Jane Stalwart and the Lost World Chapter 4

Jane Stalwart and the Lost World

A Stalwart Universe Story

Copyright 2026 by Stormbringer

 

Chapter Four: Prisoners of the Sex-Starved Amazons

 

Jim Crowe and Wilhelm stood back-to-back, their weapons empty, sweat trickling down their brows as the jungle’s humid breath clung to their skin. They were surrounded by the ripped apart bodies of Wilhelm’s comrades and bullet-riddled dead velociraptors. From the shadows of the prehistoric ferns emerged a sight that made Jim’s jaw drop and Wilhelm muttered a stunned “Mein Gott.”

They were surrounded by female warriors, copper-skinned Latinas, some of the most breathtaking women Jim had ever laid eyes on. Tall and lithe, their smooth, glistening bodies bore the unmistakable mark of Vril radiation: large, well-rounded breasts that strained against their scant armor, and bright green eyes, a stark contrast to the dark, soulful gaze typical of Latins. Their beauty was wild, primal, and intoxicating, enhanced by the strange, exotic gear they wore.

Their attire was a riot of color and texture. Some donned capes adorned with vibrant feathers—scarlet, azure, and gold. One warrior sported a helmet crafted from the skull of a baby triceratops, its tiny frill framing her fierce face. Another wore a saber-tooth skull, its elongated canines gleaming menacingly. Others had bronze helmets crested with feathers, lending them an air of regal savagery. Their weapons were equally eclectic: round shields of leather and wood, wooden axes with gleaming bronze blades, long spears tipped with obsidian, and clubs studded with razor-sharp black stone that caught the dim light like wet glass. Some wore armor of tough dinosaur leather, molded to their curves, while others sported bronze breastplates and short skirts that barely concealed their muscular thighs.

But strangest of all were the long, erect penis attachments jutting from their crotches. Crafted from what appeared to be carved wood, dyed in vibrant hues or left natural, they protruded boldly through fur or leather skirts. It was as if these women had claimed the role of males in their society, their phalluses a symbol of power and dominance. Jim’s eyes widened at the sight, his mind racing with a mix of awe and primal curiosity.

Two of the Amazons parted, and Jim’s gaze locked onto one who stepped forward, her eyes fixed on him. She was different from the others, her skin a rich, deep brown, darker than her copper-toned sisters, and her presence commanding. She wore a helmet fashioned from a black Smilodon head, its snarling jaws framing her face, and a cape of sleek black fur cascaded down her back, swaying with each confident step. Her breastplates weren’t bronze but gold, gleaming like the sun itself, with two large rubies embedded at their centers, winking like swollen nipples. Her bare belly was taut and sexy, a dark navel piercing the smooth expanse of skin. From her crotch thrust one of the larger penis attachments, dyed black to match her skin, pushing through a patch of black fur that barely concealed her mound. She stopped before Jim, her bright green eyes boring into his, and tapped his chest with a calloused finger.

“Zambo?” she asked, her voice low and husky, tinged with a questioning lilt.

Jim tapped his own chest, meeting her gaze. “Jim,” he replied, his deep voice steady despite the pounding of his heart.

She tilted her head, studying him, then nodded once, as if satisfied. Before he could say more, the other Amazons closed in, their spears prodding at Jim and Wilhelm’s backs and sides. The sharp tips pressed just hard enough to urge them forward, and with no choice but to comply, the two men began to march. The Amazons moved with them, a silent, graceful escort through the dense jungle. Hours passed, the oppressive heat weighing on Jim’s enhanced muscles, his soaked over stretched T-shirt clinging to his broad chest. Wilhelm stumbled occasionally, his pale face flushed red, but the Amazons showed no mercy, their spears insistent.

The march was punctuated by the occasional roar of some unseen beast, prompting the Amazons to crouch low, their green eyes scanning the foliage. At one point a strange armored dinosaur crashed through the undergrowth nearby, its club like tail sweeping back and forth behind it. Bullock might have known what it was, but Jim had never had the fascination with dinosaurs that so many young boys did. The Amazons froze, hands tightening on their weapons, but the creature passed without noticing them, and the march resumed.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows through the trees, the jungle began to thin. The foliage parted like a curtain, revealing a sight that stole the breath from both men. Before them sprawled a city out of time—an Incan marvel of stone and sweat, its terraces and walls rising from the earth in perfect symmetry. At its heart loomed a colossal step pyramid, its tiers climbing toward the sky, each level adorned with carvings of dinosaurs, prehistoric beasts, and stylized phalluses. The city buzzed with life, but as Jim’s eyes swept the scene, he realized something startling: there were no men. Only women moved through the streets—tall, copper-skinned, and radiant, their green eyes glinting in the fading light. They carried baskets, tended to private gardens, or wove cloth, their bodies often topless or wearing cotton shifts dyed with a Mesoamerican pattern. Only the warrior class seemed to wear the penis attachments.

Jim and Wilhelm stared in amazement, their exhaustion forgotten. The sun sank lower, its golden rays bathing the pyramid’s peak, crowning it with a fiery halo. The Amazons prodded them forward again, and the two captives stumbled into the city, their fates uncertain but their senses overwhelmed by the sheer alien beauty of this lost world. The air thrummed with the promise of danger and something far more primal as the Amazons herded their new prizes toward the heart of their domain

**********

Jane woke to the symphony of the jungle, chirps, hoots, and the distant roar of some unseen beast. She stretched languorously on the soft mattress of Pa-oola’s bed, her nude body arching as the morning sun filtered through the treehouse’s open walls, warming her pale skin. The scent of last night’s passion lingered faintly, mingling with the earthy aroma of the surrounding forest. She sat up, running a hand through her raven-black hair, and glanced down to the lower deck.

Paula was already awake, her lithe, naked form bent over a wooden table. Her dagger was stabbed into the surface, pinning down a strip of glistening snakeskin. The jungle girl’s blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders as she worked, her green eyes focused on her task. “Morning,” Jane called, her British accent crisp in the humid air.

“Morning,” Pa-oola replied, looking up with a warm smile. She leaned up, her breasts swaying slightly, and pressed a soft kiss to Jane’s lips. “Have a swim while I finish.”

Jane nodded, peering over the edge. Paula was using a fishbone needle to sew together strips of the giant snake that had almost killed Jane. The skin shimmered in the light, iridescent and tough, a pattern unfamiliar to the well-traveled adventurer. Jane turned, took a breath, and dove off the upper deck, slicing cleanly into the pool below. The cool water enveloped her, washing away the last vestiges of sleep. She swam toward the waterfall, where the basket of berries still sat from the day before. Grabbing a handful, she rubbed the fragrant paste into her hair and over her skin, the scent of jasmine and rose filling her nostrils as she cleansed herself.

Refreshed, Jane climbed back to the upper deck, water dripping from her nude form. Paula greeted her with two wooden bowls filled with a vibrant mix of greens, nuts, and berries. “For you,” the jungle girl said, holding up her latest creation, a snakeskin outfit fashioned into a daring two-piece. The top consisted of triangular patches that would cover perhaps half of Jane’s ample breasts, tied with thin strips behind her back and neck. It offered scant coverage but would keep her buxom chest from bouncing too much during their trek. The bottom was equally minimal: a strip of skin to shield her crotch, with a thong running up between her rear cheeks and tying at her waist. Small loincloth flaps hung from the front and back, the front larger, the back barely concealing the tops of her firm cheeks.

Jane slipped into the outfit, the cool snakeskin hugging her curves. She watched as Paula climbed back to her bedroom platform and rummaged through a bamboo chest. The jungle girl pulled out small pieces of skin clothing resembling Jane’s, revealing an entire collection of her scant jungle attire. She seemed to care about matching, finally selecting a green-and-black patterned set that mimicked iguanas Jane had encountered in Mexico. Paula dressed quickly, her toned body slipping into the familiar garb with practiced ease.

They sat at the table, digging into their salads with their fingers. Jane paused, lifting a leafy green to examine it closely. “Fascinating,” she mused.

Paula glanced over, chewing a berry. “Safe to eat. Been eating it since Zambo and I stranded here.”

Jane’s brow furrowed, then her eyes lit up with recognition. “It resembles silphium, an extinct plant from the ferula genus. The city of Cyrene minted its image on coins; it was so valuable. Pliny the Elder claimed it was worth its weight in denarii. The last known stalk was presented to Emperor Nero. Most famously, it was used as a contraceptive.” She turned her attention on Paula. The plant answered a few questions that had been tugging at her brain. “You never got pregnant?”

Paula’s green eyes widened. “No,” Paula said, her voice soft with surprise. “I thought I was barren. I wanted to give Zambo a child, but he thought it was for the best, given the dangers of Maple White Land. How do you know these things?”

Jane smiled, popping a nut into her mouth. “I’ve got a good memory. If possible, I’d like a few of these seeds?”

“I can get you some.”

Their meal was interrupted by a sudden thud as a canvas bag hit the table. Both women jumped, looking up to see Jocko, the lizard-monkey, screeching from a branch above. Jane’s face broke into a delighted grin. “My pack!” she exclaimed. Inside were the lead containers for the Vril, matches, a compass, a canteen, an Enfield No. 2 revolver, and other supplies. “Good Jocko,” she cooed, then froze as the creature swung down, clutching a pistol and pointing it at her as it hung by its tail from the branch.

Paula acted swiftly, grabbing a fruit from the table and holding it out. “Here, Jocko,” she said soothingly. The lizard-monkey chittered, dropped the gun into Paula’s hand, and snatched the fruit before scampering back up the tree. Jane sighed with relief, picking up the pistol—a 1911 .45 caliber, standard-issue U.S. Army. She checked the magazine: empty, ammo spent, the faint smell of gunpowder came from the barrel.

“Some of the crew must have survived,” Jane said, her mind flashing back to a sultry night in a Cuban alley, Jim Crowe’s strong hands on her hips, his thick cock filling her mouth as she knelt before him. She shook the memory away, focusing on Paula. “Pa-oola, can you take me back to where my parachute landed?”

“Yes,” Paula replied, “but it’s hook-claw territory. We stick to the treetops.”

“Not a problem,” Jane said, adjusting her new snakeskin outfit. “Let’s go.”

**********

The Amazons forced Jim Crowe and Wilhelm to remove their clothes as they entered the city, their spears prodding insistently until the men complied. Jim stripped off his soaked T-shirt and pants, revealing his enhanced, muscular frame, while Wilhelm fumbled with his uniform, his pale skin flushing under the scrutiny. Naked, they were marched forward through the Incan city toward the towering step pyramid that dominated the skyline. The streets were alive with women, copper-skinned beauties with glowing green eyes, their stares hungry and unashamed as they lined up along the stone paths. Their gazes fixed on the two men, particularly on their long, dangling cocks swinging with each step.

