Copyright (C) 2004 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, or archive elsewhere without the author's express permission.
Danny took a deep breath, struggled with his bonds again, then relaxed and looked down at his naked, taut-muscled body. He was sitting astride a rough-hewn bench anchored to the Central American jungle floor. Danny's rigid prong, instead of curving up sharply as it usually did when hard, jutted out parallel with the bench, the tip lashed to a stick that sloped down to the bench itself. He tested his bonds again: wrists tied behind his butt, ankles tied together under the bench. The natives -- Central American Indians who had captured Danny and his four companions -- had tied him too securely to wriggle free.
The blond teen raised his head slowly, his gaze following the bench. His cousin Ellen sat astride the far end, facing him, tied in place, her body as naked as his own. A heavy plank lay across the middle of their bench, at right angles to it.
Danny glanced to his left, at the bench that stood a foot and a half away, parallel to his and Ellen's. His older brother, Pete, sat astride the near end of that second bench, alongside Danny. Like Danny, Pete was naked, well-muscled, and stiff-pronged. Rita -- their native guide -- sat astride the far end of Pete's bench; she was also naked and bound.
A third bench crossed the other two benches at right angles, about half-way between Danny and Ellen, and half-way between Pete and Rita. Danny looked to his left and saw his and Pete's Uncle Jim, Ellen's father -- naked, bound, and hard-cocked -- sitting astride that end of the third bench. Danny studied his uncle's physique for a moment: more powerfully built than his nephews, but his musculature less sharply defined than Pete's and Danny's.
Danny glanced to his right; a pile of earth covered the rightmost end of Uncle Jim's bench. Fot a moment, he studied his cousin Ellen, felt a surge in his prong as he studied her full, firm breasts, then looked down at the pottery cylinder, the size and shape of a drinking glass with the bottom cut off, which held wide the lips of her cunt. A glance showed him that Rita had been fitted with a cylinder like Ellen's.
Looking to his left again, Danny watched his brother -- blond like Danny himself -- strain against his bonds, then relax with a growl. Danny squirmed too, feeling rough wood between his thighs. He saw that a stick, tied to Pete's glans, sloped to the bench in front of him; another stick ran from the tip of Uncle Jim's rigid shaft down to his plank. Danny glanced down, comfortably aware that his own shaft was easily an inch longer than either Pete's or Uncle Jim's. Pete, though, had the thickest shaft; Uncle Jim, the biggest balls.
"Now what?" Danny asked.
"We wait," said Rita.
"For . . . ?"
"The ants."
"Ants! Then . . ."
Pete said, "Yeah. Big ants. Like the ones the Ant Priest fed Jerry and his three pals to. So much for us going into this jungle to rescue them. Now the native Indians who caught them have caught us, and we're the ones that need rescuing."
Said Danny, "Yeah, and the Ant Priest said they weren't tied up while the ants ate them, but . . ."
"Ant Priest said true. Hands free, but legs buried in ground," said a new voice.
Danny jerked his head around, saw that the Ant Priest stood behind Pete. "You want eaten like that? Hands free, feet still tied?"
Pete said, "Yes, sure. But what if . . ."
"Stir up ants with hands, ants bite all over, not just --" The Ant Priest stroked his own stiffening prong.
"But --" said Uncle Jim.
"Not worry -- not hurt too much. We gave you to drink, make hard . . . and make not hurt too bad."
"Well, yeah," said Danny. "Untie my hands."
"Mine too," Pete said, when Danny had been untied and was shaking the stiffness out of his own arms. The Ant Priest released Pete's hands, then Uncle Jim's and the two women's when they asked to be untied too.
Moments later, Danny heard a rustle off to his right, looked, and saw a thin stream of ants advance toward the mound at the left end of the plank. He started to reach for his outthrust shaft, pulled back, and slid his hands over his bare, sweat-slick chest. And as Danny watched the ants scurry along the plank, heading for Uncle Jim's waiting shaft and balls, he remembered the orgy:
+ + +
Led by Uncle Jim, Danny and the other three had entered the jungle, looking for their friend Jerry and his three companions. Instead, they found the Ant Priest and Ant Priestess, both been naked and -- ready. Those two offered a bowl of -- of something at once bitter and sweet. And, within moments, Danny's prong had come to into a powerful hard-on. Uncle Jim, Pete, and Danny exchanged glances, then began to strip, baring three rigid, throbbing prongs. Rita and Ellen watched, then stripped too.
