The lodge bungalow pulses with humid night air. Rain hammers the roof. Manon leans against the wall, arms raised high, hands gripping the beam. Her chest heaves, nipples straining the thin fabric. “Bastard! Don’t touch me!” she hisses, eyes wild, playing the game.
Two days earlier, Kilimanjaro airport. Francis, our guide, herds us into the 4×4. Julie and StĂ©phane, honeymooners groping freely. Lise and Manon, fit friends in summer gear. Tarangire safari electrifies us. Elephants, lions. Bumps shove bodies close. I eye their curves from the back, cock twitching.
The Fever
Dinner buzzes. Manon’s laugh hooks me. Brunette firecracker, athletic curves bouncing. Lise, blonde pixie, perky tits free under her top. Flirty banter flies. She catches my stare down her cleavage. Smirks. “Show me your lion cub pics? How you handle your gear?”
In my room, she presses against me. Soft tits mash my arm. Breath hot. No bra. Skirt hikes easy—no panties. I grab her wrists, pin behind her. “Invisible rope on the beam. Don’t scream or I gag you with your panties.”
Eyes widen. I lift her arms, back her to the wall. She grips the beam. Stays. “Bastard! Help!” Half-whisper. Hand clamps her mouth. Tongue flicks my palm. Skirt up—bare pussy. “Made of the same magic thread.”
Heart slams. Pulse roars in my ears. Her skin radiates heat. I breathe her neck, ears. Goosebumps ripple. Unbutton her blouse. Lips trace throat, tits. Suck nipples hard. Tongue navel. Fingers climb thighs, tease inner silk. She squirms, giggles, arches.
Skirt drops. Blouse gone. Mine too. Lift her, toss on bed. Yank ankles, spread legs. Dive in. Nose in trimmed bush. Tongue splits lips. Juices flood. Salty-sweet. Cock throbs, unzip. She moans, claws sheets.
Phone buzzes. Lise video calls. Manon answers, breath ragged. “Oh yes!” Fakes orgasm. Shows me buried in her. Lise laughs. “Slut! Eating her out already? Hey Jon, nice mustache.” Barbed stubble rasps clit. Finger circles ass. She bucks, growls.
The Blaze
Lise: “What’s he doing?” Manon gasps: “Lick-ing-my-ass.” Lise: “Pig slut! Can I join?” Manon: “No, too blonde.” Hangs up laughing.
She yanks my jeans. “Photographer’s gear—rental?” On all fours, ass high. Hot breath on cockhead. Lips engulf. Tongue swirls shaft. Saliva drips. Sucks deep, balls tight. Groans vibrate. Nearly blow. She squeezes nuts—wake-up.
Pull her up. Crush lips. She mounts. Guides cock in. Wet velvet grips. Eyes lock, defiant. Hips grind. Tits bounce. Twerks ass. Clit rubs shaft. Sweat slicks us. Thunder crashes outside. Heart pounds like drums. Urgency builds—must possess.
Storm mirrors us. She cums first—fire howl. Pussy spasms milk me. I erupt, muscles seize. Blaze rips through veins.
She collapses, shuddering. Skin fever-hot, sticky. Bite my shoulder, purrs. Rain soothes. Pull quilt over. “Stay?” “Lise hates storms.”
Calls her. Lise bursts in. “Heard you sluts from afar!” Kisses Manon deep. Sniffs: “Reeks of sex.” Strips, slides into other bed. Whispers fade. Julie yells: “We heard too!” Laughter. Lights out. Drift off, skin still burning. Unique fire scorched us raw.