Wilhelm’s wasn’t as massive as Jim’s, but it was still impressive, ten inches soft, slapping from thigh to thigh as he walked, his face burning with embarrassment. Jim’s, however, was a monster, nearly a foot long even flaccid, swaying like a pendulum and drawing gasps and cheers from the crowd. The women beat their chests and clapped, their voices rising in a rhythmic chant that praised both the warriors and their captives. Feathers fluttered from their capes, and the clatter of obsidian-tipped clubs against shields filled the air.

“How does a city exist vith only vomen?” Wilhelm muttered, his German accent thick with confusion as he tried to cover himself with his hands.

Jim smirked, his deep voice steady despite the situation. “Judging from the way they’re staring at our Johnsons, we’re about to find out.”

“Johnsons?” Wilhelm asked, brow furrowing.

“Our Bratwursts,” Jim clarified, nodding toward his own impressive endowment. He noticed it had swelled and risen slightly from all the admiration it was getting.

The pyramid loomed closer, its massive stone steps rising into the sky. Jim noticed it was built on the edge of the plateau, beyond its base, he caught glimpses of clouds drifting below, a surreal reminder that they were perched on the rim of the Lost World, suspended well above the Amazon basin. The city itself was a marvel: tiered terraces lined with lush gardens, stone aqueducts channeling water, and intricately carved walls depicting dinosaurs, serpents, and phallic totems. Women bustled everywhere, tending fires, weaving baskets, sharpening weapons, but not a single man was in sight.

The Amazons herded them into a grand palace adjacent to the pyramid, its walls adorned with vibrant murals of warrior women triumphing over dinosaurs and men alike. They were shoved into a room with bamboo bars on the door, locking them in like prized beasts. A barred window offered a view of the pyramid’s peak, now glowing faintly in the twilight. Through the door, Jim could see Amazons heating rocks over a fire and dropping them into a pit of water, sending plumes of steam billowing upward.

“Are they going to eat us?” Wilhelm asked, his voice trembling as he pressed himself against the bars.

Jim chuckled, peering out. “I think they’re preparing a hot bath.”

Moments later, three Amazons approached, their green eyes glinting with intent. They unlocked the door and gestured for Wilhelm, who shrank back. “I’ve never been with a voman,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Crowe grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s easy, kid. In and out, repeat if necessary.”

Wilhelm swallowed hard as the women pulled him out, leaving Jim behind. A guard, a tall, copper-skinned warrior with a feathered cape and a bronze breastplate took up position by Jim’s door, her spear resting casually against her shoulder. Jim watched through the bars as Wilhelm was led into the next room, a space filled with woven rugs and low divans. Five nude Amazons awaited him, their bodies glistening with sweat and adorned only with feather bracelets. They carried bowls of fruit and nuts, and one offered Wilhelm a bowl filled with a cloudy liquid. He hesitated, then drank deeply, grimacing at the taste.

The women guided him to a steaming stone tub, helping him lower himself into the water. He scrubbed himself clean under their watchful eyes, and when he climbed out, his cock stood rock-hard, jutting out impressively from his lean frame. The Amazons cooed in approval, one kneeling to rub aromatic oils into his skin while another dropped to her knees and took his erection into her mouth. Wilhelm gasped, his hands flailing before settling on her shoulders. He came quickly, his hips jerking as his semen spurted. A third woman held a bowl beneath him, catching his load, while the one sucking him pulled back and spat her mouthful into the same vessel. They hurried off with the bowl, their movements purposeful, leaving Wilhelm dazed but still hard.

Jim watched, a twinge of jealousy stirring as an Amazon straddled Wilhelm, riding him with abandon. Later, he mounted another, his thrusts awkward but eager, and as he positioned himself to take a third from behind, the black Amazon from earlier stepped into Jim’s room, dismissing Jim’s guard with a sharp gesture. She was helmetless now, her straightened hair, clearly of African origin, falling in a sleek cascade down her back. She still wore her golden breastplates, the ruby “nipples” glinting, and the black fur around her crotch with its massive dyed-black penis attachment jutting out.

She stared at Jim, her green eyes dropping to his semi-hard cock, swollen from watching the orgy next door. She tapped her chest. “Mamami,” she said, then pointed at him. “Jim.”

Jim nodded. “Mamami, it’s beautiful,” he said, flashing a smile. She returned it, her teeth strikingly white against her dark skin.

Mamami reached through the bars, her strong, calloused fingers wrapping around Jim’s cock. He stepped closer pushing it through the bamboo bars. She stroked him with slow, deliberate pressure, coaxing him to full erection. He groaned, watching her hand glide along his length—now a solid fifteen inches, thick as a wrist and pulsing with heat. Her own “cock” protruded through the bars beside his, matching his size in an uncanny parallel. She squeezed him firmly, pulling him closer, then knelt, her full lips parting as her tongue darted out to tease his swollen crown. She swirled it around the sensitive ridge, tasting the salty bead of precum that glistened there, before enveloping him in her warm, wet mouth. Her lips stretched wide to accommodate his girth, and she sucked with a hungry intensity, her cheeks hollowing as she took him deeper. Her tongue danced along the underside of his shaft, flicking and pressing against the thick vein, while her hand gripped the base, stroking what she couldn’t fit. Jim’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the bamboo bars as she bobbed her head, her saliva coating his length in a slick sheen. She pulled back briefly, letting his cock spring free with a wet pop, and lapped at the tip, her green eyes locked on his, daring him to lose control. She pressed her lips on the tip showing her respect for his cock with a kiss.

Rising, she unhooked her golden breastplates, letting them clatter to the floor, revealing heavy, firm breasts with dark, erect nipples that begged to be touched. She untied the sides of her fur diaper, carefully setting her massive penis attachment aside without missing a beat, her focus still on Jim. Her nude black body gleamed in the dim light, her athletic figure sculpted by years of jungle survival. She licked her lips, turned, and bent over, backing her glistening black slit up to the bars. Jim lined himself up, sliding his tip through the gap and pressing it against her soaked folds. He pushed in slowly, savoring the tight, velvety heat that gripped him as her pussy stretched to take his monstrous size. Mamami gasped, her hands braced against the stone floor, her body trembling with the intrusion. A long, satisfied moan escaped her lips.

The bamboo gaps were wide enough for Jim to reach through and grab her hips, holding her in place, his strong hands digging into her firm flesh as he began to thrust. He started slow, letting her adjust, but soon picked up speed, slamming into her with a force that made her moan, a deep, guttural sound that echoed in the steamy air. Her pussy clenched around him, slick and hot, and she pushed back to meet each thrust, her ass jiggling with the impact.

Mamami’s first orgasm hit hard, her body shuddering as her inner walls spasmed around his cock. She cried out, a wild, primal sound, her juices flooding over him, dripping down her thighs. Jim didn’t relent, pounding into her with relentless rhythm, his enhanced stamina driving her higher. Her second climax followed swiftly, her knees buckling as she gripped the floor, her pussy squeezing him so tight he nearly lost it. “Oh, fuck,” he growled, feeling her tremble beneath his hands, her gasps turning to whimpers of pleasure. He shifted his angle, hitting a spot deep inside her, and her third orgasm ripped through her, her back arching as she screamed, her fluids gushing around his shaft in a hot, messy torrent. Her satisfaction fueled his own desire, and he thrust harder, his balls tightening as he reached his peak. “Here it comes, you sexy mama,” he grunted, his voice rough with need. She wiggled her firm rear, catching his drift despite the language barrier, her breath coming in sharp pants.

With a final, powerful slam, Jim erupted, his enhanced nuts unleashing a torrent of semen that flooded her womb. The sheer volume and force quadrupled the intensity of his orgasm, a mind-blowing rush that left him gasping, his cock pulsing as he pumped rope after rope of thick cum into her. Mamami came again, her fourth climax triggered by his release, her body convulsing as she milked him dry, her pussy overflowing with their combined fluids. She fell forward, crawling around to kneel again, her lips kissing and slobbering over his still-hard dick. She sucked greedily, drawing out the last drops of his seed, then stuck out her tongue to show him the creamy load before swallowing it with a satisfied gulp, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Rising, she smiled at him, pressing a hand to her belly as if savoring the gift he’d given her, a gesture both tender and possessive. She dressed in silence, breastplates, fur, and phallus reattached, then turned and left, her hips swaying with quiet confidence. The guard returned moments later, resuming her post by the bars, her eyes drifting to the still-raging orgy in the next room. Wilhelm was lost in a tangle of copper-skinned limbs, his stamina apparently endless. Jim shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. Figuring he’d earned it, he settled onto the floor, closed his eyes, and let sleep claim him, the sounds of pleasure fading into the jungle night.

**********

Jane and Paula reached the parachute site as the midday sun blazed overhead, casting harsh shadows through the tattered remains of the white chute still tangled in the branches above. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid sting of gunpowder; remnants of a brutal skirmish etched into the jungle floor. Jane’s sharp blue eyes scanned the scene, her snakeskin outfit clinging to her sweat-slicked body as she crouched to inspect the ground. Paula, her green-and-black iguana-patterned attire equally damp, stood beside her, her green eyes narrowing as she took in the carnage, occasionally sweeping their surroundings for danger.

The site bore the scars of a fierce battle against the large velociraptors. Spent shell casings littered the earth alongside fragments of torn uniforms[DL1] , mostly German, stamped with the occasional eagle and ripped swastika armband of the Third Reich their camouflage patterns shredded and stained with dark, dried blood. A discarded MP40 lay half-buried in the dirt, its magazine empty, and a broken bayonet glinted nearby, snapped clean in two. Amid the debris, a dead hook-claw sprawled, its lithe, muscular body riddled with bullet holes, its wicked sickle-shaped claw still raised as if frozen in mid-strike. Another lay dead nearby, a single obsidian-tipped arrow protruded from its neck, the green venom glistening on its shaft.

Paula knelt beside the raptor, her fingers deftly grasping the arrow. With a firm tug, she pulled it free, the wound oozing a sluggish trickle of dark blood. She held the arrow up, examining the craftsmanship. “The Amazons have him,” she said, her voice low and certain.

