The Biggest of Bongos 4

It was standing right in front of him, a shaggy mass of white fur loosely sorted into arms, legs, and slumped head. He felt its eyes on him. His balls clenched and pounded, still demanding release—there was no wilting his hard-on at this point, but he still tried to deny it. Thrusting his cock down inside his open fly, tugging his pants high, and reaching for the radio all at the same time—

“Knockout! Knockout!” he whispered urgently, before realizing he hadn’t fully pressed the transmit button down. He recentered his thumb on it. “Knockout, get over here! Sector 11! Get here now!”

He turned the radio off before she could reply. God knew what the creature would do if it heard his radio crackle.

Why the fuck hadn’t he brought the dartgun along? The rifle? Something? He was literally facing the Ta’moona with only his dick in his hands and much as he liked a good Tarzan story, Kon doubted his own chances of taking the big ape in a fistfight.

At last, a breathless interval later, he heard Knockout flying through the jungle. In her excitement, she called out ill-advisedly. “Did you get him? Did you get him? Kon—”

Kon, equally ill-advisedly, turned his back on the Ta’moona to shush her as she broke through the foliage. “Shut up!” he hissed as lowly as he could.

Knockout froze. She looked right at him, her eyes saucering out as big as he’d ever seen them. Her breasts, bouncing around like two pillows at a slumber party, jostled to a heaving, rhythmic stop while she caught her breath. Even under the circumstances, Kon was dumbstruck. His erection felt like a muscle that’d been exercised until it was as big as it could get without bursting. It painfully reminded him of its readiness.

“It’s huge…!” Knockout breathed, her jaw agape under wide eyes.

“I know,” Kon said. This was no scampering monkey they’d found. It made Bigfoot look like a WNBA player. “Huge. But I got it. Here you are, Knockout. All yours…”

He turned to gesture at Ta’moona and found nothing to gesture at. It was gone. Not so much as a wisp of white vapor to march its passage.

In his distraction, he didn’t notice his improperly belted pants coming undone, or gravity getting a grip on them. It didn’t strike him as a problem until his trousers had fallen around his ankles.

Knockout let out a small squeak. “So… that’s you… hard…”

Kon turned back around, sputtering, not sure what he should try to explain first. “It was right here, right here!”

Knockout took a step towards him. “Yes, Kon. Why not? Right here. It’s as good a place as any.” She reached for the solitary strand that held her vest together and broke it, then took a deep breath that shoved the halves entirely off her tits. “Yes. That’s better. That’s much better.”

“It is?”

She undid her bra and even as efficiently as she did it, Kon felt like he was watching a top-of-the-line stripper at work. There was just no way the unveiling of her breasts could not be an event. “Oh yes. Do you know how frustrating it is, to calculate every iota of data to perfection, then get out into the field and find no ape, night after night?”

“I… suppose?” Kon tried.

Knockout ripped up her shorts next. Her panties were delectably wet; like nothing more than a particularly thick layer of fog about her pubis. “I need some relief. And God knows you could flirt better, but you’re the only game in town. I’m giving you one shot at this, cowboy. Make me come and maybe there’ll only be one sleeping bag in this expedition’s future, eh?”

Fuck it, Kon thought. There was no arguing with so much woman in so little underwear.

He moved for her, forgetting the pants still around his ankles. He tripped. Thankfully, Knockout’s reflexes were good. She dove to catch him, stopping him from breaking his outthrust cock on the ground, but his weight bowled her over. They ended up on the ground, Knockout sprawled out and Kon on top of her.

It quickly registered that there was no need for foreplay. Or the past three weeks had been their foreplay. He entered her even as he kissed her, as he caressed her voluptuous body. There was no way to pace himself; no point in even trying. He wanted all of her, everything about her. Even as he savored the maddened passion that convulsed all around his member, he laved his tongue across her soft, smooth breasts. Finally moving it back up to her mouth, blank with astonishment at the feeling of being wrapped around him. He reawakened her lips with a kiss—Knockout returned it once she realized she could do more than take his ravening desire. Through her busy tongue, she moaned and purred, demanding more. But still Kon went gently. He didn’t want to lose himself, not so soon in the fuck. Soon enough, there’d be no holding back.

There was only the slightest whisper, the faintest tug at his senses to draw him out of the totality of his enjoyment. But his instincts wouldn’t be denied. While Knockout happily cooed and delighted in being the recipient of his ministrations, he looked away from her and saw the Ta’moona standing over them.

Kon could only watch, frozen, while Knockout continued in her pleasured writhing beneath him, grasping him tightly with all the silky softness at her core. “Please… please,” she keened, and his body took up the slack of his awestruck mind, rutting down into her with growing vigor until her whole body rippled with his thrusts.

All the while, the Ta’moona watched. Then it moved. The long, hairy arms reached up to its head and, before Kon’s disbelieving eyes, it simply ripped the body part free of its neck.

It was a testament to his all-encompassing desire for Knockout that he could still pound into her despite it all.

The Ta’moona set its head aside. There was a total absence of blood, of viscera. Disembodied, the head resembled more the business end of a polar bear rug. Next, the Ta’moona took one hand in the other and pulled its arm off like the whole thing was no more than a dishwashing love. In its place, a slim, strong arm… not so different from the ones Knockout had wrapped around his back.

“Harder, please, harder!” Knockout moaned, uncaring of his diverted interest, only knowing that her ecstasy was waning and more of his thrusts would bring it back. “Don’t disappoint me now!”

Kon grunted. As fascinating as the Ta’moona business was, it couldn’t compare to the challenge Knockout posed. He pulled at her legs, getting them up around his midsection, and then truly dove into her, making sure she took it all at a smooth, deep pace designed to leave a memory of him in every fold of her pussy. Knockout howled. All over, she quivered, her sweat warming his clothes. Kon pulled at everything he had on, wanting it out of the way. If the Ta’moona charged, they were both dead. Might as well go out with as big a smile as possible.

But a quick glance told him the Ta’moona… wasn’t the Ta’moona. Both its arms were off, discarded lengths of fur on the ground, and now the chest revealed itself to be a hollowed-out vest, coming up off a beautifully made body… long legs, slender hips, dancer muscles. Rich breasts and a patch of ebony curls between the legs to match the lengthy mane atop her head.

It was a girl. Polynesian from the looks of her, her tan skin lush all over, except where she still wore the fur like a pair of hairy leggings. Ta’moona: some sort of native girl. Perhaps a lost child that had grown up in the jungle and slowly adopted this persona as camouflage against an environment of predators that could otherwise outhunt her. And Kon had to admit, lookwise, she gave Knockout a run for her money.

And, as he watched, Ta’moona reached down to her pubic hair and began exploring the miniature jungle there.

As if on cue, Knockout crested, her whine showing how unprepared she was for the intensity of the feeling. Kon kept pumping, relentless, wanting to get out as much as he could before she could no longer take it. But Knockout seemed to want as much as he had to give. She hurled from orgasm to orgasm, her mind completely swept away by the onslaught of pleasure. Kon wasn’t far behind. Her pubic convulsions were an ongoing assault on his stamina. And with the new girl watching, he was more aroused than ever. It took all his willpower to hold back, but the thought that he was performing for this untouched jungle virgin fortified him. From time to time, he ripped his attention off Knockout’s orgiastic fits and looked to the girl. Her breasts, swollen and stiffened, bobbed as she panted longingly.