African Tiger Safari
of
Ginger "the Beast" Mason
genre
zoophilia
African Tiger Safari
by: Ginger "The Beast" Mason
I guess I've always been what you would call a tomboy. I grew up on a rural farm with 4 brothers, and I was the youngest. Our nearest neighbor was about 2 miles away. Needless to say, I didn't have a lot of friends growing up, except for my brothers, who I have to say were always nice to me. Most of the time they let me tag along wherever they were going. Bob, Charlie and Fred were quite a bit older than me, Eddie was closer to my age. He was only 2 years older. They all had guns and what they loved to do most was shoot and hunt. I went along on a lot those. Sometimes the boys would hand me one, and let me take a crack at something. My brothers were very good shooters and I learned a lot from them. How to shoot, how to track, how to hunt. With their help, I was regularily picking off those glass insulators on the poles along the railroad tracks with Eddie's .22.
I got my own .22 when I was 9. That's about the time I became a regular Annie Oakley. My grandfather was a salesman for Remington, and he would drop off entire cases of Remington Yellow Jacket .22 shells on a pretty regular basis. I bet I went through 25,000 of them before I turned 12.
Hunting is one of those ladder climbing type things. You start out with squirrels and gophers. Pretty soon you move up to coyotes and deer and finally you wind up hunting the kings of the North American forest, the Brown bear. I got my first one when I was 14. Each successive rung you climb, the animals get a bit bigger. You shoot them with bigger calibers, and the danger increases as well. Miss a squirrel and it's no big deal. Missing a Brown Bear on the other hand, could wind up getting you killed. There are probably some people wouldn't agree. But I think it's the danger that makes a hunt exciting. The possibility that you might not come out of the bush you walked into. I think that's what for me made it exhilarating.
Over time growing up, I began to have the same opinion about sex. I liked dangerous sex. My first boyfriend Tom had about a 5 inch penis, which I thought was great at the time. Tom was a very nice person. I probably should have married him. I kind of regret that I didn't. I'm sure I would have lived a very happy life as Tom's wife. But I was a danger junkie and thrill seeker. It wasn't long before I started climbing the ladder, bigger dicks, more dangerous boys attached to them. I eventually wound up screwing exclusively niggers. Niggers with 13 inch dongs and bad attitudes. I wanted the kind of man that could drive his penis into me so deep, he could kill me with it. And one that might actually even do it under the right circumstances. I'm 28 now, and I've had some dangerous sex let me tell you. I've had trains pulled on me by entire gangs of nigger drug dealers. I've been raped by niggers probably 2 dozen times. I've been fucked so hard I can barely walk for a week or so. I wish I could go back to being Tom's girl, but I just don't think he could ever sexually satisfy me. I'm too far gone now.
Eventually I tired of bears and I needed more. Something even bigger and more ferocious to hunt. I knew if I was going to find it I had to go to Africa. I did some research and learned that there were tigers in Zambia. Zambia was also home to the Abunu tribe. Abunus are known for having the biggest dongs on earth. Some reaching a whopping 20 inches long, and as thick around as the barrel of a baseball bat. I found a few pictures on the internet and the legends were true. Some of them are literally hung like horses. I booked my trip and was off to Africa.
When I got there, I found Zambia was engulfed in another civil war that blew up just over the couple days before I flew over. It resulted in the usual breakdown of law and order, common to African countries embroiled in turmoil. In case you never heard, African niggers are known for one other thing besides big dicks. They like to rape women as well. When things are calm, usually it's kept somewhat under control. When that thin veneer of civilization blows away on the wind though, it's right back to the law of the jungle. There's one thing you have to understand about Africa. Before us White people arrived, rape wasn't even considered a crime in Africa. More like a vice, like smoking. You probably shouldn't do it, it's not nice, but Africans never considered it a crime. And most still don't today. I know most of you won't believe it because, "we're all the same," "there's only one race, the human race," and all that shit. Few people are able to separate propaganda from the truth when it comes to multicultural bullshit. And it's easy to believe all that crap, nesseled away in your safe little home in the suburbs of Boston or Memphis. I've been to Africa. Very few of those people ever got the multicult bullshit memo, and very few of them buy any of it, amongst the ones that did.
