X-Men: Savage Land Scandal Ch. 01

"May I touch yours?" he asked, eying the gleaming gold hair that marked her as strange both to soldier and tribesman.

She nodded tightly, a hint of that old violent anticipation in her eyes. Bolstered by both her approval and his always-approving power-of-man, Zar reached out and ran his finger down a strand of hair that had fallen cross her forehead. He tried to, at least. In his clumsiness, he more batted it around like a cat with a piece of string. She smiled, and imitated the motion, swiping her finger through the bush of his wiry hair.

Somehow unfretted, he circled his finger until the lock of hair was whirled around it, amazed at how fine and delicate it seemed. Was there anything else he could touch so slender that would not be ripped apart by the gentlest breath? It seemed as impossible as balancing a rock on a spider-web, but there it was, wrapped around his finger.

"Touch more of me," she said, and it wasn't either a command or a question, but a bit of both. Zar unspooled his finger from the curl he'd put in her hair, moving his hand down over that wonderfully balanced face, its symmetry both delicate and stone-hewn, the eyes tipping it from the innocent challenge of a girl-child to the aggression of a tiger. Her skin was even finer to the touch than her hair, and he envied all who would come to touch her for being able to feel this for the first time.

Her lips parted. Her tongue peeked out of her mouth. And then she said the worst thing she could have said "Your loincloth is moving."

Zar looked down, though there was no need. "I'm sorry, my power-of-man comes sometimes when it is not needed..."

"Cock," Shanna said simply.

"What?"

"It's a cock." Her hand opened. "I know what to do with cocks."

Even his power-of-man was silent as she reached down and pulled aside the flap of his loincloth, exposing his full length. Zar hoped she did not find him too unsightly. He knew her people tended toward smaller endowments, and could only hope she did not find him grotesquely oversized. What if she told him he would not fit!?

"I'm sorry, I forgot to ask. May I touch you there?"

Zar's power-of-man roared back to life. "Yes!" it said through his lips.

Trepidation leaving her, she smiled confidently and grasped him. Immediately he was shocked into ecstasy. He had always enjoyed his own touch during the polishing-of-the-spear, but Shanna seemed to know how to touch him better than he knew himself! Her grip was both soft and sure, growing warmer as she clenched and relaxed her hold to get comfortable. He groaned and bucked his hips without meaning to. And seeing his delight, Shanna started to rub.

Zar closed his eyes. He did not think he could stand both the sight of Shanna in all her glory and the way she was touching him. She easily surpassed his own awkward fumbling for orgasm with a swift, sure hold that ran up from the base of his cock, tapered down the head, and then ran back down the shaft. It was exquisite, her curled fingers seeming to give every bit of his manhood wonderful attention. She knew exactly how to hold him, stroke him, caress him, and pleasure him. And she soon learned that moving her hand faster just made things better on his end. Shanna liked making things better for him.

"You may touch me as well," she offered, drawing up the flap of her loincloth to reveal her own needy sex, carefully shaven to resemble the women in the hidden magazines. "Sometimes I become wet down there when I think of you. I am wet right now. I hope it doesn't bother you."

Zar didn't hear her question. Zar wouldn't have heard a T-rex roaring three feet behind him. He was dead to the world, all the consciousness in his body dragged out of its proper flesh to be crammed into his cock (as the outsiders called it). Shanna was stuffing him in tighter and tighter, her hand making a sweet prison for him, and it was shaking apart as she went faster. Zar could never remember being so hard, his power-of-man so loud, an inarticulate scream to possess her and worship her and punish her and mate her. The thinnest strand connected it to the feeling of the polishing-of-the-spear, but it was so much more intense, there was no way to compare the two. He thought he might die, it felt so good.

And he wouldn't have cared one bit.

"Zar, are you alright?" Shanna asked, and when he opened his eyes to see that lovely concerned face and fine young teats and the ready pink lips of her femininity, his power-of-man roared louder than ever before. Like the great volcano he erupted, his seed flung mightily, landing as high as Shanna's shoulder and as far as the water of the lagoon. His man-roar seemed to last an entire moon, draining him of all lifeforce even as it freed his spirit to expand back into his body and feel the aching pleasure encasing him. But finally, he was himself again, and his indefatigable manhood lay fallen against his thigh, a waning drip of seed the only sign of life.

