Tarzan Jr. Makes His Bones
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2018 by harry lime

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - The escarpment is empty. Tarzan is dead and buried. His only daughter in a convent in England. A rumor of a bastard son in South Africa called Tarzan Jr. starts this story off with a bang.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Interracial   Black Male   Black Female   White Male   White Female   Anal Sex   Analingus   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Safe Sex   Squirting   Voyeurism   Teacher/Student   Nudism   Violence  

(Tarzan Jr. meets Sister Monique and Sister Heidimarie in Johannesburg)

The muscular Adam Smith aka Tarzan Jr. walked in front of Sister Monique and Sister Heidimarie up the spiral staircase to the rooftop hideaway along with “Jane” the dark-skinned nubile companion he had come to cherish like a pleasing bed-mate with no holds barred when it came to horizontal gymnastics.

The two nuns had very different thoughts as they walked behind the animal-like haunches of the stalking Tarzan Jr. pumping with the strength of a squad of men ready to do battle with any foe dense enough to confront him in a passage of arms and ultimate testing in the struggle of survival in a white man’s world away from the singleness of purpose out in a territory where predators roamed like champions in the game of life and death.

Tarzan Jr. knew that game well and he was best fighter in the best species in the jungle. His two legged approach to the kill was his signature and his piercing cry of victory struck fear in even the most aggressive of the jungle creatures.

Sister Monique was fully aware of her damp feminine folds running with her shameful excitement about the possibility of taking the jungle boy into her vaginal channel. In her mind, she saw him as a thief in the night with desires of stretching her and making her beg for more despite her much-regretted vows of chastity. She would be the first to admit that she had made them with the intent to keep her secret garden sanctified and off-limits to masculine touch, but that was before she had met Adam Smith and seen the bulk of his equipment coiled inside his trousers ready to be unfurled and flung up the flag pole of her quivering inner legs.

The two nuns with naughty needs of their own outside the strict vows of the cloistered order were wallowing in the freedom of movement in the depraved world around them. They maintained their phony face of sweetness and light and the fires of passion and lust burned brightly in their bellies. It was true that they had managed to keep their sinful interaction with the general public at a minimum because they were able to stoke each other’s carnal fires in the privacy of their nocturnal sleeping quarters.

Sister Monique was generally less satisfied with that solution than Sister Heidimarie because she had the greater yen for masculine arms around her and to experience the muscular control that would force her to take it all no matter how dirty or depraved. She was conflicted by her two masters, the angel that bade her do good no matter how unpleasant and demanding and the little evil devil that pushed her down lower and lower into the filth of devious human need for depravity of the worst kind imaginable. Even now, she could not tear her sinful eyes away from Tarzan Jr.’s oversized package and she resented the look of jealousy from the dirty creature he called “Jane” from some interior hell-hole that bred only submissive females with obedience as their primary asset in a life that used females like chattel on the selling block. Of course, she understood that this Jane person was dangerous because of the way she carried herself in a constant stalking mode ready to strike down any danger to her master, Tarzan Jr.

Sister Heidimarie had been sipping from a little silver flask all day long and by now she was almost stumbling up the stairs like some drunken sailor in a house of ill repute looking for some juicy sex in the afternoon. She was ready to jump onboard anyone with a yen for carnal action and she didn’t care if it was male, female or anything in between.

Jane recognized that fever of lust that commandeered every movement by Sister Heidimarie and she was fully prepared to sacrifice her body to assuage her needs even at the risk of losing her immortal soul. In fact, she was a bit curious about such an odd task because the instinct for heterosexual linkage was the ruler of her naughty urges. The thought of giving up her innermost secrets to the sinfully white blond was enough to set off her female juice production cycle and she knew that she would need a hard humping to drive the devils of lust and evil depravity from her system. Her strong hands reached out to cup the white nun’s robe covered posterior sitting like some vase of passion with her wishing to drink from the well of devil-inspired cupidity.

Sister Heidimarie was enflamed with lust for the dark-skinned beauty.

She had never sampled such a creature before and she was curious about the sensation of taking the girl between her legs and showing her the path to perdition. Heidimarie silently said a prayer of contrition for the sin she was about to commit knowing there was no way her weak free will would ever allow her to pass up the opportunity. She allowed the locally raised girl to remove all her clothing and take charge of her pale white flesh like some offering at a secret auction block immersed in the whirlpool of jungle fever. In a way, she treasured being the victim in the exchange because it made her more excited than she had ever felt before.

Sister Monique saw that her religious companion was otherwise engaged with the nubile African girl and seized the opportunity by faking a sudden faint right in front of Tarzan Jr.

The muscular jungle man lifted her up in his arms like some God of lust and passion and delivered her to the soft yielding folds of the white sheets recently washed, ironed and prepared by a bevy of bright-eyed darlings to each and every room of nocturnal carnal tableaus. He loosened her clothing and stripped her down to her French undies and her soft cotton breast gloves that allowed her nipples to extend like little signals of feminine heat rising.

 
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