Tarzan, The Man update

Jane felt Tarzan’s hands roam over her back and down to her ass. She yielded to him completely, though she felt a spark of impropriety that she could not help but giggle at. What could be more proper than enjoying her husband’s caress? Then her laugh became a moan as his hands slid between their bodies and cupped her breasts fully. Tarzan moved the straps of her slip down her arms and Jane felt a swell of modesty come over. She sat up.

“Oh, you mustn’t!” she gasped, flinging one arm over her exposed breasts, using the other to try and replace her falling shoulder straps.

“Why cover them, Jane? I like looking at them. By God, they’re beauties.”

Jane laughed again. “Silly of me… I’ve been tempted by you so long, it’s hard to remember I can give into temptation—freely—without resistance…”

“A little resistance might make it interesting,” Tarzan said darkly.

Jane felt faint. He had a way of making this natural, blessed union seem sinful—a temptation so irresistible that she could not believe it was right to give in, even when the ring on her finger screamed that it was so.

Tarzan took the hand she had covering her breasts. He lifted her arm gently away from her body, pressed her down to her back. Jane’s breathing hitched again and again, seeing the expression on his face, his flushed cheeks, the feverish burn of his scar. It should’ve been frightening, a visage belonging to a pagan idol, but the way his eyes moved over her face and lips and throat felt like a warm caress. She writhed under his gaze as though he was touching her, kissing her.

“No one’s ever looked at me like you have, Tarzan,” she whispered, lifting her arms over her head, splaying the slender length of her half-naked body before him.

“I find that hard to believe,” he replied.

He reached for her slowly—fingertips tracing the outlines of her cleavage. She moaned into his touch, feeling her nipples harden as if to give him something to properly touch.

“I’ve had men look at me like they want me before, but not—not like I want to be theirs. And I’ve certainly never been kissed like that. It’s different when… so different… when I know the kiss is the start of something, not just ‘goodnight’.”

“It will be a good night,” Tarzan promised. “And a good morning… a good day…”

His handsome face dipped down, mouth opening, and then his lips were soft, wet pressure around her nipple. Jane gasped—it was as if her throbbing, stiffening nipple had finally been completed, given the answer that its hardness had been asking.

His tongue scoured the swelling of her breast; Jane panted harshly trying to withstand the sensation. Her spine arched deeply, thrusting her nipple deeper into his mouth. Encouraged by this, Tarzan cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing his fingers deep into it. More of her breast was forced into his greedy mouth. Jane felt as though he were eating her alive. Her hands flew into his long hair, first pulling at it, trying to get him to surrender her breast—then curling in his long dark locks to pull him closer to her.

“Ohhh, God! My God!” Jane keened, her eyes closing against the fire which seemed so much brighter now, its heat ravaging her body.

She heard the wood snarling and popping in the flames, the hiss of the fire coming to her through the storm of sensation from Tarzan’s lips pulling and tugging at her nipple. She thought her breast would catch fire in his mouth, the way it was throbbing everywhere he touched it.

“I’m going to take you now, Jane,” he husked, twisting her over onto her belly, pulling her hips up into the air so that Jane had to extend her arms underneath her to keep from being sprawled in a pile. “You’re going to be mine now, Jane.”

His hands ran up the sides of her smooth legs, seeking out her drawers. He peeled her drawers down her body, fingers working against the smooth skin of her ass to expose her svelte buttocks to the open air. A blush of heat hit Jane’s bare skin, but going far deeper than the heat from the flickering flames could possibly reach.

Suddenly, Jane was regretful that she’d resisted so having him take off her slip. Now, with it hanging halfway off her chest and her drawers down around her knees, she seemed more scandalously exposed than if she were simply in a state of nature.

“What are you doing, Tarzan?” Jane stammered out. “Why have you placed me this way?”

“This is how animals are in rut. I’ve seen it. Whatever the union of our hearts, the mechanics of our bodies belong to nature.”

Jane pinched her lips together. She was fearful of contradicting Tarzan, not because he was her husband, but for fear of giving away her own meager, guilty knowledge of coitus. She had heard her share of storytelling on the matter, without partaking herself, and she knew there was a more proper positioning for them. But was that something a newlywed virgin should know? Perhaps she should simply let Tarzan figure it out—he was a quick study in all other matters…

Of course, Tarzan wasn’t stopping to muse. He was a man of action and his only consideration now was pulling her drawers from the flare of her perky ass. Jane obligingly lifted her knees, then her feet, allowing him to get off her silken underwear. She heard Tarzan inhale deeply—he wasn’t smelling them, was he? Jane looked back over her shoulder. Tarzan had tossed the drawers aside; she got the inescapable feeling that his flaring nostrils were directed at her.

