When the meal was over, when we had licked the last of our dessert from the dishes-dishes drastically less interesting than the ones from which we had eaten before-Sandy and Grandma started to clean up and I took off for my room.
Away from Sandy for the first time since I had woken up, I realized how tired I was, how much energy I had expended in our uninhibited pursuit of the joys of love.
I stripped off my clothes. I smelled my body. It smelled of Sandy's aphrodisiac odor. The scent itself excited me. I thought that if you could bottle her body odor you could sell it for a million dollars an ounce.
I lay down. I played with myself casually and was amazed to feel how ready I was-after all the workouts I had had that morning. I felt more hard-up now than I did when I woke up. If only I could take my mind off Sandy, for just a few minutes!
The room, southern exposure, was hot as hell. I felt like getting up and closing the shutters to block off some of the sun, but I was too tired, and besides, that would have eliminated whatever little breeze was forthcoming.
I sweated. I stopped playing with myself, putting my hands under my ass. This served a second purpose of preventing my now sweaty ass from sticking to the sheets and letting a little air circulate down there.
I fell asleep.
The jungle was very hot, even though it seemed to be morning. A steamy mist rose from the thick panoply of jungle flowers and dense, boa-draped verdure. Monkeys were chattering, lions were screaming, elephants were trampling, hyenas were laughing, but Tarzan was serious.
“Boy,” he said to me. Tarzan had a face that looked something like my father's, but a body that looked like Nureyev's. He wore a loin patch held up by a shoestring. “I want you take care Jane for me today. She still asleep inside.” He pointed to the little shelter in our tree hut high above the primeval jungle. “I must go to U.N. conference in village. You take care Jane. OK Boy?”
“OK, Tarzan,” I said, and he swung off on his vine into the jungle.
I started to tremble. I was alone with Jane for the first time. I couldn't even remember what she looked like. What would she think of me? I'd never been alone with her, it seemed. Tarzan must have kept us apart, jealous of us both. Plus, I was practically naked-all I wore was a loincloth smaller than Tarzan's, and I was outgrowing it.
Dazzling Jane emerged from the hut without noticing me and strolled to the other side of the platform. She held her leopard skin g-string in her hand but wore nothing. Her body was Sandy's, but her face-whose was it? — was my mother's.
She stretched languidly to the morning mist, her hands on her head, sticking out her coral-tipped breasts and arching out her pelvis so that, from the side, her pink-lipped clitoris was fondly silhouetted against the morning sky through the peachy thatch of her pubic bush.
She turned and saw me and said, “Oh,” casually draping her g-string across her privvy parts. “Boy!” she said, “I didn't know you were here! I hope I wasn't too-too provocative when I-” she wiggled her breasts around ”-stretched.”
“Oh, no,” I said, feeling my cock shoot up and push away the loin cloth. I crossed my legs in an effort towards false modesty and started to rub myself off between the thighs.
She walked up to me and I blushed when I found I couldn't take my eyes off her naked, shaking breasts.
“Where's Tarzan?” she asked.
“He went to the village.”
“What for?”
“U.N. conference.”
“When's he coming back?”
“I don't know,” I said, re-crossing my legs and shoving my stiffened prick between them.
“What did you just do, Boy?” she asked.
“I said Tarzan was at the U.N. He probably won't be back until late. Those things sometimes go on all night.”
“With your legs, though? What was that you did with your legs?”
“I was just crossing them.”
“Do it again.”
“Aw, come on, Jane, let me be.”
“Let's see.”
I uncrossed my legs and let my stiff prick point up the accusing finger of desire at her.
She passed across it teasingly with her g-string and didn't bother to cover herself again, letting the string part dangle across the red, throbbing head. “Oh, Boy,” she said, “you look better than Tarzan.”
“Don't say anything against Tarzan,” I admonished.
“Tarzan! That creep! He's such a prude. You'd think he was a boy scout or something. All he cares about are his goddamn apes and his U.N. conferences. He hasn't fucked me in years. I think he's making it with Cheetah.” She rolled her g-string into a ball and threw it against the wall of the hut. “The son of a bitch!”
Her face was looking more and more like my mother's and I was becoming more and more scared of the situation, embarrassed at my nudity and guilty for my blatant desire.
“Look, Jane,” I said, “let's go pick some mangoes.”
“Mangoes?”
“Yeah. You know, they taste pretty good.”
“I can think of better things to pick.”
