The college student, a regular at the sex club, take the opportunity to have a second encounter with Tarzan. This time she takes charge.
It isn’t a question but a statement. My head swivels around and I catch sight of the man who’s called out my in-character name. I smile. It’s Tarzan. He was the first person to have sex with me in The Wicked Club. Amazingly, he hadn’t broken character until we were done and even then it’d only been for a few seconds to applaud my sexual skills. I didn’t think I was that good but I took his praise even if it was only being said for the purpose of building up the esteem of a new member.
I tilt my head and stare at him as he does the same, mimicking me. Wiggling a finger I call him over. I haven’t taken a seat yet, having been focused on watching two lovers, both handsome men, having sex on one of the stages. Between the performance and the sounds of sex all around me I am in a perpetual state of tension, ready for whatever sexual encounter presents itself. This is one of those nights when I don’t arrive with a first encounter plan, no prior arranged meet-up with another member. That’s rare for me. I like to start off without surprise.
But I can go with the flow.
My tall jungle man makes his way toward me, weaving around the furniture and bodies scattered about. I watch him, feeling rivulets of sexual juices already beginning to run down my legs. I’d consider myself pathetic if that wasn’t a common sight at a secret sex club.
I chuckle and reach out, putting a hand on his chest. That’s the word he’d said that first time. He’d had me strip off my clothes and then lie down. Once he’d climbed on top of me, offering me that initial experience, I’d been lost to this world.
I’m still lost, too, my schoolwork still suffering from my participation in this exotic and erotic world.
His hand closes over mine and squeezes.
I nod and glance down. His costume is the same as before: a simple loincloth that only covers his cock and nothing more. That piece of fabric is almost parallel with the floor, this beast of a man sporting a huge erection. Stepping closer to him I work my hips, rubbing against his hard on. He lets out a raw sound akin to a howl or growl. Probably something he learned from the jungle animals I’m sure.
“Mine,” he says. This time it’s not a question. His hands reach up and tug on my braids. I’m in a dress, donned to look like my character – Dorothy Gale.
“Yours,” I say, lifting one of my hands to his hair. It’s long, blond, and soft to the touch. I run my fingers through it. The third time my hand comes down his head tilts and he rests his cheek against my palm. I feel my skin flush as I realize he’s purring.
I look around, trying to figure out where we can take our sexual encounter. I spot a free bed, its sheets freshly changed, and gesture toward it. His eyes reluctantly drift away from mine. He grunts and I smile. Taking his hand in mine I lead him over to it. Last time he’d carried me but this was different. I came into my own a long time ago. I’m not hesitant or uncertain anymore. I don’t need anyone to take charge. At least not unless I voluntarily give up control which I occasionally do. That scenario is always a possibility here.
Everything is possible here.
Once we’re standing beside the bed I reach out and untie his loincloth, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes narrow as he watches it hit with a barely audible soft thud then looks back up at me. Tarzan is one of the most respected roleplayers here. He has a persona and he is almost always in it. He plays it up, too, which makes him one of the most active sex partners.
His cock is thick and long, one of the bigger ones I’ve seen. I smile, remembering it moving inside me. I lick my lips and shudder. I’m horny and can’t wait to be with this man again. Reaching out a hand I grab his sack and roll it around in my hand.
More growling and purring. My pet likes it. That’s what this feels like. I’m here to play with him. The roles are reversed and this king of the jungle will be servicing his queen. After a few squeezes and accompanying groans I move on to his cock. I grasp it down low and slowly slide my hand up it. There’s already pre-come on the tip so I use my finger to smear it around the cock’s head. He’s watching me, every move, with those still narrowed eyes.
He’s not fearful but intrigued, treating me like a living mystery. I love it.
I lift my finger and trace my lower lip, applying remnants of his pre-come like a balm. Finally his eyes widen, his mouth opening as he begins to pant. I stick the finger in my mouth and suck on it, doing so noisily and with gusto. It’s delicious. I love the taste of him. Salty and earthy which, go figure, fits with his persona. I reach both my hands out and place them on his stomach, on the muscles there. I can feel him flexing. He has an athlete’s body, made for endurance and flexibility while hiding massive strength. My hands slide up until they find his nipples. They’re stiff and his chest ripples under my touch.
Sighing, I look up at him. He’s beautiful, something more than handsome. I’d forgotten that. Even though I’ve thought of him many times, remembered what he’d done to me, and even had him pop up in a few fantasies while masturbating, being here now made him seem larger than life.
His hands, which up till now had hung at his sides, come up. One tugs at a braid and the other gropes a breast as best it can over my clothing.
I chuckle and shake my head, stepping back.
“Just a sec,” I tell him as I slowly strip down to nothing but my knee-high socks and ruby slippers. My breasts, large enough for more than a handful, are tipped with hardened pebbles. My pussy is glistening, my scent heavy in the air despite all the people around us caught in the throws of their own passion. Reaching out a hand, palm up, I wait for him to take it. When he does I pull him towards me. He stumbles my way, eyes wide. He looks me up and down once, twice, three times, and then a fourth.
I see his cock quiver excitedly and it’s my turn to let out a purring sound.
Copying what he did to me that first time I tug his hand down and put it on my pussy. Surprisingly his fingers are chilled. I flinch, in a good way, letting out a gasp. I see him grin, a hungry look passing over his eyes.