Jane was already scouting the ground, her keen mind piecing together the story written in the dirt. Amid the chaos of claw marks and scuffs, she spotted numerous flat-footed sandal prints—wide and evenly spaced, Amazons, she assumed. Interspersed among them were two distinct sets of boot prints, one larger and heavier, the other slimmer, heading off in a clear direction through the undergrowth. She pointed toward the trail. “That way.”

Paula nodded, her expression grim. “Inti Warmi Marka, the Amazon city.”

Jane’s brown furrowed. “Inti Warmi Marka, the city of the sun women,” she mumbled.

 They will drain his seed dry and sacrifice him when the sun is at its highest.”

“Then we hurry,” Jane said, rising to her feet, her tone resolute. She adjusted the straps of her snakeskin top, her breasts shifting slightly beneath the scant covering, and checked her Enfield revolver out of habit.

Paula glanced up at the sun, its golden disc already creeping toward its zenith, casting a relentless glare over the jungle. “I fear we are too late,” she murmured, her brow furrowing with worry. “City many hours away.”

Jane’s jaw tightened, her mind flashing to Jim Crowe, his strong hands, his deep voice, the memory of their heated encounter in that Cuban alley. She felt a connection to the dashing black pilot that went deeper than sex. She couldn’t let him face such a fate. “Not if I have anything to say about it,” she replied, her British accent sharp with determination. “Let’s move, treetops, like you said.”

Paula gave a curt nod, and the two women sprang into action, leaping for the nearest branches with the agility of jungle cats. They swung and climbed, their lithe forms darting through the canopy, racing against the sun’s merciless climb toward noon. The Amazon city awaited and with it, a chance to save Jim from the insatiable warriors who held him captive.

**********

Jim awoke late the next morning, his body heavy with the exhaustion of the previous night’s encounter. He stretched, his enhanced muscles flexing beneath his dark skin, and shuffled forward toward the barred door of his bamboo cell. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex and the faint tang of sweat. Peering through the gaps, he caught sight of Wilhelm sprawled on a divan in the adjacent room, his pale form slack with fatigue. An Amazon knelt between his legs, her copper skin glistening as she lapped at his balls with slow, deliberate strokes of her tongue. Both her hands gripped his foot-long Johnson, jerking it with a rhythmic intensity, though it seemed to have lost some of its firmness, drooping slightly under her ministrations.

“Mein Gott!” Wilhelm groaned, his voice a ragged plea as his head lolled back, his blond hair plastered to his sweat-soaked forehead.

Another nude Amazon stepped forward, kneeling with a shallow bowl poised near the German’s helmeted tip. Wilhelm’s cock bloated and jerked suddenly, spewing forth a weak stream of semen. The woman caught it deftly in the bowl, while the one jerking his shaft squeezed and wrung it forward, milking every last drop of his precious seed with expert precision. “Nicht mehr. Nicht mehr,” Wilhelm moaned, his voice breaking as he clutched his thighs, his body trembling from overuse.

Two Amazon warriors entered the room, their green eyes glinting with fervor. They lifted Wilhelm to his feet, and he hunched forward slightly, cupping his aching balls with a wince. One presented him with a white cotton shift that draped loosely over his lean frame, followed by a feathered cape adorned with vibrant plumes. Another held up a bronze diadem, its bright parrot feathers fluttering in the humid air, crowned with a golden sunburst that gleamed like fire. She held it before Wilhelm, who bowed his head weakly. She placed it atop his brow, and he straightened, catching Jim’s gaze through the bamboo bars.

“Ha, Afrikaner, I think they are making me their king,” Wilhelm said, a tired grin spreading across his face.

Jim’s stomach twisted, a cold dread creeping up his spine. “I got a bad feeling about this,” he called, vague memories of Mesoamerican religious ceremonies flickering through his mind, school lessons about blood and altars, half-forgotten but suddenly all too real.

“Jealous,” Wilhelm laughed, his voice hoarse but smug. “I satisfied them so well, ja. Forget king, I think they’re making me their god.”

The two warriors grabbed Wilhelm’s arms and escorted him from the room, their grips firm and unyielding. Jim stared into the now-empty space, his unease growing as the Amazon with the last of Wilhelm’s semen knelt, holding the bowl aloft like an offering. More warrior women filed in, some clutching their penis attachments in hand, dipping the tips into the bowl and examining them to ensure they were coated in the German’s seed. Others didn’t remove their phalluses, instead grabbing the shafts as Jim might his own erection, bending them down to submerge the heads in the pool of semen. Jim didn’t think to count them, but at least a couple dozen were coating their “cocks” with Wilhelm’s essence. By the end, they ran fingers around the bowl’s interior, rubbing the remaining semen onto their attachments before hurrying off, their movements urgent. Jim guessed they were racing to mate with their counterparts or masturbate with their dildos, hoping to impregnate themselves with the captured seed.

A chant rose outside the window, sharp and rhythmic, pulling Jim from his thoughts. He raced to the barred opening, standing on his toes to peer out. Amazons lined the base of the step pyramid, their arms raised to the sky, voices booming in unison: “Inti! Inti! Inti!” At the pyramid’s summit stood an elaborately dressed figure, her red-tasseled headdress swaying as she stared down imperiously. Wilhelm began his ascent, flanked by the two warriors, his steps slow and unsteady from his marathon orgy. The chanting swelled, a relentless pulse that matched the pounding in Jim’s chest. “Inti! Inti!”

The sun climbed higher, its golden disc reaching its zenith, high noon, Jim realized with a sinking heart. Halfway up, Wilhelm turned, raising his arms to the chanting Amazons below. Their voices rose in exaltation, and he seemed to revel in it, his crowned head tilted back in triumph. “Dumbass Nazi,” Jim mumbled under his breath, his dread sharpening into a blade of terror.

Wilhelm resumed climbing, the warriors steadying him as he neared the top. The high priestess or queen, maybe both, Jim couldn’t tell, turned, raising her arms to the sun. She lifted a torch, igniting a brazier, and dark smoke curled upward, tainting the clear sky. As Wilhelm reached the summit, he froze, his eyes locking on something Jim couldn’t see. A faint, desperate “Nein!” escaped his lips, carried on the wind. The warriors seized his arms, dragging him up the final steps and throwing him down onto the stone altar. The priestess queen raised an obsidian dagger, its black blade glinting wickedly in the sunlight. The dagger flicked down.

Wilhelm’s scream pierced the air, high-pitched, raw, and unending, echoing throughout the entire city. He screamed over and over, a sound of pure agony that clawed at Jim’s ears. The priestess lifted a bloody object to the sky, her voice joining the chant: “Inti! Inti!” She turned, raising it toward the sun, a long, tubular shape flanked by two round masses, dripping crimson. “Is that his…?” Jim’s brows shot up in horror, his balls aching with a visceral, sympathetic terror. His junk tried to shrivel into his scrotum, but its enhanced size resisted, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

The priestess tossed Wilhelm’s severed cock and balls into the brazier, and a burst of darker smoke billowed upward, an offering to the sun god. The warriors lifted the still-screaming Wilhelm to his feet, dragging him to the pyramid’s rear edge. His scream grew louder, amplified by the acoustics of the plateau’s cliffs, as they hurled him off. The sound echoed forever, a haunting wail that followed his body’s long plunge into the Amazon jungle below. The Amazons’ chant of “Inti” morphed into a collective, nearly orgasmic moan, their voices trembling with ecstasy and triumph.

Jim turned away from the window, his heart hammering in his chest like a trapped animal. His hands dropped instinctively to cover his balls, the ache intensifying as the reality sank in… tomorrow, that could be him. The horror of Wilhelm’s scream burrowed into his brain; a relentless echo he knew would haunt him forever. Sweat beaded on his brow, his breath shallow and rapid, as the growing terror tightened its grip around his soul. He was next, and the sun would rise again all too soon.

*********

Jim tested the bars on his window, gripping them with his powerful hands and pulling hard, but the thick bamboo wouldn’t budge, solid as the stone walls that held them. The faint clatter of movement drifted from the next room, where Amazons bustled about, heating the bath. He heard the hiss of steam as they dropped heated rocks into the water, the sound mingling with their low, rhythmic chants. His heart thudded in his chest, Wilhelm’s scream still echoing in his mind, a chilling reminder of what might await him.

The bamboo door creaked open, and two warriors stepped in, their green eyes glinting in the dim light. They brandished wooden swords studded with jagged obsidian shards, the black stone catching the torchlight like a predator’s teeth. With sharp gestures, they motioned for Jim to follow. He stepped out, his bare feet slapping the cool stone floor as they led him to the bath—a shallow stone tub steaming with heat, its surface rippling from the submerged rocks.

An Amazon approached, kneeling before him with a shallow bowl held aloft. The murky fluid within sloshed slightly, its scent earthy and bitter. Jim stared down at it, tempted to knock it from her hands, but the guards’ glares bore into him, their obsidian blades twitching with readiness. Relenting, he took the bowl, its rough edge pressing into his palms, and drank it down as Wilhelm had done yesterday. The taste was foul, chalky and sharp, coating his tongue like wet clay, but he swallowed it, feeling it burn its way to his gut.

They motioned for him to step into the bath. He lowered himself into the hot water, the warmth seeping into his aching muscles. Another Amazon handed him a bowl filled with a scented herb mix, crushed leaves and petals that smelled of mint and something sweeter, along with a coarse washcloth. He scrubbed himself, his eyes darting around the room, searching for a means to escape. Something was different. The woman with the bowl wasn’t nude, and no parade of naked Amazons brought him fruit or nuts as they had for Wilhelm. “What, no orgy?” he quipped, glancing at his impassive guards. They stood like statues, their faces unreadable.

A sudden ache bloomed in his balls, sharp and insistent, and the heat of the bath made his head swim. His cock stirred, rising without provocation, a thick, fifteen-inch rod pulsing with unnatural vigor. Whatever was in that potion was working its magic, stiffening him to the point he felt he could hammer a nail with it. Two more Amazons entered, both dressed in simple shifts, carrying a clay jar between them. They motioned for him to climb out, and as he did, their eyes widened, locking onto his towering erection. One’s tongue flicked out to wet her lips, a hungry glint in her green gaze. The guards, too, stared, their stoic masks slipping for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s a big one,” Jim said, putting on a brave front, despite the tension coiling in his gut. “Be a crime to sacrifice such a nice Johnson.”

The two women dipped their hands into the jar, scooping out a thick, aromatic oil. They rubbed it into his skin with bare hands, their fingers gliding over his broad chest, tracing the hard ridges of his biceps, and kneading his muscular thighs. One took bold pleasure in coating his cock, her hands wrapping around its girth, sliding up and down its length with slow, deliberate strokes. Jim groaned, the sensation electric, his shaft glistening as she worked the oil into every inch. Her touch lingered too long, her breath quickening, until another Amazon grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand away, shooting her a stern look.