She had killed his power-of-man!

Shanna seemed satisfied with his... outburst, daintily licking a dollop from her shoulder and swishing it around her mouth to know its taste. Her verdict didn't show on her face; she only nodded to herself. Then she shucked her top-covering and laid down upon the beach, her spread legs easily overcoming her loincloth's modesty. He could see all of her, from the grand red nipples that crowned her glorious breasts, to the blessing-of-woman that blazed like a setting sun with her own arousal. He even saw the small puckered hole of disposal, which some hunters claimed could be pillaged as pleasurably as the breeding-hole, or more so. Shanna, all of her, was laid out before him like a tender roast on a spit, the meat only needing the lightest bite to be devoured.

"And now touching?" she asked, licking him from her fingers just as she had the fish-grease. Evidently, his taste met with her favor.

But Zar's power-of-man, which sometimes rose three or four times no matter how hard he polished the spear, would not wake. He was afraid. Afraid of not being able to give her the same pleasure she had just given him, afraid of her coyly knowing look turning to one of disgust when she learned what kind of touching he so deeply desired--afraid of not being able to fit. He could not summon the courage, and even if he could, his power-of-man would not obey him. He had to leave, leave before she came to remember him this way, a scared little boy of no real hunts who had not the power-of-man to mate a woman in the proper fashion.

Scrambling in a sudden panic, Zar adjusted his loincloth so it once more covered him. "I must go!" he said quickly, and when she looked at him quizzically, he repeated himself even faster, to sound like a bird squawking. "Imustgo!"

And he ran into the jungle so fast that Shanna looked around for the raptor swarm that must have scared him so. There was none to be found.

Remembering Doc's lessons on modesty, Shanna once more draped herself. She licked her shoulder clean, like a cat would, deciding that although it was a very new taste, she quite liked the flavor of the sap that came from cock.

She wondered if all men had such tasty sap inside them.

***

Zar could not believe his own stupidity. He wanted to run back to the lagoon and see if Shanna was still there, beg her to disregard his ridiculous cowardice. Certainly, his power-of-man had been exhausted... that did not mean he couldn't have used his fingers or tongue upon her. Hadn't he always thought to himself how diligently, how lovingly he would attend to a woman's pleasure in such a way, if only a woman would deign to have him? Not like the older hunters, who merely wanted to satisfy their power-of-man and then cast aside their women like dirty rags. Well, at least those hunters gave their women some small measure of satisfaction. All he'd given Shanna was probably a sore wrist!

What was wrong with him? Something had to be wrong with him. He was handsome enough—he thought. Long limbs, some muscles, he washed his hair each day... he wasn't even that bad a hunter. He could probably bring down a Gallimimus by himself if the older hunters weren't there to beat him to it. So why was it that when it came to Shanna, he went down like a compy in a tar pit?

All the other hunters got to be predators with their mates—wooing them, courting them, seducing them. With Shanna, he felt like the prey. Blinded like he'd gotten a face full of Dilophosaurus bile. It wouldn't be so bad—nothing about what Shanna had done to his power-of-man had been bad, except the idiot he'd made of himself after—but didn't Shanna deserve a hunter? A big, strong man to protect her and take care of her? Well... a strong man, at least? Zar could do nothing about the few inches she scaled over him.

Zar had just resolved to return to the village and practice with his spear until he was worthy of Shanna, when he heard a rumble behind him. A deep, almost volcanic rumble.

The growl of the sabretooth tiger.

Zar was not such an idiot that he did not carry his trusty stone knife with him at all times. His hand dropped to his hip, where it was strung to his loincloth. Carefully, he began to draw it. An insane part of himself that sounded much as his power-of-man had spoke excitedly of how this was sure to impress Shanna... assuming he survived.

Then he heard the second growl coming from alongside him and knew the only way he would impress Shanna was if he left behind a good-looking corpse.