Spreading my legs I let him pet me, building up the flames of my desire. As his hand repeats its pass he presses his fingers deeper and deeper into my folds. Standing tall, I arch my back, reaching out and using my grasp on his arm as leverage to keep me on my feet. Shivers race up my spine and I visibly spasm. His hand pulls away and he looks at me questioningly.
“That felt great,” I tell him. “I want you to lay down now, though.” He tilts his head and arches a brow. I smile. “Please.”
He does so but not before he steps close enough to nuzzle the side of my cheek. Clean shaven his skin is smooth. I can feel his cock pressing against my hip, its tip still coated with his eagerness. I close my eyes and for the briefest of moments give myself over to the tenderness of his touch. This, too, is part of the role he plays. Multifaceted, deep, both tender and ferocious. That’s what makes him so delicious and such a great partner.
A whimper escapes and he responds with one of his own.
We stay like that for a minute or two and then he’s doing what I told him to. He climbs up on the bed. It’s not too large, maybe a full. It’s definitely big enough for the two of us and what we’ll be doing. They’ve changed the sheets and have placed a clean blanket, folded, on the end of the bed. The pillows are fluffed and the pillowcases unwrinkled. The care they take with this place is amazing, something I’m sure most of us take for granted.
He sits, legs out, and watches me as I climb onto the bed with him. I crawl between his legs, pushing his knees farther apart, and lower my head. My tongue flicks out, licking at the tip of him. His body jumps and I laugh, reaching out to push on his chest.
“Lay down,” I tell him.
He pops his neck and drops, making the bed bounce. I wobble but stay upright. Once he’s laying down, his head resting on a pillow propped up by his arms beneath so he can look at me, I put one hand on each of his legs, just above the knee. I press down like I’m giving him a massage, and slowly move my hands forward. As I do that I also move them inward. Soon my fingertips find the edges of his sack.
His hips lift and his legs spread, giving me more room.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I take his girth in hand. In both hands, actually, because he’s got just enough length for me to do that. Up and down I begin to pump him. I don’t want to get him off but I’d like to build up his anticipation.
More purring and growling. He sure brings the animal part of him to the forefront. I like that. I don’t remember him doing much of it the first time. Of course I’d been new and in awe of my surroundings. The experience, too, hadn’t lasted very long. Not like now, where I’m dragging it out so I can eek out every drop of sensuality.
After a bit of jerking him I scoot up and lean forward. I let go of his cock and grab my breasts, using them to paint his thighs, sack, and dick. He inhales sharply, surprised. I must have caught him off-guard and the thought of that makes me happy. Tarzan has probably experienced almost everything this place, and its occupants, have to offer. He’s been a part of it since the beginning.
I do that for awhile then stop and do a bit of sucking. My mouth opens and I take him in, sliding down until as much of him as I can handle, which is most of it, is sheathed. Then I adjust my angle and take the rest of him in, the tip of him pressing against the back of my throat. I want to gag but I don’t. Instead I swallow repeatedly. Doing so brings out a moan and for a second I think he’s going to come right then and there.
I don’t want that.
Using my teeth to slightly graze the skin of him I let him fall from my mouth. He shivers and I take a moment to just look at him. There are very few sights that can compare to something like that. A man, sprawled out for your enjoyment, perspiration dotting his skin.
Crawling forward I climb on top of him, straddling him. His cock stands, pressed against my backside as I sit. I reach out my arms. “Give me your hands.”
I entwine our fingers, stand just enough to line him up at my entrance, then slowly lower myself. For a second he slips away and I have to let go long enough to grab him and guide him in about an inch. I’m fine with that. I like the feel of his cock in my hand, after all.
Our hands together again I let him be the thing keeping me upright as I begin to ride him. Like a bucking bronco I bounce and flail, barely managing to stay on my bull. The bed rocks and I’m glad they keep things well oiled so it doesn’t creek under the rough treatment we’re putting it through.
He fills me to the brim and as I move up and down the friction is like a match. What had been a small flame becomes a roaring bonfire then a wildfire. He’s hitting the back of me with each shove down and soon I’m down for the last time, my body convulsing as I hold his hands in a death grip. I lean forward, shaking my head and crying out to whatever god might be out there.
I’m overcome with the building sensitivity as my body tries to wring out every drop of come I might have inside me but that doesn’t stop Tarzan. He lets go of my hands and rises to a sitting position. I cry out but he merely puts my arms around his neck and grabs my hips.
He pulls me body up, sliding his cock nearly out of the tight fit. Nearly. He pauses then he’s quickly pushing my body back down, sheathing himself once again. My legs wrap around his waist, getting comfortable in this new position, and I bury my head in his neck, his hair fanning out a like a willow tree. “Yes,” I mumble. Then louder, “Yes!”
Another orgasm rips through my body, threatening to cut me in half. That’s enough to bring him to climax, too, as he brings my body down one last time. He’s impaled me as deep as he can go and I can feel him pumping his semen into every nook and cranny available.
“Mine,” he whispers into my ear, reaching up to pat my head.
“Yes,” I say.
“Still so damn good,” he says, finally breaking character.
“You, too,” I tell him, utterly satisfied.