When they finished, Jim’s black skin shone like polished obsidian, slick and radiant under the torchlight. He caught one of the warrior women staring, her hand stroking her fake cock absently. She gripped the shaft, pushing it down slightly, her lips parting as if she derived pleasure from the motion—a subtle thrust of her hips confirming it. The other warrior prodded him forward with her sword, and they led him through a corridor. Lovely women went about their tasks, carrying jugs of water, bowls of fruit, and all paused to stare at the naked black giant. Gasps and giggles rippled through them as they gawked at his massive black cock, bobbing with each step. Jim felt as if he could please them all with his new giant penis.

Finally, they reached a room flanked by two more warriors guarding the door. The guards stepped aside, shoving Jim forward. He stumbled into a richly decorated chamber, living quarters fit for royalty. A bed of woven mats and furs sat against one wall, a table laden with food occupied the center, and a carved stone chair rested near an open window. A breeze wafted in, cooling the room, the shade outside softening the sun’s glare. A woman sat on the chair, her presence commanding as she stared at him, the Amazon queen, Jim presumed, the one who had unmanned poor Wilhelm.

She raised the red-tasseled headdress from her head, revealing a face of breathtaking beauty. Latina like her subjects, her smooth copper skin glowed with vitality, her green eyes piercing and luminous. Breasts as large and proud as Jane’s strained against a simple white shift, her pointy nipples pressing insistently against the cotton, threatening to tear through. Full, luscious lips curved into a faint smile, and long black hair cascaded down her back, framed by two distinguished white streaks on either side of her face, the only sign of age he’d seen among these ageless women, though her body and face radiated the vigor of a woman in her thirties. At her crotch jutted one of the largest penis attachments Jim had seen, nearly matching his own fifteen inches in length, a formidable symbol of her power.

Her eyes swept over his glistening black body, lighting up with approval. She stepped closer, reaching out to rest a hand on his chest. “Zambo,” she whispered, her fingers rubbing over his skin, tracing the contours of his pecs.

“Lady, I don’t know who this Zambo is, but he sure seems to have gotten around,” Jim said, his voice steady despite the heat pulsing through him.

She smiled, her hand sliding down the ridges of his abs, lingering over the hard planes of muscle, until it reached his cock. “HATUN!” she said, nodding in approval, her eyes lighting up. She held her hands apart, roughly the length of his newly expanded Johnson. “Hatun Ch’aki!”

Jim nodded back. “Big, yes, it’s very hatun.”

She tapped her chest. “Sapa Nusta Intiq, Suyana.”

He stared at her, taking in her regal bearing. “Suyana, it’s very beautiful,” he said, mirroring her earlier smile. She beamed, recognizing the compliment in his tone. He tapped his own chest. “Jim Crowe.”

“Jimcro,” she repeated, testing the sound.

“Jim,” he corrected gently.

“Jim,” she echoed, perfect this time. She led him to the table, laden with plates of fruit, bright berries and sliced mangoes, nuts, and baked fish glistening with herbs. A pitcher sat surrounded by hardened clay cups. She filled two from the pitcher, offering one to him. “Chicha?” she asked.

Jim took the cup, sniffing the contents, fermented, slightly sour, with a fruity undertone. He clinked it against hers. “Cheers,” he said, downing half in one gulp. The alcoholic warmth spread through him, loosening his tension. She sipped hers, watching him intently. He finished the rest, savoring the buzz.

“Jim,” she whispered, stepping closer, her hand grasping his shaft again. She stroked it slowly, the oil lubricating her touch, making his cock twitch in her grip. Jim looked down, her hand looked small against his massive length. Her own “cock” hovered near his, naturally white-gray but adorned with intricate blue lines mimicking veins and ridges, a work of art. Curious, he reached down and grabbed it. She gasped, her eyebrows shooting up, her breathing quickening as he tugged on it. Her hand moved faster along his shaft, her arousal evident in the flush creeping up her neck.

Suyana released his penis abruptly, stepping back, her chest rising and falling beneath the shift. Her green eyes burned with lust, pupils dilated. She moved behind him, and Jim turned his attention to the food. The women hadn’t fed him yesterday, only bringing a pitcher of water. With no utensils, likely to prevent their use as weapons, he scooped up a piece of baked fish, popping it into his mouth. His eyes scanned for escape routes. The guards waited outside the door, their presence a silent, but present threat. The windows, unbarred and open to the breeze, were too small for his bulk, perhaps a child could fit, but not him.

Suyana reappeared in his peripheral vision, and he turned to her. She was gently placing her strap-on penis on the table, revealing the carved, curved attachment beneath it. The penis-shaped head glistened with her arousal, proof of the pleasure she’d felt when he’d tugged it. “Jim,” she said, her voice husky, her eyes locked on his. She reached up, untying the laces of her shift. The fabric slid down her body, pooling at her feet, leaving her gloriously nude.

Jim’s breath caught. Her smooth copper skin shimmered in the soft light, flawless and taut over a body sculpted by the jungle’s demands. Bushy black pubes framed her mound, wild and untamed, contrasting with the sexy flatness of her belly, a gentle curve leading up to her navel. Her breasts, huge, round, and defiant, jutted proudly, capped with reddish-brown, erect nipples that begged for attention. After Jane, she was the second most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, a vision of raw, primal allure. His cock twitched, desire surging through him, his balls aching with pent-up pressure, screaming for relief.

“Jim,” she gasped, her gaze raking his body with equal hunger. She stepped closer, sliding her hands up his chest, her fingers digging into his slick skin as she raised her face to his. “Jim,” she whispered again.

“Suyana,” he replied, their lips crashing together in a passionate, desperate kiss.

Escape could wait.

**********

Pa-oola crouched in the dense canopy, her fingers gripping a thick branch as she pulled it down with practiced ease, parting the foliage just enough to reveal the sprawling Incan city below. Jane peered through the gap, her blue eyes widening with awe. The city unfolded like a dream from another age, stone terraces blooming with vibrant gardens, aqueducts channeling crystal water, and at its heart, the colossal step pyramid thrusting toward the sky, its carved steps gleaming in the midday sun. “My word, it’s an Incan city,” Jane gasped, her British accent tinged with awe.

“Paititi, city of the daughters of Inti,” said Paula.

“Paititi! A legendary lost city of the Inca. Said to be a city of immeasurable wealth.”

Paula gave Jane a surprised glance, but her face remained grim, her green eyes fixed on the pyramid’s summit, where a plume of dark smoke curled upward, tainting the clear blue sky. “We are too late,” she said, her voice heavy with regret. “The smoke rising from the pyramid means they have sacrificed a male. I am sorry.” She placed a gentle hand on Jane’s shoulder, her touch warm but somber.

Jane’s jaw tightened, her mind racing. “Maybe not. There were two prisoners,” she countered, clinging to hope. “Do they sacrifice all their males?”

“Yes,” Pa-oola replied, her tone flat with certainty. “Even the babies.”

Jane’s brow furrowed, her encyclopedic memory kicking in. “Qhapaq hucha was the ritualistic sacrifice of children by the Inca,” she said, her voice steady despite the horror. “Usually taken to a mountain to get closer to Inti, the sun god.”

“How you know so much?’ asked Pa-oola.

“I’m British,” she replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Pa-oola nodded. “Their warriors scout the Lost World for Thals or Indians to mate with until they are drained. They give them a tonic that keeps them erect, draining them of their seed, sacrificing them when they are finally spent.”

“You seem to know a lot also?” Jane asked, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

Paula’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile; her gaze distant. “Zambo captured once. Queen Suyana took a liking to him, keeping him to herself. My man pleased her so well, she made a decree delaying his sacrifice another day.” Her smile broadened, a flicker of pride in her green eyes. “It gave me time to save him.”

“How did you do it?” Jane pressed, leaning closer, her snakeskin top stretching taut around her breasts.

“I snuck in at night when most were sleeping. I had to fight Suyana. I took her cock as trophy, my Zambo cock was hers. We snuck out through an underground water drain.”

“A culvert?” Jane’s eyes lit up, a plan forming. “Then that’s our way in.”

Pa-oola nodded, her expression hardening with resolve. The two women exchanged a glance, their shared determination cutting through the jungle’s oppressive heat. The city below pulsed with life and death, but Jane’s heart clung to the hope that Jim still lived. They would infiltrate the Amazon stronghold, braving its dangers to rescue him before the sun claimed another sacrifice.

**********

The air in Suyana’s richly decorated chamber was thick with heat and anticipation, the faint breeze from the open windows doing little to cool the fire igniting between Jim Crowe and the Sapa Nusta. Their lips parted from a searing kiss, and Suyana’s green eyes burned with unrestrained lust as she gazed at Jim’s glistening black body. She took his hand, her touch firm yet reverent, and led him to the carved stone chair, her throne, its surface worn smooth by centuries of use. With a gentle push, she sat him down, his massive frame filling the seat like a king claiming his due, his massive cock his scepter of power.

Suyana knelt before him, her copper skin glowing in the torchlight, her huge breasts swaying as she settled between his muscular thighs. Her hands wrapped around his fifteen-inch cock, the oil from his earlier bath making it slick and gleaming. She leaned forward, her full lips parting to kiss the swollen crown, her tongue flicking out to lap at the bead of precum glistening there. Jim groaned, his hands finding her head, fingers tangling in her long black hair streaked with white. “That’s it, Suyana,” he rasped, guiding her mouth down his shaft.

She took him eagerly, her lips stretching wide to accommodate his girth, her tongue swirling along the thick vein on the underside. She sucked with hungry intensity, her cheeks hollowing as she bobbed her head, taking him deeper until the tip grazed the back of her throat. Her hands stroked the base, twisting and pumping in rhythm with her mouth, saliva dripping down to coat his balls. Jim’s grip tightened, urging her faster, his hips twitching as she moaned around him, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through his core. She pulled back briefly, her lips popping free, and kissed the head again, her green eyes locked on his, daring him to lose control.

Rising, Suyana straddled his lap, her bushy black pubes framing her glistening slit as she positioned herself above his towering erection. She gripped his shaft, guiding it to her entrance, and sank down slowly, a low moan escaping her lips as his thickness stretched her tight pussy. “Hatun,” she gasped, her hands bracing on his broad shoulders as she took him deeper, inch by inch, until she was fully impaled. Jim’s hands cupped her huge breasts, thumbs brushing her dark, erect nipples, and he leaned forward to suck one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub.