“You smell good,” Tarzan told her.

Jane sputtered. “It’s a… a new perfume…”

He shook his head curtly. “No. It isn’t.”

His hands moved over the smooth contours of her hips and buttocks, as though he were feeling out the sweeping curves of one of those marvelously sculpted automobiles. Jane had never considered herself as on par with one of those testaments to man’s inventiveness, but Tarzan was feeling her as though she were as lissome to the touch as any statue.

Jane knew real carnality for the first time. Every kiss before, every caress, every pleasant dream had only vaguely hinted at this reality. To actually know a man was about to possess her—that she now belonged to someone, her very senses giving homage to him—was a feeling that could not be put into words. Ecstasy warred with fright in her mind.

Odd things were happening inside her now—tremors she had never felt before, not even in the most passionate of Tarzan’s kisses. This was deeper, more personal, more intimate—almost too much, really. Her upbringing rebelled at it. It was scandal and infamy and shame… otherwise, she should be able to resist it.

“Stop, stop!” she cried.

Tarzan drew his hands back, though he kept the tips of his fingers on her curvaceous hips, with a possessive zeal that was as barely held back as storm waters behind a floodgate. “Why?” he asked, not argumentative but confused. “You don’t want me to stop.”

“How would you know?”

“If I truly did something to offend, you would hardly be asking me so politely.”

“I… you’re making me like that too much. It feels too good. This must be how a wanton feels, I just know it!”

Tarzan chuckled deep in his brawny chest. “A woman of your education should see the silliness of resenting a feeling because you like it too much. You should like it. If a civilized woman should get married, then it only makes sense that a civilized woman should enjoy being married—and all that goes with it. Otherwise, why be wed at all?”

“Why be wed?” Jane stammered in repetition.

“I’ve never known an animal that required it. Perhaps it’s just to assuage this guilt you’re feeling right now. And if you’re still feeling guilty over it—“ He smiled warily. “Why be wed? Unless, of course, you don’t really want to stop.”

Jane huffed. “Then you’re so able to discern between when I really want you to stop and when I don’t truly mean it?”

Tarzan gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. “You’re not the kind to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Alright then, Mr. Stoic. Feel free to ignore my wan protestations, if you’re so knowledgeable about how I truly feel.”

Tarzan grinned. “I knew you would say that,” he concluded with good humor.

He tossed the hem of her skirt up to bunch around her waist, then shuffled in close on his knees. His phallus still seemed intimidatingly large. Jane wondered if her misgivings were her body’s way of communicating concerns that she would be harmed taking its entire length into her womanhood. They were both new to sex, and that was as God intended, but it also meant that neither of them knew what Jane could take and what she could not.

Tarzan’s hands now slid between her legs, sapping Jane of all her morality. She didn’t know if she could deny him anything when these marvelous sensations were inside of her. His fingers stroked the folds of her sex, and every time he touched her, Jane felt more and more slippery.

“And it didn’t take you too long to get ready for me,” Tarzan added.

“I—I want you!” Jane blurted out, though she didn’t know if she quite meant it. All she knew was that her body was trembling and her arms seemed barely strong enough to hold her up. She didn’t know how, but she felt both hesitant and eager at the same time.

“I know you do. I want you too. You don’t know how badly I want you—every piece of you—every last inch of you!”

“No, I don’t know,” Jane gasped. How could she, when she didn’t even know her own mind?

But her body sang when she felt his cock settle along her splayed folds, the burgeoning head coming to a rest against her slit. It was almost in her now. Just one push and it would have her. It didn’t seem right to think that she would have it. She could engulf it, surround it, press in on it all she wanted—she knew it would claim all it touched, not surrender as Jane would.

“This is how much I want you,” Tarzan groaned, pressing himself fervently inside of Jane.

Her eyes bulged. She felt crazed with desire, like she was losing her mind. Her body was already lost—without conscious thought, she opened her legs wider to her husband, allowing him more room to stuff his manhood into her. All her feelings of piety evaporated like dew in the morning sun. She was sure what she wanted now, and Tarzan gave it to her.

In fact, he kept giving it to her, on and on. Jane kept thinking that he would bottom out in her, be hilted in her sex, but there seemed to always be more of his erection. From her vantage point—looking away from him as he mounted her like a bitch in heat—she had no way of knowing how much more of him would enter her, and she wouldn’t know until he was all the way in.

