Chapter 6

The muscular lord of the estate had the Irish girl with the shocking red hair down on her knees in front of him sucking his dick with enthusiasm that could not possibly be fake or insincere.

“Oh, my lord, you are so big for poor little Bridget.”

The Irish girl was literally drooling from her pretty pink lips as she licked his shaft with expert loving care. Tarzan Jr. was much impressed with her skilled technique.

This untamed girl with the flaming red hair was far more capable with her mouth than most of his Nubian females with their lack of graceful swallowing of his creamy loads.

The powerful young white African speculated on her other feminine assets wondering what treasures she had hidden between her long, slender legs.

As if guessing his thoughts, the girl shed her clothing below the waist and bent over to let him view her blinking pucker and her long vaginal slit covered with the same shocking red hair on the top of her head. It was Tarzan Jr.’s turn to drool already sensing the taste of Irish pussy on his taste buds.

She smiled at him over her shoulder teasing him with her unspoken promise of delights to come.

“I see the young master is big for his Bridget down there. My da has the biggest cock I have ever seen until you showed me your lovely member. You may use either entrance or both if you desire. I assure you I can take it all the way up even thought I might shout a wee bit at your taking.”

Tarzan needed no further invitation.

He quickly mounted the Irish beauty and rammed his dick firmly into her anal passageway with no hesitation at all. The poor girl’s pitiful defense of a fearful sphincter was shattered by his powerful thrusts deep into her pristine gut. Soon, Bridget’s beautiful face in the closet mirror was contorted by her conflicting emotions of pain and pleasure. She let her tongue hand out of her open saliva dripping mouth, and she took the African Prince’s dick into her lust driven backside like a street whore turning a long delayed trick after a period of abstention.

He bottomed out inside her several times. Each episode triggered her convulsive orgasm that resulted in her sweat to drench the sheets and her juices ran down the insides of her lovely legs like a waterfall of creamy goodness.

Tarzan clutched her suddenly slippery body with desperate need to release his seeds in a fury of heated man juice spurted forever and forever inside her trembling rear passage.

He felt a sudden urge to shout out his jungle war cry of victory but restrained from doing so because after all it was the middle of the night and most of the castle was sound asleep dreaming their personal dreams of humans the world over regardless of the color of their skin or the deviousness resting in their hidden thoughts.

Tarzan heard a stirring in the hallway with his jungle trained sharp ears.

He rose naked from the bed briefly viewing the Irish girl’s magnificent bottom sticking up at an impossible angle with promises of pleasure within.

The jungle lord slowly opened the door with utmost care hoping to catch the intruder in the act of spying. Strangely, he was down on all fours like the mountain gorillas on the escarpment in that faraway place in the depths of natural beauty. He scanned the dark corners and his nostrils constantly cast about doing their best to pick up the scent of the strange noise that had aroused his survival instincts.

He had no weapon, but he generally relied on his brute force in such matters and his muscles rippled with intense concentration as he silently padded down the darkened hallway.

Tarzan paused as he entered into the west wing.

It was the part of the estate that housed the numerous servants and visitors to his country estate. A huddled figure was crouching down in the far alcove next to the rounded turret window that looked out into the courtyard below.

He crept closer and saw that the creature was human probably of the female gender although it was difficult to tell in these days when girls wore their hair short and men wore their hair long.

The prince of the jungle sniffed the air and caught the distinct spoor of feminine juices emanating from the huddled mass wrapped in a red blanket or tablecloth from the kitchen.

Quickly, he dropped down on the thing and wrapped his strong arms around her middle torso. The young girl squealed like a mouse caught in a trap. After cleared consideration, he decided it was more like a little piglet discovered doing something naughty.

He pulled the red material down from her head and did not recognize the young girl as a servant or recently arrived guest.

“Speak up, girl, what are you doing in my house in the middle of the night?”

His sturdy arms felt the swelling bosom of the nubile woman and he felt her long lovely legs trembling in confusion at her easy capture.

“A thousand pardons, my lord, I left my room to go to the privy and got lost on the way back. I am the daughter of Jack the blacksmith called for duty in tending to the horse’s shoeing just yesterday by your stable manager. He was kind enough to put us up in the servant’s quarters rather than bedding down in the barn with the stableboys. My father insisted I come with him because his brother, Mister Thornton has a history of fondling and cuddling me in his absence. I am sinfully quite submissive to male advances and my father seeks to spare my virginity until he can marry me off to some lad with a strong back.”