Suyana began to ride him, her hips rolling with a primal rhythm, her moans growing louder as she ground her clit against his pubic bone. Her pussy clenched around him, slick and hot, and she came hard, her body shuddering as her juices flooded over his cock, dripping down his balls. “Jim!” she cried, her nails digging into his shoulders. He sucked her other nipple, biting gently, and she trembled through another orgasm, her inner walls spasming wildly. This woman know how to work a dick!

Their lips crashed together in a passionate kiss, tongues dueling as they pressed their foreheads together, their breaths mingling. Suyana raised and lowered herself on his shaft, her movements slow and deliberate now, savoring every inch of him. Jim’s hands gripped her firm ass, guiding her, his own climax building. With a guttural groan, he erupted, his enhanced nuts unleashing a torrent of thick semen that filled her womb, the sheer volume spilling out around his cock. Suyana gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as she rode out the sensation, her pussy milking him dry. She stayed seated in his lap, their bodies pressed together, her breasts heaving against his chest, until she finally rose, his softening cock slipping free with a wet squelch, a trail of their combined fluids glistening on her thighs.

Suyana grabbed his hands, her smile sultry, and led him to a padded divan draped with soft furs. She lay back, pulling him atop her, her long legs wrapping around his hips as she guided his rehardening cock back to her entrance. Jim entered her with a single thrust, her pussy still slick with his seed, and began to fuck her with powerful, steady strokes. Her moans filled the room, her hands clawing at his back as he pounded into her, their bodies slapping together. She came again, her legs tightening around him, and Jim followed, his second orgasm flooding her once more, his groans mingling with her cries.

Panting, Suyana rang a small bronze bell on the table, its chime sharp in the quiet. Servants entered, their green eyes hungry as they stared at Jim, sprawled on the divan with his hands behind his head, his soft cock, still massive, draped over one thigh, glistening with their juices. The servants carried steaming pails of water, disappearing into an adjacent room where a solid gold bathtub gleamed, its surface etched with phallic motifs. They poured the water, steam rising in fragrant clouds, and Suyana beckoned Jim to follow.

They sank into the tub, facing each other, the warm water soothing their sweat-slicked bodies. Jim took her feet, rubbing them gently, his thumbs pressing into her arches. He kissed her ankles, his lips trailing up her calves to her inner thighs, savoring the taste of her skin. Suyana rose, perching on the tub’s edge, her legs spread wide. Jim leaned in, his tongue flicking out to tease her swollen clit, lapping at her folds still slick with his seed. She moaned, her hands gripping his head as he sucked her clit between his lips, his tongue swirling in relentless circles. Suyana’s hips bucked, and she came hard, her juices flooding his mouth as she cried out, her body trembling through a shattering orgasm.

They rose, water dripping from their bodies, and returned to the divans, their hunger unquenched. Suyana grabbed her penis attachment from the table, its blue-veined surface gleaming, and handed it to Jim with a wicked smile. She positioned herself on all fours, her firm ass raised, her pussy glistening with arousal. Jim knelt behind her, sliding his cock into her soaked slit with a slow thrust, eliciting a moan from her lips. He took the attachment, its carved head slick with her earlier arousal, and pressed it against her tight asshole. Suyana gasped, pushing back as he eased it in, the double penetration stretching her to her limits.

Jim fucked her with steady, powerful strokes, his cock plunging into her pussy while he worked the attachment in and out of her ass, matching his rhythm. Suyana’s moans turned to screams, her body shaking as she came again, her pussy and ass clenching around their intruders. “Jim!” she cried, her voice raw with pleasure. “Hatan Ch’aki!” He thrust faster, the sight of her writhing beneath him pushing him to the edge. With a roar, he came, his cock pulsing as he flooded her pussy with another load, the attachment buried deep in her ass. Suyana collapsed forward, her body quivering through a final, earth-shattering orgasm, her juices soaking the furs beneath them.

They lay together, panting, their bodies entwined on the divan. Suyana’s hand rested on his chest, her green eyes soft with satisfaction, but Jim’s mind flickered to escape. The pleasure was intoxicating, but Wilhelm’s fate loomed like a shadow, and he knew he had to find a way out before the sun rose again. For now, though, he let the moment linger, the queen’s warmth a fleeting respite in the heart of danger.

**********

The jagged edge of the Lost World plateau loomed before Pa-oola and Jane, the towering clay brick wall of the Incan city casting a foreboding shadow against the fading light. Twenty feet below, a narrow cistern opening yawned in the cliff face, a faint trickle of water spilling from the plateau’s side, shimmering like liquid silver in the dusk. Thousands of feet below, the Amazon basin churned with dark, roiling clouds, flashes of lightning illuminating the distant rain that pounded the jungle below. The air crackled with tension, the scent of ozone mingling with the earthy musk of the cliffside vines. Pa-oola crouched low, her green eyes sharp as she peered over the edge. “You afraid of heights?” she asked, her voice a taut whisper, barely audible over the rising wind.

Jane’s lips curled into a defiant smile, her blue eyes glinting with resolve. “Not a chance,” she shot back, her British accent cutting through the ominous hum of the storm. She seized a thick vine, its rough fibers biting into her palms, and began her descent with the precision of a seasoned climber. Her snakeskin outfit clung to her sweat-slicked body, the fabric straining as she moved, her muscles flexing with each controlled drop, the tiny loincloth fluttering above her rear end from the up-draft. Pa-oola followed close behind, her lizard-patterned garb swaying with the rhythm of her climb, the cliff face scraping against her tanned skin as she descended, her blonde hair whipping in the gusts blowing up from the storm below.

Halfway down, the wind howled louder, and Jane glanced up, catching a tantalizing glimpse beneath Pa-oola’s scant bottoms, her firm, tanned cheeks framed by the thin strip of fabric, swaying with each movement. “I like the view,” Jane quipped, her voice laced with mischief, a brief flicker of levity in the growing storm. Pa-oola’s smile was cut short by a piercing screech that split the air, a shadow loomed above, massive wings blotting out the dying light. A Pteranodon, its beady eyes locked on them, folded its leathery wings and dove, its razor-sharp beak gaping a predatory screech coming from its mouth that brought to Jane’s mind of the first time she’d been strafed by a German Stuka.

“Look out!” Pa-oola shouted, her voice raw with urgency, her hands tightening on the vine.

“Move!” Jane roared, her heart slamming against her ribs. They rappelled faster, vines burning their palms as they descended in a frenzied blur, the wind from the Pteranodon’s dive whipping their hair into a frenzy. The beast’s talons slashed the air inches from Jane’s head, its beak snapping with a sickening clack as it narrowly missed her. Jane kicked out, rappelled down the last few feet and swung into the cistern’s cave mouth, her boots skidding on the slick stone as she grabbed Pa-oola’s arm with a desperate yank, pulling her inside just as the Pteranodon’s beak grazed Pa-oola’s calf, drawing a thin line of blood. The creature’s enraged screech echoed as it swooped past, its massive wings stirring a gust that nearly sucked them back out.

They crouched in the cave, panting, their bodies pressed against the damp stone walls, the sound of their ragged breaths mingling with the drip of water. “Too close,” Jane muttered, wiping sweat from her brow. Pa-oola nodded, her green eyes scanning the darkness ahead. They crept through the cistern, the air cold and heavy with the scent of moss, passing several drainage openings where water trickled into the abyss below. Pa-oola halted, tilting her head to listen to the faint echoes of the city above. “We should be close to the palace now,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Now what?”

Jane’s eyes gleamed with determination. “We wait,” Pa-oola replied, her tone resolute as the shadows deepened around them.

**********

Dusk descended like a shroud, the opening above casting a shifting shadow across the cave floor. As the last light faded, Jane cupped her hands, boosting Pa-oola up with a grunt. Pa-oola gripped the edge, her muscles straining as she peeked out, her blonde hair catching the faint glow of torchlight. “It’s safe,” she hissed, hauling herself up with a swift motion, then leaning over to grab Jane’s wrists, pulling her up with a heave that left them both gasping. They landed in a crouch, the city sprawling before them in eerie silence, its stone paths illuminated by the flickering fires of guard towers along the walls. Light spilled from building windows, casting ghostly patterns, and the distant chant of “Inti” lingered in the air like a haunting refrain.

They crept through the Incan city, sticking to the shadows, the air thick with the scent of smoke and exotic blooms. They ducked behind a stone pillar as an Amazon patrol marched past, their torches casting dancing shadows, the clatter of their obsidian-tipped spears echoing off the walls. Two guards stood sentinel before a palace door, their exotic gear, feathered capes in scarlet and azure, bronze breastplates gleaming, and penis attachments jutting proudly—marking them as elite warriors. “Get the one on the left; I’ve got the right,” Jane whispered, her voice a coiled spring of intent.

They struck like panthers, surprising the guards, Jane’s aikido a blur as she grabbed the right guard’s arm, twisting it behind her back and slamming her face into the stone wall with a sickening crunch. Pa-oola lunged at the left, her dagger hilt cracking against the guard’s temple, dropping her in a heap. They worked quickly, stripping the uniforms. Pa-oola stuffing her blonde hair under a feathered helmet, Jane wrapping a vibrant robe around her pale skin, both strapping on the penis attachments with grim efficiency. The weight of the attachments felt alien, but they adjusted, their movements now those of seasoned warriors as they slipped into the palace.

Servants in simple shifts bowed their heads as the “warriors” passed, their eyes averted in deference, helping to keep their disguises safe. “The royal chambers are this way,” Pa-oola murmured, leading them through ornate corridors, the walls adorned with erotic carvings of amazons and phallic totems. Two more guards flanked Suyana’s door, their green eyes glinting in the torchlight. Jane and Pa-oola pressed into a shadowed alcove, spying as the queen emerged, a blanket draped around her nude form, her copper skin glowing and sweaty. She gave an order to the guards before retreating inside. The guards marched off, their steps echoing past Jane and Pa-oola’s hiding spot.

Jane grinned and whispered. “She’s delayed the sacrifice another day.”

Paula’s brow furrowed. “You understand?”

“Not entirely, but they’re speaking a dialect of Quechua, the Incan language.” Jane winked at her companion. “Anyway, I’m guessing that Jim’s still alive and he did a good job keeping her satisfied. Now’s our chance.”