It made Jane gasp in surprised pain, both strain and delight washing over her in huge, alternating waves. Like she had to be stretched to properly fit all the sensations now filling her. She gasped and cried out, now knowing that her suspicions that she would prove a small, tight-fitting sheath for Tarzan were proving correct.

His cock pressed into her hymen. Jane squealed anew as it gave some, but still held him back from the depths of her sex. Tarzan wouldn’t be denied though. He pushed himself mercilessly in further. Jane cringed in hurt, but the pleasure outweighed the feeling of her pussy stretching, making it impossible for her to give into the pain.

Her fingers dug into the bearskin rug underneath her and she bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. Tarzan’s pleasured grunts as he forced himself fully into her had to filter past the drum roll of fiercely pounding blood she heard. It nearly drowned out the sound of his voice, leaving Jane with no awareness of the man besides the feeling of all-consuming pain inside her.

But Tarzan paused just when the sensation was almost too much for Jane, his cock resting undeniably in her tightly virgin sex. The walls of her cunt had stretched to take this new penetration and now she grew used to just how much she could hold inside her. With Tarzan simply standing still inside of her pussy, she could tolerate the pain. It subsided, leaving unmolested a throbbing sense of pleasure. But when he pulled himself out, Jane thought she would be turned inside-out by the corresponding feeling of emptiness his cock left in the wreck of her once-virgin womanhood.

“You can take it. You’re too strong not to take it.”

For a moment, Jane thought he was talking about his member. Then she realized he could sense her pain—he must be able to see it in her, but had judged that she could endure it, just as she had given him permission to do. Jane didn’t say anything in reply. What she was feeling was too confused to be put into words. But she did know she wanted more of the delicious feeling lurking underneath the pain, to erase the aching and soreness of losing her maidenhead.

Tarzan petted Jane’s back and flanks, stroking her, soothing her through the pain. “Good. That’s it. Take it. You can do it,” he said gently, his words caressing her almost as much as his hands.

Distantly, Jane knew he was soothing her like she was one of his animals, but she didn’t care. The tickly sensation of enjoyment was growing all throughout her. She wasn’t in pain anymore. The pleasure that she had thought of as so obscene now consumed her body. Then Tarzan pumped his hips, driving himself into her womanhood.

Jane gasped, almost passing out from the clap of her body and his meeting. He ground his hairy thighs into the flesh of her ass and Jane entirely forgot the pain she had been in. Now all she wanted was for her newly experienced sex to be put to the use Tarzan had found for it.

“More!” Jane groaned. “Ream me more!”

Her own words made her cunt writhe around his buried erection. She had actually said the kind of dirty talk that girls like her weren’t even supposed to listen to. And it aroused her! It made her grind her ass around in a circle, feeling Tarzan’s member inside her in a way she couldn’t help but savor.

He drove himself into her with long, steady thrusts—Jane could feel the friction between the size of his manhood and that of her own inner walls. It was making her burn up. She thrashed around, pressing herself back against to Tarzan, trying to get still more of him inside her.

“Jane!” Tarzan grunted. “Haven’t felt this way before… never felt like this before… have to… to…”

Tarzan howled, smashing himself heartily into her tender sex. All rhythm was lost. He was going wild on her, mating her, claiming her with a savage violence that Jane was both ready for and anticipating. She felt him swell inside her, then knew the liquid rush of his hot seed. Jane hadn’t known that he was so close to his emission, but it warmed her heart to know that the only reason he had lost control of himself was because he was so near his apex.

His ejaculate painted her insides. Jane shuddered, feeling her sexual need skyrocket, desiring him most at the moment of completion, as he brought her pleasure to its zenith. She pumped her hips, trying to get more of the sensation, but it was already leaving her. His prick melted inside her like ice at the dawn of spring.

“Oh… no, please… more…” she begged before reproaching herself. She was a student of biology. She knew Tarzan would not be able to fulfill her request—that she might well shame him by asking.

Only suddenly, she felt a throbbing about her folds. “You wish more?” Tarzan asked her.

Jane took a deep breath. “God, yes.”

Impossibly, his member firmed. Tarzan took hold of her hair in a firm grip, making Jane gasp as he pulled it taut. Holding her up to properly receive his passion. “I will provide.”

Jane closed her eyes with a shuddering exhale. Maybe it was a sin to enjoy her wifely duties this much. But if it was, she’d be damned to Hell before she gave it up.