Jane had never considered that fucking Tarzan was just like fucking a monkey, but she now realized it had been all along. After all, just who had Tarzan learned to fuck from? Monkeys. It all made sense to Jane now.

So, Jane sat on the riverbank and considered just how she could get Tarzan to fuck like a man.

Applying classical logic to the problem left Jane with swirling through theorem. If Cheetah is a monkey; and monkeys fuck like monkeys; then Cheetah fucks like a monkey. Simple logic. If Tarzan is a man; and men fuck like men; then why in the fuck didn’t Tarzan fuck like a man?

This all hadn’t occurred to Jane until she saw Cheetah fucking a female chimp yesterday. Cheetah fucked just like Tarzan. Gak. Yes, Tarzan must have learned to fuck from Cheetah, of course, it made perfect sense, now, Jane told herself. But Jane felt her drifting toward a solution to her problem that didn’t have strong appeal: would she have to teach Cheetah how to fuck like a man in order for Tarzan to learn how to fuck like a man? She shuttered at the thought, for how would she teach Cheetah to fuck like a man unless she showed him somehow?

Jane reminded herself that her issue wasn’t merely that Tarzan insisted on fucking her from behind, no, it wasn’t that, and it wasn’t the banana he sometimes rubbed over her pussy before he licked it (the banana), no, not that either. It had more to do with the way he never touched her breasts, his lack of interest in her nipples, how he looked for insects in her hair instead of kissing her, how he sometimes slapped her ass to make it swollen and red. It was that, and more.

She wanted just once for Tarzan to lie on top of her like Sir Edmund had before she left home. She wanted Tarzan to slide his large cock inside her and stroke her like a gentleman, like Sir Edmund. She wanted Tarzan to gallantly pull his cock from her pussy at just the right moment, and use a scented handkerchief to clean her belly of his cum.

But Tarzan wasn’t Sir Edmund. And he never would be. There were pros and cons, of course. Sir Edmund was gallant; Tarzan had a much bigger dick.

Jane pondered all this as she sat naked on the riverbank.

She was deep in thought as a swoosh of air announced his presence. Tarzan dropped down from the grapevine, dirty, sweaty, naked, his erection swinging and bounding as he rose from his squat landing with a smile.

"Jane want fuck?" he asked with a dark-toothed grin.

Jane sighed and turned her back to him and raised her ass. His long thick cock was inside her and pumping in flash.

Maybe Cheetah wouldn’t be so bad after all, she told herself as she felt him cum deep in her pussy just moments before he howled.

Tarzan had found an ant in her hair and was popping it into his mouth as he rolled onto his back beside her. "Jane good fuck," he smiled.

"Thank you, Tarzan," Jane told him, "Thank you, oh, so much."

Tarzan’s grin became even bigger as his cock grew smaller. Such are the contradictions of life, Jane thought.

copyright, 1999
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