They slipped into the chamber, the air heavy with the musk of sex and incense. Suyana sat nude on her throne, one leg draped over the arm, her bushy black pubes framing her glistening slit. Jim knelt before her, his tongue buried in her pussy, her moans a low, throaty hum. Her hand stroked his head like she was petting a dog. She looked up, her green eyes flashing with fury. “What are you doing here?” she snarled, rising to her feet, Jim falling back. “How dare you disturb my pleasu…”

Jane threw off the robe, her pale skin stark against the dim light, and charged. Pa-oola froze, her gaze locked on Jim, his semi-hard, black cock protruding outward, his muscular frame a vision of raw power that stole her breath.

For half a heartbeat, Suyana didn’t process what was happening, a flicker of confusion replacing her anger at the intrusion. Jane used it to her advantage. She drove forward, fast and direct, slamming into the queen before she could fully react. The impact carried them both back a step, feet sliding along the stone.

But Suyana didn’t freeze for long. Her hands came up instinctively, and her first strike snapped out short and brutal, catching Jane across the cheek with a glancing blow, enough to disrupt Jane’s next attack. Jane adjusted, already reaching. She caught Suyana’s wrist as the second strike came in, but her grip slipped on Suyana’s sweaty and slightly oiled skin. The queen twisted hard, resisting, trying to rip free. Jane stepped in as the Queen broke free, turning her hips and driving a knee toward Suyana’s midsection. It landed, solid, but not decisive. Suyana grunted, breath hitching, then surged forward instead of back, trying to clinch and overpower her.

They collided chest to chest, grappling for position. Suyana was strong, stronger than Jane expected, but she was used to fighting men and used it, trying to force her weight down, to break balance instead of trading strikes. Jane shifted with the pressure, not against it. She slid off-line, dragging at the queen’s arm, trying to turn her. Suyana fought it, planting her feet, nearly tearing loose and drove a knee into Jane’s thigh.

Pain flared. Jane’s leg dipped for a split second. Enough to matter. They broke apart just long enough to reset, their large bosoms heaving as they caught their breath.

Suyana came again, faster, anger sharpening her movements. A wider strike this time, that allowed Jane to grab her wrist. The queen tried yanking her arm back. This time Jane’s grip held. She caught the arm tight, stepped deep across the queen’s center, and turned her hips hard.

Suyana resisted, digging in, trying to stay upright, but her momentum was already committed. Jane hauled and twisted. She saw the look of surprise on Suyana’s face as she flew past. Jane dropped into a fighting crouch watching the queen hit the ground. Suyana went down hard, shoulder striking first, then her head cracking against the stone with a dull, ugly sound.

She didn’t go still immediately. Her body tried to respond, a reflexive roll, a push to rise—but it faltered halfway. Then she sagged onto her side, breath shallow, limbs not answering the way they should.

Jane stayed back, chest heaving, one leg unsteady, watching her. Waiting to see if the queen would rise again.

She didn’t.

Jim ran over to the fallen queen and checked her pulse. “She’s alive,” he said, rising. He turned to Jane, his eyes lighting up as he embraced her. their bodies pressed tight. “Good to see you, Stalwart,” he said, his deep voice warm, his gaze dropping to her attachment. “Nice Johnson.”

Jane looked down. She’d forgotten about the penis attachment in the fight. She reached to her side to untie it. “You’ve got quite the impressive todger there yourself,” Jane replied, smirking at his massive erection, still glistening from Suyana’s arousal.

Pa-oola stared, her green eyes wide with shock. “You didn’t tell me he was black,” she blurted, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and desire, unable to remove her eyes from his monster cock.

Jim raised an eyebrow. “That a problem?”

“No, not at all,” Pa-oola said, her tone husky, her gaze lingering on his cock with unabashed lust. “Good, in fact.”

Jim stared back taking in the blonde jungle girl’s lithe buxom figure barely covered by the scant outfit. His cock rose slightly at the sight and Pa-oola gasped as she stared at it.

Jane made quick introductions: “Jim Crowe, our plane’s pilot; Pa-oola, Paula White from the Challenger expedition.”

Jim’s brow furrowed, his mind racing. “That was thirty-two years ago?” he muttered, the timeline jarring him. Paula was mid-twenties at best. His eyes swept from her youthful face down her lush figure again. The sight of her made his cock stick straight out. He watched her tongue wet her lips as she stared at his crotch.

“If you two are done making goo goo eyes at each other, we should get out of here.” Jane snatched Suyana’s penis attachment from the table, its blue-veined surface gleaming, and stuffed it into her pack as a trophy.

They disguised themselves again, Pa-oola and Jane donning the guard costumes, their fake cocks swaying as they flanked Jim, pretending to escort him. They peeked out the door, the corridor clear, and stepped into the palace’s labyrinthine halls, hurrying back the way they had come.

Muyami turned a corner, her tall frame imposing in her black Smilodon helmet, the ruby nipples on her golden breastplates glittering in the torchlight. She eyed them, her green gaze going down to Jim’s still erect cock. “I’ll take the male from here,” she said, her voice firm, her hand resting on her sword hilt.

Jane replied in halting Incan, her tone authoritative, “We’re to take the male, queen’s orders.”

Muyami’s eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar accent then flicked to Jane’s pale legs, suspicion flaring. She drew her bronze sword with a hiss, its edge catching the torchlight. The three spread out, Jane gripping her stolen spear, Pa-oola drawing her dagger, Jim’s fists clenching, his still hard cock bobbing with his movements. Muyami’s gaze dropped to Jim’s impressive length, and her sword lowered, her expression softening with a mix of sorrow and desire. “Come, I help,” she said, sheathing her blade.

Jane glanced at Jim, her brow raised. “Been busy Crow?”

He winked, a silent reassurance. Muyami led them through the palace, her presence commanding as she ordered patrols aside with sharp gestures, her voice brooking no argument. She retrieved Jim’s tattered clothes and boots from a storage room, handing them over with a lingering look, and escorted them back to the cistern. At the edge, she pulled Jim close, her lips crashing against his in a deep, hungry kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth as her hands gripped his shoulders. She pulled back, her green eyes smoldering, and watched as they lowered themselves into the well, slipping the cover back on as they disappeared.

The women stripped off their disguises, Jim squinting to see the two beauties nearly nude figures in the dark passage. “I like the new look,” he muttered.

Jane grinned wryly. “I lost my clothes when I parachuted out. Let’s get moving before the Queen wakes up.”

After traversing the cistern and climbing back up the cliff, they soon reached the tree line, Jocko the lizard-monkey chittering from a branch above, his small form silhouetted against the rising moon. The city’s gongs began to sound, a deep, resonant alarm that echoed across the plateau, stirring the night with urgency. Pa-oola’s voice was steady despite the danger. “They won’t search for us in the dark, too dangerous,” she said, her eyes scanning the canopy. “If we stick to the treetops, we should be safe. The moon’s bright enough to see, but the going will be slow.”

The trio melted into the jungle, their silhouettes vanishing into the shadows as the city’s clamor faded behind them.

 

**********

 

The journey back to Pa-oola’s treehouse stretched into a grueling hot and humid night, a relentless trek through the treetops under a moon that cast an eerie silver glow across the jungle canopy. The trio moved with a desperate urgency, or as fast as they could with Jim trying to keep up with the more acrobatic women. “Fucking trapeze artists,” he mumbled watching, Pa-oola twist in midair to grab a vine. Luckily, the moon was bright enough that he could see what he was doing, but Jane hung back to help him. The distant roars of unseen predators echoed through the dense foliage.

 

Jocko scampered ahead, his chittering a frantic guide, seeming trained to find the blonde jungle girl the quickest route through the canopy. The clanging of gongs from the Amazon city slowly faded like a ghostly threat behind them. The air hung heavy with humidity, sweat beading on their skin, and every rustle in the undergrowth sent a jolt of adrenaline through their veins. By the time the silhouette of Pa-oola’s treehouse emerged against the pre-dawn sky, exhaustion had etched deep lines into their faces, but the promise of safety drove them onward.

 

Inside, Pa-oola fumbled with a flint, her hands trembling as she struck it against a rock, trying to coax a spark to life for the torches lining the platform. A few sparks sprayed out like quickly fading meteors. Jane, ever resourceful, smirked and rummaged through her pack. “Let me handle this,” she said, pulling out her matches, striking one with a sharp flick, the flame flaring to life. She moved with purpose, lighting the torches one by one, their warm glow pushing back the shadows and illuminating the wooden walls.

 

The treehouse creaked softly under the weight of their return, the air inside thick with the damp scent of jungle and the faint smoke from the torches Jane was lighting. She moved methodically from room to room, using the first torch to light a few more, casting a warm, flickering glow across the wooden walls. The ordeal of the escape still clung to them all, but the safety of Pa-oola’s perch felt like a hard-earned victory.

Pa-oola lingered near Jim, her green eyes catching the torchlight as she turned to him, her voice soft but edged with concern. “Hungry?” she asked, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face.

Jim rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, his broad shoulders slumping a bit. “Thanks, but I’d just like to get some sleep,” he said, his deep voice carrying a weary gratitude.

She nodded and led him toward the bedroom, her steps hesitant as they crossed the platform. The single bed came into view, a sturdy frame draped with furs, but Pa-oola’s cheeks flushed crimson when Jim’s gaze landed on the scattered petrified mushrooms, her makeshift dildos, some carved and polished, others rough-hewn, strewn around like a secret she’d forgotten to hide. He picked up the black one, turning it over in his hand with a curious grin.

“No time to tidy up,” she mumbled, her blush deepening as she shifted her weight, clearly embarrassed.

Jim let out a low laugh, setting the dildo back down. “No harm done. Keeps things interesting up here, I reckon.”

Pa-oola managed a shy smile, then tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “You really flew that big metal bird?” she asked, her tone a mix of awe and disbelief.

He chuckled again, easing onto the bed’s edge and pulling off his boots. “Sure do. I was a car mechanic back in the day. Fixed engines, kept ‘em running smooth.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Car?” she asked, the word foreign on her tongue.

Jim leaned back, stretching his arms. “An automobile. You know, horseless carriages? I was an auto mechanic in the Motor City, Detroit. When the war kicked off, I switched to planes. And when they finally let Negroes fly, I jumped at the chance.”

Pa-oola’s eyes widened, her breath catching. “You’re from Detroit? I’m from Detroit! Where from?” Her voice rose with excitement, the connection sparking something alive in her.

Jim’s grin softened, a memory tugging at him. “Black Bottom, near the Grand Trunk railroad tracks.”

She nodded slowly, her mind sifting through old memories. “Never visited. Mostly Irish and Poles down there back in my day.”

