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Lionel, Lord of the Jungle
by Jason (jacklloyd22@hotmail.com)

***

Forget Tarzan. Lionel is the main-man in Africa. (MMm, 
ped, humor, parody)

***

With a nod to some fine old black and white movies I 
once saw in the past.

***

"Ooooooggg, yahoooooooo!"

With the ease of an animal born to it, Lionel Lord of 
the Jungle moved through the lush forest canopy of 
equatorial Africa with practised elegance, huge biceps 
bulging, sinews stretched, fine toned muscles rippling 
the entire length of his near naked, glistening body. 
In a mode of travel unique to him and the lesser 
primates he swung effortlessly from trailing vine to 
trailing vine to cover in a few minutes a distance that 
would take a whole day for men marching on foot.

Having spent a full day himself chasing gunrunners and 
slave-traders while carrying vital vaccines and packets 
of condoms to outlying districts, the Lord of the 
Jungle was at last on his way home.

On the outskirts of a native village the master of 
aerial agility gave a last kick with his legs before 
leaping down to hit the ground square on his feet.

"Ouch, shit! I'm gonna bust my heels one day if I don't 
start wearing sneakers."

Solemnly he stalked down to the village where Boy was 
waiting to greet him at the door of a hut built of mud 
and woven grass. Boy was pubescent, slender and 
extremely beautiful and like Lionel he's was naked save 
for a small loincloth; the swimming trunks worn beneath 
it in previous years now having been discarded.

"Is dinner ready Boy?" asked the Lord of the Jungle.

"Nope," replied Boy, "Lady Janet took the afternoon off 
to go up river and see Chief Zimmerframe's golden 
horn."

The Lord of the Jungle's partner, Lady Janet Greybrick, 
was an English aristocrat who'd rejected a life of 
sumptuous luxury to live in a mud hut in Africa with an 
uneducated, penniless deadbeat, and the deadbeat often 
had trouble with her independent attitude. In fact she 
was still so hoity-toity he couldn't understand what 
she said half the time.

Lionel grunted. "Damn that golden horn. Every time 
Janet goes to see it she don't come back with anything 
but a fat smile on her face.

After pondering for a moment he thrust out his chin. 
"Looks like I'm gonna have to find a goat carcass an' 
skin it, gut it, an' cut it into convenient sized 
pieces. Then maybe I'll be able to trade it for a 
carry-out from Mrs. Mbelogo's hut."

He frowned. "God I hate that woman's carry-outs. They 
always taste like baboon turd."

"Mrs. Mbelogo's carry-outs ARE baboon turd," said Boy.

The Lord of the Jungle looked grim and nodded. "Yeah, 
but it wouldn't be so bad if the goddamn bitch weren't 
so tight with the chili sauce."

Putting off making an immediate decision Lionel turned 
and put a friendly arm about his young companion's 
small shoulders. Boy was an orphan he'd taken in when 
he began to develop and start to look cute. "Well, 
while Janet's away I reckon it's a good time to do - 
erm - say a few things to you. It's useful for us guys 
to chat together man-to-man now and then when there's 
delicate issues to discuss, don't you reckon?"

Boy looked up at him doubtfully. "I watch you and Janet 
screwin' in the corner of the hut every night, Lionel. 
Are you finally gonna explain to me about fuckin'?"

Lionel cringed and looked slightly shocked. "Hell no, 
nothing like that. I was just gonna say you need to 
swap your meager little loincloth for a new one. Purple 
went out of style months ago y'know. You'd be better 
off wearing turquoise or lemon-yellow now."

Avoiding any further attempt at rapport with someone 
who was cleverer than he was, Lionel stormed in through 
the door of the hut and gazed in satisfaction at the 
large chair in the centre of the straw-strewn floor. 
"Ah, the catalogue people have delivered my new 
recliner; blue chintz upholstery and stainless steel 
frame. Not much for the termites to chew on there, eh?"

"Looks a bit out of place in a mud hut," Boy remarked 
doubtfully has he followed him in.

Lionel pouted petulantly. "Out of place! Oh no, blue 
chintz is perfect.

Almond would have been awful, and mauve really would 
have clashed."

He sat on it gingerly and tested the pile of the 
padding. "Pink would have been nice, but us guys like 
to leave some choice for the girlies."

Satisfied that the item met with all his specifications 
he swung up his legs and stretched out, sighing with 
relief has his weary limbs relaxed. Quite suddenly a 
frown creased his brow.

"Don't be in a hurry to grow up, kid. It's a jungle out 
there in that rain forest."

Boy blinked. "Er... yeah, I guess it must be."