“Come on, Jane, I haven't had any breakfast.”
“You can eat me.” She stepped up against me and started to breast-beat me.
“Gee whiz, Jane, what would Tarzan think if he heard you say something like that.”
“Fuck Tarzan.” 'Let's go eat some mangoes.”
“Where the hell are these mangoes?”
“Down in the mango grove.”
“It's so far!”
“No it's not. I know a shortcut.”
She pulled me into her but I maneuvered her, belly to belly, to the edge of the platform. I made the mistake of looking down. We must have been at least five miles over the jungle. The elephants looked like mice, pygmy mice. I was scared, but even more scared to let Jane know I was.
“Hang on to me,” I said, and grabbed a vine. She grabbed me around the neck and we took off.
“Boy, I really dig being naked against you- Tarzan always makes me wear that ratty old g-string.”
We were soaring high over the jungle. While Jane clamped her arms around my neck, she locked her legs around my thighs. I could feel the pressure of her wiry pubic hair rubbing against my prick, which was getting so unbearably hard I knew I'd have to stick it into something soft soon.
But Jane knew what she was doing. As I adeptly shifted from the upswing of one vine to the downswing of the next, and onward (these were very long vines, for we were at least five miles up and getting higher) Jane hoisted herself a little higher on my haunches and then jammed herself down onto me, all the way down to the balls.
And so we swung through the air, our bodies interlocked and bucking. We swung in long arcs like trapeze artists, her body dropping inches, inches, inches away from mine as we fell miles, miles and miles, and then as the arc reached bottom and we swung up I jammed up and she squashed down, down, down into me as we rose for miles and miles and miles over the jungle until we reached to the top of the arc and switched to the next descending vine.
Carrying both our squirming, gyrating bodies and having to switch from vine to vine every so often, my arms began to tire, and in the midst of my delicious ecstasy I felt a core of panic begin to open in my gut.
I couldn't hold on any longer and we fell.
We were falling but still fucking, tumbling, and then I glanced down and saw to my surprise that the earth wasn't coming up at us after all, we weren't falling-soaring instead, propelled by the very thrust of our bodies. Each time I pumped my piston into her we'd shoot ahead like a jet and then soar on with each near withdrawal.
I don't recall how long we flew this way, but all of a sudden something happened to intensify infinitely the quality of my sensations-I don't know how it came about, but suddenly I was lying flat on my back and Jane was riding me as if I were a magic carpet. She was rocking the boat but I was keeping us aloft by swimming the backstroke through the air. The action of my hips as I swam did strange, delicious things to both of us and as I neared a climax I could hear the squealing and squeaking of the wild animals many miles below us.
“Jane, Jane!” I cried out as I began to come. The sound of my voice woke me and I looked up into Sandy's wildly excited eyes as she sat in the very position Jane had wiggled into in my dream. I didn't-couldn't-stop, and I still heard the wild animals-reduced to bedsprings-screaming still, and stopped swimming to grab Sandy's flank as I pumped my sperm up into her loins.
She lay alongside me on the bed.
“That must have been some dream,” she said. “Who was Jane? What did she look like?”
“You know-Jane, Tarzan's girl friend, like, grandma was talking about before.”
“Yeah, but what did she look like?”
“Just like you, stupid, what did you think?” I kissed her gently on the mouth and tried to forget that Jane's face was Mother's, and when I finished the long, warm, satiated kiss I had almost erased the unsettling thought from my mind.
“And who were you in the dream,” she said when we broke the kiss, “Tarzan?”
“Nah. I was Boy.”
“Where was Tarzan?”
“At some U.N. meeting.”
“Oh.” She turned toward the window. “Look, Terry, it's getting cloudy.”
The giant, sculpted cumulus clouds that had hung so whitely in the sky all morning had begun to move across the sun. The sky darkened, and the few blue patches were quickly covered with more grey clouds. A wind started rustling the cherry tree outside the window, and cooled the room suddenly.
“That feels good,” I said, raising my arms over my head and letting the breeze play about my body and evaporate the film of sweat from my sex-hot skin.
I looked down at Sandy. Her eyes were closed, her head lay resting on my chest, her breasts pushing warmly against my ribcage. One of her legs was draped between mine. Our toes touched. She had fallen asleep. I lowered one arm around her, down her back, and rested the other hand on her hip.
I shut my eyes and joined her in soft unconsciousness.