He shook his head, a wry edge to his laugh. “Mostly Negroes now. Times change.”

“Brush Park,” she said, almost to herself, then looked at him expectantly.

Jim nodded back, his expression thoughtful. “Never visited either. Figured the only Negroes in Brush Park were servants, back then.”

Pa-oola’s lips curved into a faint smile, her gaze distant. “Is the Eastern Market still there?”

“As busy as ever,” Jim replied, his tone warm with nostalgia. “But the city’s changed a lot in the last thirty years. Winter still sucks, though.”

She frowned, her brow creasing. “I barely remember winter or snow. It’s been so long up here.”

The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of lost time, the torchlight dancing across their faces as they sat on the edge of that single bed, two lost souls from Detroit reliving their memories.

Pa-oola shifted on the bed’s edge, her green eyes softening as she glanced at Jim. “You take the bed,” she offered, her voice gentle but firm.

Jim shook his head, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “Nah, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine on the floor.”

She stood, brushing off his refusal with a wave of her hand. “I’ve got hammocks I can string up. No trouble at all.” Her gaze lingered on him, then drifted to his tattered clothes. “Let me wash those for you. They’re a mess.”

He nodded, turning his back to her as he began to strip. The fabric rasped against his skin as he peeled off his shirt and pants, revealing the sculpted muscles of his back, broad shoulders tapering to a powerful spine, each movement a testament to his strength. Pa-oola’s breath caught, her eyes tracing the lines of his form with quiet admiration.

When he turned back around, clad only in his undershorts and dog tags glinting faintly in the torchlight, his jaw dropped. Pa-oola stood nude, her tiny skin breast covering and loincloth at her feet. Blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, Her smooth, tanned skin glowed in the dim light, paler white skin around her nipples and bushy tufts of blonde pubic hair. Her breasts full and proud, her hips curving enticingly. “That too,” she said with a nod toward his undershorts, her voice steady despite the heat in her gaze.

Jim gulped, his eyes locked on her breasts before sliding down her body, then back up. With a shaky breath, he slid the undershorts down, his penis springing free, rock-hard and pulsing with an unnatural vigor. “Looks like that potion’s still working on me,” he muttered, a mix of amusement and awe in his tone.

Pa-oola stepped forward, her hand reaching out to wrap around his thick shaft, her fingers stroking him with a slow, deliberate motion. “Too bad,” she purred, her voice low and teasing. “I was hoping it was for me.” She closed the distance, pressing her body against his, and they embraced, her bare skin warm against his, their lips meeting in a hungry kiss as the torchlight flickered around them.

Jim groaned as she togged on his cock. “Maybe we should both take the bed?” he whispered in her ear.

Pa-oola climbed onto the bed, her golden-tanned thighs straddling Jim’s hips with deliberate hunger. She gripped his monstrous fifteen-inch black cock, so thick her fingers barely met around the shaft, and rubbed the swollen, plum-sized head back and forth through her dripping folds. The slick heat of her pussy coated him instantly, and Jim’s breath caught, Jane stood only steps away, her blue eyes watching every motion. A flicker of nervous guilt twisted in his gut. Would she be angry? Hurt? He’d been hoping to get together with her again, but Pa-oola’s slick lips parted around his crown, and the tight, velvet grip pulled him under. He couldn’t resist the blonde’s lush body, the way her heavy breasts swayed, nipples stiff and begging.

She sank down inch by glorious inch, a long, throaty moan escaping her lips as her walls stretched obscenely around him. “So big… filling me completely,” she gasped, bottoming out with a wet slap, her belly visibly bulging from the sheer girth buried inside her. Jane’s presence burned in the corner of Jim’s vision, but Pa-oola began to ride, slow, rolling circles at first that dragged his fat head across her deepest spot. Her pussy clenched rhythmically, milking him with wet, obscene sounds. The first orgasm hit her fast; her back arched, breasts thrusting forward as she cried out, juices gushing around his shaft and soaking his heavy balls.

“Zambo!” she moaned, lost in the pleasure, slamming down harder, her firm ass rippling with every bounce. Jim’s hands flew to her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he thrust up to meet her. Guilt still nagged at him, Jane was right there, but the blonde’s pussy was molten silk, gripping and fluttering like nothing he had ever felt. Pa-oola came again, harder, her body convulsing, blonde hair whipping wildly as she ground her swollen clit against his pubic bone. “Zambo… yes, just like you used to fuck me!”

Jim groaned, hips snapping upward, driving deeper, his cum exploding inside her womb with a force that made the jungle girl cry out. Pa-oola rode through her third shattering climax, nails raking red lines down his chest, her inner muscles squeezing him tightly milking him for every drop of his seed. Sweat glistened on her golden skin, breasts bouncing heavily, her sweat rolled down her hard nipples. Only then did she slow, panting, still impaled to the hilt, her pussy fluttering around his throbbing length, still clenching and tugging every inch of his shaft.

“Who is this Zambo?” Jim asked, voice rough with lust and lingering nerves. His big hands rose automatically, cupping her magnificent tits, thumbs circling the stiff pink nipples, rolling and tugging them until she shivered. “The Amazons thought I was him.”

Pa-oola trembled under his caress, nipples tightening further between his fingers. “He was my mate,” she whispered, eyes half-lidded with lingering pleasure as she rocked gently on his still-hard cock. “Lost for many years now. The queen used him. The dark-skinned Amazon is their daughter. He vanished searching for a way off the plateau.” She smiled sadly, leaning into his hands as he kneaded her breasts, thumbs flicking her sensitive peaks. “I’m sorry. I know you aren’t him… but I haven’t had a black cock since Zambo. It felt… right. Like coming home.”

She lifted herself with a lewd, wet sound, his cum-smeared shaft slapping heavily against his abs. Before Jim could speak, a hand pulled his cock back up, a warm, wet mouth engulfing the sensitive head. He looked down, Jane had crawled between his legs, raven hair fanned across his thighs, full lips stretched obscenely around his glistening crown. Her tongue swirled greedily, cleaning Pa-oola’s cream and his own precum with long, hungry licks.

“I need this too,” Jane murmured, voice husky, rising up and swinging a leg over him. She sank onto his cock in one smooth, greedy motion, her familiar tight heat swallowing every thick inch until her ass rested flush against his balls. “Damn Crowe, I thought your cock was nice the last time we fucked, but this thing....” She began to ride immediately, breasts swaying heavily, milk already beading at the stiff nipples and trickling down the pale curves oof her breasts.

Pa-oola fetched her prized black mushroom strap-on, the thick, Zambo-sized phallus dyed dark and veined in blue. She fastened it around her waist, the heavy cock jutting proudly, then knelt behind Jane. “You want it here?” she asked, pressing the carved head firmly against Jane’s puckered rosebud.

“Yes,” Jane gasped, leaning forward so her leaking breasts hung directly over Jim’s face. “Fuck my ass, Pa-oola and…” Jane’s face twisted up with shame at the need the COCK of Osiris had bestowed upon her. “Spank me. Spank me hard while you do it. Make me feel it.”

“Damn Stalwart,” grunted Jim grinding his cock into her. “You got some strange appetites, not that I’m complaining.”

The jungle girl pushed in slowly, the thick mushroom cock stretching Jane’s tight ring open. Jane moaned loudly, riding Jim’s shaft faster, her pussy clenching around him in rhythmic spasms. Pa-oola’s hand cracked down, sharp, resounding slaps on Jane’s firm, pale ass that left bright red handprints blooming across the skin. Each stinging spank drove Jane harder onto Jim, her pussy fluttering wildly, her nipples dripping milk in steady streams onto his lips.

Jim latched onto one thick, erect nipple, sucking hard. A sudden, powerful gush filled his mouth, Jane’s milk shooting in hot, forceful jets as her orgasm crashed through her like a storm. He swallowed greedily, the sweet, warm liquid nearly overflowing his lips and running down his chin as Jane bucked wildly between them, both holes filled and stretched to their limits. “Oh God… yes! Harder!” she screamed, body shaking violently through the intense climax, milk spraying in rhythmic pulses with every contraction. Jim found it addictive, trying to keep her nipple in his mouth so he could keep tasting her, but her wild flailing had her nipple sliding along his chin, lips, and nose. He grabbed her hips and held her still as his cum flooded her womb with seed, another shattering orgasm rewarded him with another mouthful of milk.

Satisfied and trembling, Jane finally rolled off him, collapsing onto the quilt with a contented sigh, her breasts still heaving and glistening with milk and sweat. Pa-oola immediately crawled between Jane’s spread thighs. She lowered her mouth to the creamy mess leaking from Jane’s well-fucked pussy and began licking with eager, filthy hunger, tongue scooping thick ropes of Jim’s cum mixed with Jane’s juices, swallowing noisily before diving back in for more. Jane moaned, throwing one leg over Jim’s as she spread her thighs further, fingers tangling in the blonde hair, guiding her deeper, hips rolling to press her dripping sex against Pa-oola’s face.

Jim feeling strangely invigorated from Jane’s breast milk, rolled off the bed and moved behind Pa-oola, his cock still rock-hard and glistening with their combined fluids. He gripped her hips and thrust back inside her soaked pussy in one powerful, deep stroke, driving her face harder into Jane’s folds. Pa-oola cried out around her mouthful, the force pushing her tongue even deeper into Jane, who arched with fresh, shuddering pleasure. Jim pounded her relentlessly, hips slapping loudly against her firm ass, each thrust shoving her tongue further into Jane’s creamy pussy. The treehouse filled with wet, obscene sounds, slurping, moaning, the rhythmic smack of flesh on flesh, as Pa-oola licked and sucked with desperate hunger while Jim fucked her from behind, driving all three of them higher.

Jane came first again, flooding Pa-oola’s mouth with fresh nectar and a mouthful of Jim’s semen while Jim’s cock swelled inside the blonde. Pa-oola followed, her pussy clamping down like a vice as she squirted around his shaft, her cries muffled in Jane’s sex. Jim roared, slamming deep one final time and erupting, pumping rope after thick rope of hot cum into Pa-oola until it overflowed, running down her thighs in creamy rivers.

Exhausted, glistening with sweat and fluids, the three lovers collapsed together in a warm, tangled heap on the wide bed. Jim lay on his back, one strong arm curled protectively around Jane’s pale, milk-streaked body, the other cradling Pa-oola’s golden curves tight against his chest. Both women nestled close, heads resting on his broad shoulders, their breathing slowing into deep, peaceful sleep as the torchlight flickered softly over their entwined forms. Jim kissed each woman on the head, closed his eyes and was soon fast asleep, a dreamy smile spread across his broad lips.