Pete climbed aboard the Ant Priestess, Ellen eagerly invited the Ant Priest to mount her, and Uncle Jim had mounted Rita.
Danny, feeling left out for a moment, leaned down and patted the Ant Priest's bobbing butt. The Ant Priest slowed his stroke, looked up at Danny, and nodded. Danny knelt astride the Ant Priest's thighs and slid his prong into the Ant Priest's ass, then lowered himself onto the native's back.
"Somehow this is okay," Danny said, looking over the Priest's shoulder at Ellen as the Ant Priest's lean hips began to pump again. "It's not like I was -- you know -- it's not incest with him sandwiched between us like this."
"Yeah -- how is he, anyway?" she asked.
"Tighter than any of the girls back home -- how's he taking care of you?"
"He goes in deep, and he really knows how to use it."
The Ant Priest chuckled, looked back over his shoulder at Danny, and -- without missing a stroke, said, "You in deep too."
Danny had laughed. "Y' oughta try Pete next; he won't go in as deep as me, but he's thicker."
+ + +
And Pete, as if reading Danny's mind, said, "I never did get to prong that native stud's ass."
"Yeah, but you did get to ride the Ant Priestess -- how was she?"
Pete touched his rigid shaft, then moved his hands to his thighs. "I filled her up okay -- and she was having as much fun as I was -- maybe more."
All five fell silent, watching the ants climb onto Uncle Jim's glans, bury their mandibles into his flesh, and begin to feed. As they watched Uncle Jim being eaten, they saw two streams of ants branch off and stream toward Pete and Rita.
Danny broke the silence: "If it weren't for getting -- getting eaten like this, I would of been able to out-wrestle you within a year."
"Yeah?" said Pete, sucking in his rippled abs and tensing his pecs. "Maybe so, maybe not; and since we're getting eaten, we'll never find that out. As for that long cock of yours, you'll get to feel the ants eating yours down to your balls for that much longer."
"But then I get to keep my balls that much longer." Danny turned to Rita, saw the ants reach her ceramic cylinder and march in, watched her begin to squirm. A moment later, ants climbed up the stick that led to Pete's glans. Fascinated, Danny watched the ants explore his brother's rigid shaft. Then -- one by one -- they bit into Pete's glans and started eating him. A few moments after that, Danny saw another stream trickle into Ellen's cylinder.
"Have they started -- you know?" Danny asked when he saw Ellen squirm.
"Eating me? Sure have," Ellen panted, her hands stroking her nipples. "Your cocks may be bigger than our clits, but I can sure feel the ants biting into mine -- biting into me -- it's almost a turn on, being eaten like this. Well, almost." She squirmed again, looked down, and said, "Your turn's next, Danny -- some of the things are finally going after your meat."
"Yeah," said Danny, watching the ants climb onto his own glans, feeling the tickle of their legs and antennae as the ants explored for a moment. His chest muscles tensed under his fingers as he watched -- and felt -- the ants' jaws cut into his flesh, slowly eating him alive.
After a moment, Danny glanced at Uncle Jim, who growled, "And while you kids are arguing about how long your prongs'll last, you might start worrying about what the things'll do when they get to your balls -- look what's happening to me." Danny watched ants begin cutting into his uncle's ball-bag while blood poured from his half-eaten prong.
Pete asked, "How -- how is it -- getting nutted, I mean?"
"Not -- not too bad, I think they're -- yes, the ants are cutting off my balls -- sure beats getting them eaten while they're still attached to me."
Moments later, the ants carried Uncle Jim's severed balls along the plank. As two little processions passed Danny, he leaned forward and picked up one of his uncle's balls by its cords -- with ants still attached -- then the other. Danny turned to Pete. "Want one?"
Pete shook his head, his attention focused on the ants that were eating his own prong. Danny shrugged his shoulders, popped one ball into his mouth, then the other, and began to chew.
"How do I taste?" asked Uncle Jim.
"You're -- okay," Danny said around a mouthful of his uncle's manhood. "Be better fried, maybe; but his way, I get to crunch up some of the ants too." He chewed the tender organs, tasted blood with a touch of acid, swallowed. "Nice and fresh, and the ants add some flavor to the meat." He looked down at his own shaft: his glans was melting away under the ravenous horde as still more ants climbed aboard.
"My balls sure ought ought to taste fresh," said Uncle Jim. "They're almost as fresh as they possibly could be."