"So many trees a guy can't get an even suntan, and so 
hot you're stuffed without a decent deodorant. Choose 
the wrong one and the mosquitoes have you for 
breakfast. Worst of all, there's not a flushing toilet 
anywhere." He sighed deeply.

"Swingin' through those damn trees all the time is a 
nightmare. I banged my goolies on a tourist's head on 
the way home. Near snapped his neck an' near broke my 
balls."

Boy at last showed some concern. "Gee whiz! You're 
wedding tackle is the source of countless peoples 
fantasies, you can't risk having it damaged. Do you 
want to strip off your loincloth so I can take a look?"

Lionel nodded. "Yes, good idea, and take off your own 
loincloth so I can have a look too."

(Cut to stock film footage of black men pounding drums 
and modestly dressed native women performing 
traditional ethnic dances - Annnd stop!)

Back in the hut Boy put on a cute winsome expression as 
he posed to reveal himself without his loincloth, and 
Lionel nodded with approval at the attractive smooth 
sugar-stick pillowed on his soft, wrinkled little 
pouch. "Your doin' all right, kid. That little flute of 
yours will play many a fine tune when you're older."

Lionel possessed something more like a boa-constrictor 
slumping over a bag of apples in his lap, and Boy moved 
thoughtfully forward to hold the bulging under-hanging 
fruits in his hands.

"How does that feel?"

"Mmmm! Better. Rather nice and it doesn't hurt at all. 
You sure have a healing touch, kid."

"And if I roll 'em around like this?" asked Boy as he 
lifted the heavy sack.

A simple caress initiated an immediate reaction. 
Lionel's cock swelled rapidly to full erection, big and 
strong, with its underside marked by an artery as thick 
as a rope.

"Ooooh, yeah! Zambezi-easy, that's good."

"Makes your dangle go thick and stand up." remarked Boy 
as his fingers explored the vastness of the man's 
rammer, following the thick vein on its under surface 
all the way down to the root.

"Sure does, my little pipsqueak. It loves your 
thoughtful attention."

"This kind of attention?" Boy asked has he took a full 
handed grip and rolled the sheath of foreskin down over 
the bulbous, purple tip and gazed at the flaring pee-
hole.

"Oooooh, wow, oooh, yeah! That's rather lovely."

"'Spect you'd like me to kiss something better. You 
usually do."

"Good idea. A fine idea."

The tip of Boy's pink, wet tongue smoothed delicately 
around the slavering, plump summit of Lionel's rearing 
cock before he gripped the base of it with his fingers 
and slid the top portion into his mouth.

Lionel groaned, but Boy wasn't finished.

Drawing a lung full of breath through his nose he 
pushed his mouth down until the fat tip of the vast 
gland hit the back of his throat, and then he slowly 
dragged his lips up again.

Lifting his sweet mouth away he pressed the shiny, wet 
head of the man-cock against his sun-tanned cheek.

"Was that okay?" he asked.

"Yeh, yeh. But concentrate more on the top end. That's 
where the nice feelings hits me best."

Boy promptly put the lump of steaming, hard meat back 
into his mouth, and the Lord of the Jungle squirmed, 
revelling in lewd sensation as his cock sawed in and 
out.

After a few moments he put his hands on the back of 
Boy's head as the youngster's lips began to increase 
their speed of movement.

"Yeow, wow!"

He moaned wildly as his hips gave an almighty upward 
heave and his cock ejected several strong pulses of 
cream.

Boy's eyelashes fluttered and a whinny of surprise 
squeezed out from his throat.

At that moment the Commissioner of Police came bursting 
through the door. He was a tall, thin man with a grey 
moustache and usually he was calm and composed, but at 
that moment he looked extremely agitated. He gave a 
swift glance at Boy who was rising up and wiping a 
puddle of spilt sperm from his chin with the back of 
his hand.

"Sorry to intrude while people are still eating, 
Lionel, but we have a crisis. I've just heard that 
fifty Warimi tribesmen and a couple of white ner'do-
wells are planning to cross the rope bridge at the 
chasm and plunder the incredibly old and mysterious 
Secret Sacred City of Antiquity on the other side. What 
shall we do?"

Lionel climbed from his recliner, stood straight, 
sucked in his abdomen and puffed out his chest.

"Leave it to me commissioner. This is the kind of job a 
Lord of the Jungle does best. It's what I'm here for."

With a single energetic bound, and then a couple more, 
he leap to the door.

"Shouldn't you get dressed first?" the commissioner 
asked.

Lionel paused. "Huh! Oh sure. Is there a telephone 
cubicle around here?"

The commissioner frowned. "Isn't getting dressed in a 
telephone cubicle one of Superman's gimmicks?"