**********

Hours later, the torches had gone out, moonlight filtered through the leaves like silver lace. Jim woke to the exquisite sensation of two hot mouths working his cock in tandem. Pa-oola and Jane knelt between his thighs, taking turns with greedy devotion. Blonde lips slid wetly down one side of his thick shaft while raven-haired lips sucked and tongued the other, their tongues dueling and swirling over the fat, plum-sized head, moaning around his girth in perfect harmony. Saliva glistened in long strings, dripping down to coat his heavy balls as they kissed and licked along every veined inch.

“Good morning, big man,” Pa-oola purred, her green eyes sparkling up at him before both women dove back down. Jane took the head fully into her throat with a wet gulp, humming around him while Pa-oola nuzzled one swollen ball with her mouth, rolling it gently with her tongue. Jim groaned, hips twitching, his hands tangling in their hair, blonde and black silk sliding through his fingers. They worked him relentlessly, switching places so Jane could lap at his balls while Pa-oola deep-throated him with practiced hunger, her throat rippling around the massive crown. The wet, filthy sounds filled the treehouse, slurping, moaning, the occasional pop as one released him to let the other take over. They pushed him right to the edge, then eased back, teasing until his cock throbbed angrily, veins pulsing.

Jane finally pulled off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her lips to his glistening shaft. “We’re not done with you yet,” she whispered, voice husky, before they both attacked again, tongues lashing the sensitive underside until Jim roared and erupted. Thick ropes of cum blasted across their faces and tongues; they moaned in unison, sharing every spurt, licking each other clean with hungry kisses before swallowing what they could. Four hands tugged his huge shaft, milking it for every drop of his semen.

“Damn, this wasn’t what I was expecting when I signed up to fight nazis,” groaned a satisfied Jim, putting his arms behind his head.

Satisfied for the moment, Jane rose gracefully and padded to the lower deck to prepare breakfast, crushing fresh berries, slicing a giant strawberry, and arranging nuts on broad leaves. The scent of sweet fruit filled the air as she worked, humming softly. Paula and Jim ran past her, laughing, jumping off the edge of the platform and into the pool below. Jane listened to them splash around while she finished breakfast, the noise stopping and then moans of lust rising up to her.

Jim leaned back against the smooth rock beneath the waterfall, cool water cascading over his broad shoulders. Pa-oola straddled him, her lithe body glistening as he gripped her firm ass and raised her up and down his hard cock with powerful, deliberate strokes. Each lift brought her nearly off his thick shaft before slamming her back down, her pussy stretching wide around him, juices mixing with the falling water. Pa-oola’s head fell back, blonde hair streaming, breasts bouncing heavily as she moaned, “Yes… deep… that good… deeper!”

Jocko perched on a nearby branch, head tilted, watching the rhythmic fucking with bright, curious eyes, occasionally chittering as if offering commentary.

Jane glanced down from the deck, a slow smile curving her lips at the sight, Jim’s powerful arms flexing, Pa-oola riding him with abandon, water spraying around their joined bodies. She finished arranging the meal and called softly, “Breakfast is ready when you two are finished playing.”

They climbed back up shortly after, bodies still damp and flushed. The three ate together after dressing, fingers dipping into the sweet fruit, sharing bites, laughter mixing with lingering touches. Jim’s eyes kept drifting between them: Pa-oola’s golden curves barely contained by her tiny iguana-patterned loincloth, Jane’s pale skin and overflowing breasts straining the snakeskin triangles that covered almost nothing.

After the meal, they set off for the landing site. Paula and Jocko scouted ahead through the canopy, the jungle girl leaping from branch to branch with effortless grace, her little loincloth flapping to reveal teasing glimpses of her firm, rounded ass. Jim couldn’t stop staring; his gaze locked on the way the fabric fluttered and rode up with every powerful jump. He turned to Jane beside him, who moved through the lower branches in her own tiny jungle-girl outfit, the snakeskin triangles doing little to hide her massive breasts or the curve of her ass. “This place isn’t so bad after all,” he murmured, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I could actually get used to it.”

Jane laughed, low and throaty. “Careful what you wish for Cap. The Lost World seems reluctant to release its visitors.”

They pushed through the final ferns into the clearing. Small chicken-sized dinosaurs scattered in a chittering wave, and a troupe of lizard-monkeys bolted from a work table, dropping half-eaten rations as they fled, tools were scattered about the ground. Paula stood there already, looking sad. She stepped forward quickly, placing her palm flat against Jim’s broad chest before he could enter the camp.

“Jim… I’m sorry,” she said, voice tight.

He pushed gently past her, heart sinking. There, propped against the bomber’s wheel was Langston Cain. The bottom half of his body was gone, only ragged, bloody shreds remained where the small dinosaurs had feasted. His head lolled back, eyes open but empty, the pistol still clutched loosely in his dead hand. A single gunshot wound marred his temple, the back of his head blown off. Scratched in the dirt beside him, in Cain’s own weakening hand, were two words and a crude symbol: “LISA” and a jagged swastika.

Jim’s jaw locked. Grief and rage boiled up hot and violent in his chest. He dropped to one knee, hand resting on his fallen crewman’s shoulder, voice low and deadly. “Goddammit Cain! You didn’t deserve this.” Guilt consumed him. He’d been having the time of his life with two beautiful women while his crewman and friend lay dying. His eyes hardened. “Goddammit!” he cried nearly screaming, tears running down his cheeks. “Every last one of those Nazi sons of bitches is gonna pay.”

The three stood in heavy silence around the body, the jungle suddenly feeling darker despite the rising sun. Jane’s hand found Jim’s shoulder; Pa-oola’s green eyes leaking several tears as she shared in Jim’s loss.

Jim rose slowly, gaze shifting to the wrecked Blackbird. The fuselage lay silent, torn open like a gutted animal. His heart lurched. Something important, something irreplaceable, might still be inside if the nazis hadn’t looted it. Without a word he moved toward the plane, boots crunching over shell casings and scattered debris. He scrambled up through the open bomb bay, metal groaning under his weight, and dropped into the shadowed interior.

The cabin smelled of cordite and spilled oil. Equipment lay tossed everywhere—rifles, canteens, ammo belts strewn carelessly across the deck as though the Nazis had ransacked the place in haste. Jim’s pulse hammered. He crossed to the reinforced locker bolted near the pilot’s seat. The heavy padlock still hung secure, untouched. A flicker of relief cut through the grief.

He reached up, fingers probing along the top edge of the locker until they closed around a small steel key held fast by a powerful magnet. The key came away with a faint metallic snap. He inserted it, turned, and the lock clicked open.

Inside, untouched, lay the sleek metal helmet and the compact rocket pack. Polished chrome gleamed even in the dim light filtering through the torn fuselage. Jim lifted the pack first, slinging it across his broad shoulders with practiced ease, then took the helmet under one arm.

He dropped out of the plane and straightened to his full height.

Jane stepped forward, blue eyes widening as they locked on the gear. She recognized the distinctive curve of the helmet’s visor, the compact arrangement of thrust nozzles on the pack. She knew the man’s work, seen the designs. She knew the man, she knew his genius, she knew his vril enhanced cock very well… Howard Hughes.

“Jim!” she exclaimed, “You’re a Rocket Ranger!”

 

Next: Chapter Five: Through the Temple of the Serpent

Chapter 4 Notes:

1) The unnamed dinosaur crashing though the jungle before the amazons their prisoners is an ankylosaur.

2) Silphium was a now-extinct plant of the Ferula genus that grew only near Cyrene, where it became the region’s most valuable export and was even stamped on its coinage. Prized across the Greek and Roman world, it was used as a seasoning, medicine, and—most famously—as a contraceptive. Ancient writers like Pliny the Elder claimed it was worth its weight in silver. Overharvesting and its inability to be cultivated drove it to extinction, and legend holds that the last known stalk was presented to the emperor Nero.

3) I named the sacrificed German, Wilhelm for the joke. The Wilhelm Scream is a famous stock sound effect, a distinctive, exaggerated scream that’s been reused in hundreds of movies and TV shows since the 1950s. It was first recorded for the 1951 film Distant Drums and later got its name from a character named Private Wilhelm in the 1953 western The Charge at Feather River. Sound designers—especially Ben Burtt—turned it into an inside joke, sneaking it into films like Star Wars and Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Once you recognize it, you start hearing it everywhere, usually when someone falls, gets thrown, or meets an untimely (and slightly over-the-top) end.

4) Paititi is a legendary lost city said to lie deep in the jungles east of the Andes, often linked to the remnants of the Inca civilization. According to colonial-era accounts and indigenous lore, it was a refuge where Inca nobles fled during the Spanish conquest, carrying immense wealth and sacred knowledge into hiding. Expeditions have searched for it for centuries in regions of modern-day Peru, Bolivia, and Brazil, but no confirmed discovery has ever been made. The name served my purposes for this story.

5) Quechan translations:

Sapa Nusti Intiq means The One True Daughter of the Sun. Hatun Ch’aki literally means “big penis.” Hatun is closer to great or power than big.

6) Chicha: a traditional Andean maize brew, mildly alcoholic and thick. The Inca drank it at feasts, poured it for the gods, and used it in rituals of fertility and celebration. Earthy, potent, and sacred, it was more than a drink, it was a bond between people and the divine.

7) Qhapaq hucha was the Inca ritual of child sacrifice, offered to the gods at times of great need or celebration. Children of noble or special lineage were taken to high mountain summits, sometimes sedated with chicha, and left as offerings to the sun and spirits. To the Inca, it was an act of devotion—harsh, terrifying, but sacred, a bridge between the mortal world and the divine

8) The small chicken-sized dinosaurs are Compsognathus which were known at the time.

9) The jet pack is a classic pulp and sci-fi trope, embodying the dream of personal flight in a compact, wearable form. Popularized in mid-20th-century imagination but rooted in early rocket experimentation of the 1920s–40s, it represents both technological optimism and daring individuality—letting a lone adventurer defy gravity itself. In stories, it often signals cutting-edge, slightly implausible innovation, perfectly suited to heroes in the mold of Dave Steven’s The Rocketeer, comic and movie adaption.

10) Howard Hughes in the Stalwart Universe became Vril-enhanced as a teenager when he was learning to fly, he and his trainer flew over a volcano just as it released a vent of Vril gas. The pilot dissolved, but the Vril enhanced Howard’s body and genius similar to Jane’s bathing in two Nordic wells made her who she is.