleeps tonight." I agreed. "Just push it in slowly."
That hot, delicious cockhead slipped into my anus and I gave a choked gasp. God, this cock felt good! A rich, purple plum of desire that now nestled inside of me. I didn't ever want him to pull it out. "Oh, yeah!" I breathed.
He grinned. "Ready for more?"
"Oh, yeah!" I sighed again.
He pushed at his cock and it buckled, he caught his shaft and held it sturdy, pressed into my anus. His other hand continued to cling to my ankle, holding my leg up like a tent-pole, then he let it drop onto his shoulder as he scooted in closer to me.
When he finished, he thrust his hips forward and I felt that shaft plunge into me deeper. "Oh, God!" I gasped out. "Oh, oh!"
"That's half of it, laddy." he mimicked his uncle. "Get used to that and I'll push it on in."
I couldn't help but look over at Colonel Strict's broad back and head of hair, all I could see of him in this position. That and his rasping grumbles that DID sound like a lion.
And Timmy pushed the rest of the way into me. God, I felt full, full! I had this proud, turgid white African prong in my ass, and it was filling me completely. "Ah, ahhh!" I groaned softly.
"Shh!" he pressed his fingers to his lips. "We don't want Uncle to interrupt us now, now do we?"
"No, oh, no!" I heaved.
"If he was to wake up, I couldn't do this." He said as he gave a rapid set of thrusts into bowels. "You wouldn't like that, now would you, me not able to do this?" and he gave with the rapid thrusts again.
"I'd hate it if you stopped." I said. "Do it some more."
"I'd rather do this." He said and he pulled his cock out, held it that way with just the head in my ass, then plunged it back in roughly.
"Uh-guh!" was my only response.
He pulled back out, again that long pause, with my ass feeling so empty, abandoned, and then he shoved it back in.
"Uh, uh-hnk!" I groaned.
"Oh, you like that, too?" he coaxed me.
"Yeah." I sighed.
"Then how about this?" he said and he began a slow rhythmic movement of his hips. His cock went only about halfway out of me before he plunged it back in, but it was all smooth and uninterrupted, like the wafts of waves on the shore that reach up, withdraw and surge back over the darkly-rich sand glistening with salt. It wasn't in-out-in, it was in-and-out-and-in-and-out, a slow, steady wash of pleasure that rippled through my body. I reached up for him and he chuckled as I grabbed his still-dressed form and pulled him on top of me and wrapped my legs around him. "My little leopard is getting impatient."
"You're damned right I am." I said huskily. "I'm taking charge of this little game between the species." And I ground my butt against him, fucking myself on his cock, and he let me, found my tempo and matched it expertly, his hips even then denied me the right to expect their movements, he would make a few hunches into me, then reach up and shift his buttocks to the left and pump into me from that position, then weave over to the right and pump me some more, that long dong of his surging against my prostate with each hunch; I had identified just why it was that he was turning me on so much, that upward-aiming cockhead of his was bumping my prostate gland every single time.
"Oh, damn, Timmy, you're such a good fucker." I said to him.
His eyes had glazed over, he was lost in his sensations, but it percolated in and he grinned about five seconds later and said, "Thanks, mate, your ass is inspiring me."
"Good to hear that." I said. "Come on, let's speed up this little animal orgy. I've been clutching my nuts for the past three hours, the way you talked this afternoon."
"Ready for this trotter to break into a gallop, eh?" he urged me.
"A full gallop, yeah, you'd better believe it." I said. "If the gallops matches the canter, I'll buy the fucking horse from you and damn the cost!"
He chuckled, but he began to fuck me in earnest then. A certain amount of his finesse was lost at the higher speeds, he was beginning now to get lost in his own passion which always steals a man's brain, but it didn't matter, I had a steady rub at my prostate now, and I was clutching his back, holding that khaki cloth with both handfuls, and was bumping and rutting back at him. His breath was blasting my face in his position, his face filled my view, a shadowed ruddy face that looked right into my eyes, watching my response to his plunges into my bowels, those eyes begging me to urge him on more.