"Yeh, so it is. He wears such lovely tight fitting 
suits too, I often get carried away thinking about 'em. 
I've always fancied being the Caped Crusader."

Boy sighed. "Batman is the Caped Crusader."

The lad's muscle-bound, naked mentor gave a snort of 
contempt. "Bah! Johnnie-come-lately's all of 'em. The 
Lord of the Jungle was the first and original super 
hero."

He then gave his prodigy a searing look. "No time to 
dress, lad, we've a Secret Sacred City of Antiquity to 
save."

The commissioner fondled a rising bulge in the front of 
his trousers and slyly winked at Lionel's youthful 
partner.

"No need for you to go on a dangerous jaunt like this, 
Boy. There are plenty of things you could be doing 
around here."

Boy gazed up at him with a look of mild reprimand. "I 
always see you on Tuesday evenings commissioner. Don't 
mess up my routine, I've spent all afternoon carving it 
on a tree." To the Lord of the Jungle he said. "We'll 
have to walk Lionel? I can't swing through the trees 
like you do."

A rare light of cunning gleamed in Lionel's eyes and he 
smirked. "To hell with walkin' an' swinging through 
trees. I've got a jeep parked down by the river, so 
we're ridin'."

Boy was aghast. "But Lionel, you were found as a baby 
in the forest and raised by apes. You can swing through 
the trees like a monkey, but you can't drive."

The Lord of the Jungle smiled derisively.

"Never let things like that get in the way of a good 
story, kid. Come on, let's go."

(Cut to stock film footage of vast herds of wildebeest 
careering over the African savannah - Annnd stop!)

As the jeep rumbled along the narrow jungle trail 
Lionel gazed over at Boy with some concern.

"Yer dick's still stiff, kid"

The lad nodded. "That's on account of me being stuck 
with a lousy lover who never finishes things off 
right."

Lionel pursed his mouth. "I'll snap the bastard's neck 
for yer when we get back Boy, but right now I don't 
want you to sit so close. I'm pretty new to these 
newfangled jeep-thingies an' your prick looks too much 
like the gear-stick."

They'd only gone a mile before they had to pull up for 
a red light at a jungle crossing, and Lionel growled 
with annoyance. "Ain't it allus the same? Every time 
you need to get somewhere fast the damn lights are 
against you."

He wrapped his hand around Boy's cock, and while he was 
jerking it he watched a fat old mama carrying a bowl on 
her head waddling down the trial on the right. When she 
reached the junction she swung towards them.

"Mrs. Mbelogo, don't you ever indicate when you turn 
off the trail?" chaffed the Lord of the Jungle.

"Sorry boss, m'mind was on other things," the woman 
replied.

As she approached Lionel sniffed suspiciously as a 
noxious aroma wafted down from the bowl on her head.

"You been out collectin' baboon shit fer carry-outs?"

The woman grinned, showing a set of tombstone teeth. 
"Nah, the baboon's are all pooped out around here, but 
I found me a heap o' rhinoceros dung today so I's gonna 
try a new recipe - Rhino-crap dumplings, with edgar 
rice."

"Sounds - er - interestin'."

"Top-notch grub."

She stepped closer to get a better view of Lionel's 
hand pumping Boy's cock. "Careful how you handle that 
thing, Lionel. Boy may be only a kid, but his lil' 
carrier-bags hold enough whitewash to paint a ceiling." 
Her smile broadened as she gazed at the youngsters 
face. "Y'll have to come over an' see me agin soon, 
honey, I'm a'thinkin' o' redecoratin'."

"Sure Mrs. Mbelogo" Boy panted, "I'll come an' visit as 
long as you promise not to offer me supper."

The lights flashed green to go, and forsaking all 
niceties Lionel shoved Boys cock into first gear, put 
his foot on the accelerator and sped across into the 
trees.

Then he had to struggle for several minutes to get back 
onto the road.

"Damn, damn, damn!" cursed the Lord of the Jungle.

"Hey, will you take it easy?" Boy grimaced, "My dick 
don't do reverse."

When they arrived at the rope bridge over the chasm 
they were met by fifty fierce armed tribesmen led by 
two rough looking white men carrying hunting guns. On 
recognising Lionel the natives shrieked in terror, 
threw down their spears and ran off, but the two white 
men, one ugly and the other just plain sneaky looking, 
stayed to level their rifles.

"Who the hella you, fellah?" asked the ugly one.

"I'm Lord of the Jungle, so be afraid." Lionel's voiced 
boomed loudly.

