My first sex with the wild man, Tarzan

Adventures of Stallion and Bunny – Episode 255

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Rushing through the creek, following Tarzan swinging on vines above his head with a huge hardon, til he got spotted and caught by the strong wild man

The creek runs cold and clear over smooth river stones, hidden deep in a stretch of forest where the canopy thickens into a green ceiling that swallows sound. Tarzan wades in first, the water lapping at his thick, hairy calves as he turns back to offer a hand. The wildling takes it, his lean fingers disappearing inside Tarzan’s broad grip, and lets himself be pulled forward until the current hits his waist. Their clothes sit folded on a mossy boulder near the bank. Nothing between them now but water and light filtering through the leaves. Tarzan’s chest is a dense map of dark hair, water running in rivulets down the grooves between his abs. His uncut cock hangs heavy, swaying with the current. The boy’s eyes trace the length of it, then flick up to meet Tarzan’s gaze. His braces catch a glint of sun when he grins. He moves closer, his own cock—slim, already half-chubbed—brushing against Tarzan’s thigh. The twink’s freckled face tilts up. Their mouths meet, slow at first, then deeper, Tarzan’s tongue pushing past the metal brackets on his teeth, licking the inside of his lower lip. His hands slide up Tarzan’s wet chest, fingers tangling in the coarse hair, gripping, pulling. Both their cocks stiffen between them—Tarzan’s thickening to its full eight inches, the foreskin pulling back to reveal a flushed, veiny head, and the boy is jutting upward, rigid and leaking against Tarzan’s stomach.

Tarzan walks the wildling backward through the water until his shoulders press flat against a flat-topped rock jutting from the creek bed. His hand wraps around the back of the twink’s neck, squeezing, thumb pressing into the soft hollow of his neck. The boy’s mouth opens, breath hitching, and Tarzan pushes him down to his knees on the submerged gravel.

The water reaches his chest. Tarzan steps forward, his cock slapping wet against his cheek, as he opens wide, taking the fat head past his lips, metal brackets scraping lightly along the shaft. Tarzan grips his own base and feeds it in deeper, inch by inch, until his throat clenches around the tip. He chokes—a wet, strangled sound—and Tarzan holds him there, fingers tightening on his neck, feeling the swallow and gag pulse against his palm. He pulls back, lets him gasp, then thrusts forward again, fucking his face with slow, deliberate strokes, water splashing around his knees with each roll of his hips.

Then Tarzan pulls out entirely and hauls him to his feet by the jaw. He spins him around, presses him chest-first against the rock, and lifts him right leg up, hooking it over his forearm. The boy’s toes barely graze the creek bed—he’s balanced on the tip of his left foot, ass tilted up, the peachy cheeks spread open. Tarzan spits into his palm, smears it over his cockhead, and presses the blunt tip against the wildling’s hole. He pushes in raw, no barrier, just skin splitting skin, and his back arches, fingers clawing at the wet rock surface. Tarzan bottoms out in one long thrust, his balls slapping against the wildling’s taint. He keens, braces-covered teeth biting his own forearm, cock bouncing with every impact, leaking a thin string of precum into the creek water. Tarzan breeds him deep, grinding his pelvis flush against his ass on the final thrusts, pumping hot cum into his guts while his jaw clenches and a low growl tears from his throat.

He pulls out and as he sinks to his knees on the rocky bank, water dripping from his body, chest heaving. Tarzan stands over him, stroking his still-half-hard cock, the foreskin slick with cum and spit. He aims the last spurts across his face—thick ropes striping from his cheekbone to his chin, one catching in the gap of his braces. His tongue darts out, licking his lips, and his own hand flies to his cock, jerking fast and desperate, hips stuttering upward. He comes three strokes later, thin white arcs landing on his stomach and the gravel in front of him, his whole body shuddering through it. The forest goes quiet except for their breathing and the creek running cold over the stones.