Curse of the Tan Tan

Philip collapsed on the ground under the weight of the beast when he was just a few feet away from the satchel. He stretched out his hand and felt the leather of the satchel. But he saw a long, heavily muscled, hairy arm reach up and a strong fist closely around his wrist, and he was being pulled back. Fully covering Philip's back, the beast wrapped his arms around Philip's chest and stomach and was pulling him up onto his knees, hugging Philip's shoulder blades into its hunky pecs, holding Philip close to its chest. A hand went down to Philip's belly and then on down and took a firm grip under Philip's exposed balls and pulled Philip's hips upward along its own heaving belly.

Philip screamed as he felt the size of the beast's gigantic mushroom cap at the entrance of his ass canal, and then he cried and moaned, "No, no, no," as the beast brought him slowly down and down and down onto the semen-slick monster tool, impaling his ass canal on an impossibly long and thick—and well-lubricated—cock.

The beast had Philip entirely under his control now. Philip's ass was skewered firmly on its cock and his arms held the American close to its chest. They were erect, on their knees, but the beast was able to slide Philip up and down on its torso at will. The beast was simply too big and strong for the pampered American. Philip, arms flailing until they became too heavy and just hung down his side, gasped and groaned and heaved and panted and cried out as he descended on the beast's throbbing manhood. But the beast was almost gentle now. He was pulling Philip onto him slowly, making an effort to let Philip stretch as best he could, and he was nuzzling Philip's neck with his mouth, giving him a long kiss there on the throbbing artery stretching down his neck, just under the surface of the skin. A kiss of lips and tongue and then teeth.

The teeth. The teeth. It felt like only pin pricks, but increasingly Philip felt the sucking sensation, the feeling of flowing. His blood, flowing out of him. Draining from him.

The beast was making a low humming sound, a soothing sound—almost a lullaby tune. Enjoying its feeding in every way. And, having bottomed out and given Philip's passage walls an opportunity to stretch to him, the beast began lifting and lowering Philip on that massive cock. the black silk cape was rippling around the two of them, caressing Philip's bare arms and shoulders. One of the beast's large hands encased one of Philip's pecs and a thumb and forefinger were applying and releasing pressure on a nipple to match the rhythm of the gentle fucking and sucking. the beast's other palm was on Philip's lower belly, holding the young American close to him, and long sensuous fingers stretched to either side of Philip's cock and applying rhythmic pressure to veins at the base of Philip's cock that caused him to harden and ejaculate quickly and then harden quickly again and ejaculate again.

For the first time in his life, Philip did not have control. He was being played and drained. Completely defenseless and becoming increasingly so.

Philip was losing interest in escaping. The fuck was glorious, and he was growing weaker and more disoriented, but, at the same time, rising in arousal. The beast was filling him, deep, with one long, flowing ejaculation. And Philip's own cock was being milked again and again with great expertise and satisfaction.

Philip's head lolled to one side. He was loving the feeling of the flowing of the blood from him to the beast; he felt like they were one, supreme, well-oiled fucking unit. He knew why Harun had the silly, satiated smile on his face. On and on the beast was fucking up into him, reaching new depths with each slow pump. And flowing. Not a single, jerky cum shot spouting, but a flowing of warming essences. Philip's blood was being exchanged with a flowing of numbing semen.

The young American was drifting off and he was doing so with only the mild regret that he might not be able to feel the full effect of the total, possessing fuck if he lost consciousness.

But then there was a howling screech, and a tearing sensation at both throat and ass as the beast lurched and jerked this way and then and pulled out of and away from Philip and went racing out of the room in an awkward, bent-over lope with a deafening scream. Philip just collapsed on the floor, too tired and drained to move. But his eyes flitted open . . . to find that the room was now bathed in light streaming in from the chinks in the crumbling walls.

Philip lay there for some time, maybe even hours. He had no idea how long he was there. He only knew that slowly, slowly his strength was coming back to him. He managed to drag himself to the center of the room and eat and drink from the provisions he'd brought in. And, eventually, he was able to stand and to walk. He gathered up the satchel, remembering to fumble around and extract the gun he'd placed there.

Then, holding the gun in front of him with trembling hand, he tentatively moved out of the room. He instinctively moved from one well-lit spot to the next, not even consciously knowing why, just knowing somehow that that was an important thing for him to do. He could see his vehicle, the Beast, under its cover when he emerged from the building. He didn't fully comprehend what it was at first, but he slowly fixated on the knowledge that the Beast was his salvation and that they had parked it here for its safety. That's how he thought of it—that "they" had left the Beast there. But he was all muddled now. Who were the "they"? Had he come here with someone or had he come alone? He couldn't quite be clear on that. There certainly was no one else about now. And what had happened? He knew he was incredibly weak and that his ass felt like raw hamburger and his inner thighs felt sticky, but he couldn't fully comprehend what had happened—or how long ago it had happened. Everything was still a hazy blur. Oh, why did he feel so weak?

Something about driving to Dakar, though. He looked at the maps he had with him, and, sure enough, a road was marked that ended in Dakar. Well, he'd just get in the Beast and start driving in that direction. Maybe somewhere down the road his ears would stop ringing and he'd remember more.

But he wasn't even sure he wanted to remember more.