"Almost?" asked Pete, looking up from the ants that had finished off his glans and were now working on his shaft.
"Almost," said Ellen. As Danny watched, she squirmed, squirmed harder, then slowly relaxed. "The freshest would be if you two hot-pronged guys did a 69-style lunch, eating each others' balls -- still attached."
"Yeah?" said Danny, licking his lips slowly. "That would be -- yeah!" He imagined his own balls being crunched between Pete's teeth, imagined biting into Pete's ball-sack. And as he did, pressure down in the roots of Danny's prong built, came to a boil, erupted suddenly as he pumped out a long spurt of ball- cream through his partly-eaten shaft. His ejaculate carried a half-dozen ants away, but more scurried onto his shaft.
Danny heard Pete gasp, turned, and saw Pete pump his load too.
"You kids shooting again -- already?" asked Uncle Jim.
"Hey, it's been over an hour since our last fuck," said Danny, trying to sound indignant.
"And besides, it's what Ellen said that set us off," said Pete. "He glanced at Danny. "Were you thinking --"
"-- about what I was thinking?" Danny let his hands slide down the hard ripple of his abdominal muscles, touched the base of his prong. "Yeah. Me too." He licked his lips, grinned at Pete, who grinned back.
Danny turned to Ellen. "Cousin, you've got a wicked mind."
Ellen, squirming again, but slowly now, grinned back. "What do you expect? Finally getting to see how you and Pete look, up hard and ready to go, watching Pete climb onto -- and slide into -- the Ant Priestess -- remembering the Ant Priest taking me, remembering how he got turned on when you pronged his butt . . ."
+ + +
For a moment, Danny watched the ants feed on his brother's shaft, then looked up and saw the ants were boring into his uncle's crotch.
"They're inside, now," Uncle Jim reported, "starting to eat my prostate, and that feels really weird." He squirmed, his muscles tensing, relaxing, then going taut again. "I'm trying to shoot, and I don't have anything left to shoot with, but I'm going to shoot anyway." He gasped aloud, body rigid, then relaxed with a long sigh. "That was really, really weird."
"Then -- you did?" asked Pete.
"I did. Last time I'll do that, but . . ."
Danny chuckled, then said, "And you were complaining about us being horny?"
"Depends."
"On?" asked Danny.
"On whether you shoot again when they're eating this deep inside you two youngsters."
When the ants severed Pete's balls, Danny reached over to Pete's bench and picked them up. "Want 'em?"
"You go ahead."
"Sure." Danny popped both into his mouth and ate them while the ants finished off his shaft and cut loose his own balls. He picked them up and asked, "Hungry yet?"
"Just one," said Pete.
"Enjoy." Danny passed a testicle to Pete, put the other into his mouth. The naked brothers chewed silently for a moment, swallowed, then turned to each other.
"Well?" asked Danny.
"Not bad, not bad," Pete said. "Might of been interesting, what Ellen suggested, though."
"Eating each other, 69-style?" Danny shivered. "Be more fun, eating and being eaten by the Ant Priest like that."
"Yeah?" Pete grinned. "I got a better idea: get him to fuck us in the holes those ants are boring into our crotches."
"Got lots better idea," said the Ant Priest. He gestured at a couple of naked, hard-cocked Indian youths. "When ants finish, we untie your feet. You lie down side by side. We fuck you in the holes ants eated -- no, ate into you. After that --"
"You take us to your village, and cook and eat us there," said Pete.
"Like you said you cooked and ate Jerry and Dirk and Miguel and their guide," said Danny. "Well, I suppose that beats running around without our balls and cocks -- at least, I hope it does."
"Especially as long-pronged as you three studs are," said Pete. "Fucking us oughta work up a good appetite, too."
"And that won't be long," Uncle Jim said. "It looks like the ants have gone as far into my guts as they want to -- mine are heading out already."
Danny looked at Uncle Jim, saw that the stream of ants going in had thinned to a trickle, then stopped altogether, while the outgoing stream -- each ant carrying a bloody chunk of flesh -- was thinning too. He glanced down at his own bleeding crotch. "My ants are still hungry," Danny said. "And whatever they're doing now is turning me on all over again."
"Me too," Pete repoprted, starting to squirm again. "Eating my prostate gland, more than likely; and I'm trying to shoot one more time while they're doing it."
"But when they do finish eating us --"
"Then getting fucked before we get cooked sounds like a hot idea."
"So," Danny said, feeling his muscles tighten up again, "let's go for it."