"Afraid!" Ugly looked at Sneaky, then back at Lionel. 
"Afraid o' some naturist, nudey puddin'-head out on a 
joyride? No way. You may have frightened the natives 
with your freaky looks Lord of the Jungle, but you'll 
have a tougher time scaring off a couple of hard-nosed 
bullets."

Lionel glared. 'Freaky Pudding-head!' His face 
contorted. Angry, affronted and indignant he sprang up 
to beat his fists on his chest. "Ooooooggg, 
yahooooooooo!"

"What's all that racket for?" enquired Sneaky.

The Lord of the Jungle looked abashed. "I stood up too 
quick and banged my cock on the steering wheel," he 
explained.

Carefully he clambered out from the jeep, then 
straightening up he marched gamely, fearlessly, 
stupidly towards the two dangerous desperado's. "Now 
just listen here you fellahs, you could soon be in 
serious trouble unless you change your ways."

Ugly grinned, showing a row of broken teeth. "Oh yeah! 
How d'yer reckon that?"

"I can tell by your appearance neither of you have 
washed or shaved for several days, and poor personal 
hygiene can quickly cause all kinds of health problems 
in an equatorial climate."

"This guy's a loony, let's fill him with holes," 
growled Ugly.

Sneaky smiled sneakily. "Nah, let's just lose his 
balls. Let's take out one each."

Lionel came to a shuffling halt as a pair of gun 
muzzles panned down, and he suddenly wished he'd paused 
earlier to put on his brown Sunday loincloth.

Just as fingers were squeezing down on triggers, Boy 
climbed out from the passenger side of the jeep and 
walked around to the front, and there he posed sideways 
on, hands on hips, one knee jutting slightly forward, 
young cock at full erection with its foreskin drawn all 
the way back to expose a dark pink tip.

Peering along his shoulder his lush eyelashes fanned up 
and down and he gave the two wastrel ner'do-wells a 
scintillating look with hooded eyes that was pure 
seduction.

"Don't ignore me, boys," he piped cutely. "I may be 
young, but I'm hot for tough-guys who stink of sweat."

The men's trousers tented out magnificently as they 
gaped in astonishment, and a drivel of saliva ran down 
Ugly's chin.

While their attention was diverted Lionel was able to 
step forward and yank the guns from their hands, and 
then with an upward swing he brought the butt end of 
the weapons up to clack on the side of their heads.

When both Ugly and Sneaky had collapsed into a single 
untidy heap, Lionel turned to his young companion.

"Thanks for the timely help, Boy Wonder. I'd have ended 
up a soprano forever but for you, and a thing like that 
can play havoc with a career as Lord of the Jungle."

"I'm not Boy Wonder, Lionel," his companion protested. 
"Boy Wonder is Batman's sidekick, and his real name is 
Robin."

The Lord of the Jungle sucked his teeth, "Damn it, I 
should have suspected something like that. Them quirky 
dudes in silly suits get all the best lines."

At that moment the commissioner came panting along the 
jungle trail, busily filling his pipe with tobacco.

"You got here quick, commissioner."

"Yeah, I thumbed a lift with a lorry load of ivory 
poachers. All okay guys - as long as you ain't a 
elephant. Pretty generous with the old wacky-baccy 
too."

He took a moment to put a match to his pipe as he 
studied the two unconscious men on the ground, then he 
puffed out a billow of blue smoke. "That's thirty-six 
times you've saved the Secret Sacred City of Antiquity 
from being plundered this year, Lionel."

The Lord of the Jungle gazed serenely across the deep 
chasm towards the mysterious Secret Sacred City of 
Antiquity on the other side. The colonnades and 
terraces along its primary avenues were now clogged 
with lichen and moss, while creepers and vines laced 
the ancient crumbling towers of its temples and 
palaces, the domes of which seemed to glow golden in 
the evening half-light.

The city was a unique, timeless monument to an unknown 
race of people who had once lived, worked and died in 
central Africa during in an era yet to be defined by 
science.

"Yes, and I ruined my manicure when I grabbed those 
owlhoots guns this time." he said gravely, "But I guess 
it was worth it. There are too few beautiful things 
left unspoilt in this world commissioner, and it's 
important to keep this one untainted until Disneyland 
comes to Africa. Then we can sell it as a ready-made 
feature and go live in Bermuda."

The Lord of the Jungle turned to his young partner. 
"We've done our job here, let's go home, Boy. Your 
backside and I have a date with a bowl of coconut oil."

Boy made no effort to move has he felt Lionel's beefy 
hand gratuitously stroking his bare bottom.

"Coconuts don't grow in Africa," he said.

Lionel scoffed lightly and chuckled. "Have faith in 
Hollywood, Robin. If coconut oil is needed, it'll be 
there."

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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