"Yeah, Timmy, yeah, like that, come on, fuck me, man, harder, harder!" I said.
He laid a finger on my lips. "Sshh, you damned fool, Uncle will wake up." he said to me.
I ignored his entreaties, the entire camp could watch now for all I cared, I had him trapped in my ass and I was riding him. I reached up and caught his finger, sucked on it blissfully and he let me for a time.
"Yeah, going to milk you out." I said when he released my lips by pulling his finger away from my clutching lips. "You're going to be left with dry balls, ever feel your balls totally empty and just hanging there limp and your cockhead's sore and you couldn't get a hard-on to save your life?" I was mimicking him in his sordid lives of the animals tales, and he groaned, and his cock heated up in my bowels. He was fucking me full-tilt now, the cot was beginning to squeak so slightly in protest at the wiggling we were doing, and I pumped my prick, feeling the tingles of pre-orgasm dancing up my belly and over my chest to dive back into me at the throat. Timmy's cock was a power-tool inside of me, he was drilling me hard and his drill-bit cock was heating up from all the friction, I saw his face flush, felt his cock grow hard as a rock and I pounded my cock furiously, and as he began to gurgle and squelch his groans, as I saw his face blush bright red and his body spasm and twitch in my grasp, I hit my own climax and exploded against his body, against his clothes, spraying him liberally as well as myself.
His sperm boiled into me, a river of jism that carved a new bed for itself inside of me, and I was like a geyser spurting with abandon into the air, not caring where the bursts of hot fountain water landed so long as it was away from me!
Timmy finished and fell down onto me, his chest heaving his body upwards against my own rising chest, his mouth against my ear, his gasps for breath loud roars in my ears while I pounded his neck with my own symphony of post-coital panting.
"Man, you were good." I said when I caught my breath.
He grinned at me. "Takes a good partner to make a good team. We're good together, mate."
"You'd better believe it." I said. "Where are you sleeping tonight?"
"Got one of the tents." he said.
"Wish you could stay here." I said as he got up and tucked his cock back into his pants. His shirt was splattered with my jizz, big wet spots; I felt ashamed and proud at the same time the way I'd soiled his shirt with my come.
"I do, too." he said. "But I'd better go and let you get some sleep. Don't worry, mate, we'll make other times. You're here for five days, you know." He left, and rezipped up the tent.
"I know." I said feelingly. God, a half-hour of Timmy wasn't compensation enough for sixteen hours of Colonel Strict.
I got up and was rearranging the blanket on my bed so I could get back into it, when I heard the tent-zipper again! I reached over and helped unzip it--those things work best when someone's working it from both sides, you know--and opened the door. Timmy was there.
"What?" I asked him.
"You have to see this." He hissed. "Get your pants on and hurry!"
I stepped into my khaki pants and padded out bare-footed to see what he was talking about.
"Smell that?" He said, sniffing the air.
I sniffed. It was a powerful aroma. Thick, meaty, strong, dominating, but thoroughly alien in composition. "Yeah, what is it?" I asked.
"Keep quiet and come with me." he gestured.
I followed him to the side of the tent. Looked out through the camoflauge netting that obscured things badly enough by day, but at night, made it nearly impossible to see.
I was so close, I didn't realize it at first, looking through the net. Right on the other side was a male lion, with full mane. Around him... "A pride?" I asked.
Timmy shook his head. "A coalition. All male lions. See?"
I looked about, shrugged. Most of them were young enough to have little or no mane, but I wasn't going to argue. "Is that what I smell?"
"Yeah." Timmy said. "That's the smell of male lions marking their territory."
The lions stirred and we hurriedly withdrew. That netting was strong, but if a lion really wanted to bring it down or climb over it, he could, I knew.
From a safer distance, I watched the lions settle back down. "Wow." I said. "Shall we wake the girls and let them see?"
Timmy smiled. "No. Let them sleep. The lions sleep tonight, all of them."
"And the lionesses." I agreed.
And there on the peacefully sleeping plains, surrounded by the slumbering kings of the jungle, Timmy and I embraced and kissed, watched only by the gently smiling Moon.
THE END OF PART FOUR