Now don't get me wrong. Africa is like any place. There's good people and bad people. I've met some very good ones there, over the many visits I've made there. There are good people everywhere. But in Africa you find some of the worst of the worst, and lots of them. They're every bit as dangerous as the dangerous animals that live there with them. But for me, that's what I go there for. To get fucked by the wildest nigger beasts on two legs, and to shoot some of the wildest beasts on 4.
I've been in some harrowing situations let me tell you. I was once held captive at the point of a spear for three days, while I fucked an entire tribe of nigger males. But as dangerous as they might have been, what I really feared was the women of the village. I don't think that they appreciated all the attention the White bitch was getting. I knew if I was going to get hacked to death with a machete, it would have been by one of them. The boys were having too much fun to kill me. I was there about 3 days as I said, and I figured I'd worn out my welcome. The third evening late, I kicked the nigger in the balls that they left to guard me and slipped off into the night. I knew I was pushing my luck staying any longer.
I regret to say I've had to shoot a few on occasion. One in particular had me staked to the ground with ropes tying my hands and feet to the stakes so couldn't get away. This nigger had a legit 18 incher and he was really giving it to me. I knew he'd eventually tear something, and I'd wind up bleeding to death internally. As much as I was enjoying it. I knew I had to end it, so I came up with a plan. I told him I was in love with him and that I wanted to cast a spell on him to make his penis even bigger. I also added that it would make bullets go around him. But I couldn't do it tied up. He needed to untie me. Now, American niggers are pretty stupid. African niggers are barely smart enough to breathe. When dealing with African nigger males you always appeal to them in terms of sex, and magic. They're obsessed with both. He bought it and untied me. I danced around him chanting the theme from The Beverly Hillbillies, blew his huge penis one last time just for fun, and then I told him I'd prove it to him that all bullets would miss him.
I had him stand about 25 feet away. I grabbed my .308, and blew his fucking balls off. No really, the bullet slammed into his is sack and it just fucking exploded, sending his balls flying through the air, one to either side of him. I thought it was pretty funny. I've been in some tight spots. But none tighter than that time down near the Bangoo River 2 years ago. I was out for tigers that day, and I got way more than I bargained for.
I guess it was about 6 in the morning. I had slept the night in my Toyota LandCruiser. That's the official safari vehicle of Africa. Now don't mistake it for that little piece of shit they sell back in the states they call a LandCruiser. This is the real LandCruiser. It's about 25 feet long, weighs like 3 tons, gets 8 or 10 miles to the gallon, and It's built like a tank. Africa is full of them, and the first thing I do when I get there is buy one, usually used. I ride it around while I'm there, and sell it before I leave. Most of the time I get just as much as I paid for it, so it never really costs me anything but gas and the odd repair sometimes. LandCruisers have a big cargo area in the back. Plenty of room for all my guns, some food, and an air mattress to sleep on. Some nights I don't get much sleep if I have a nigger or two in there with me, but that night I was sleeping solo.
I got the fire going again and made breakfast in the morning, and then decided to clean up in the river. It was too shallow for crocks so I knew I was safe. I grabbed a bar of soap and cleaned myself up a bit. Africa is nothing but dirt, mud and sand. You get dirty just being there. Now I don't usually go three feet away from my guns at any time, and I always keep them loaded. I guess I got complacent though. I was in a pretty remote area. I hadn't seen a nigger in a day or two, or anything bigger than rabbits for that matter. That's why I was pretty surprised to see him. I'm pretty sure he'd wandered down to the stream for a drink. A big African Bengal Tiger. They're a beautiful animal, truly beautiful.
I actually didn't see him until I heard him. He let out a very brief dull growl. I whirled around and there he was, about 25 feet up the bank from me. I knew I was in trouble. Had the water been even calf deep, I knew he wouldn't come in after me. Cats hate water. Even the big ones like him. But in ankle deep water, if he was hungry enough, he'd come in after me. He stood there watching me for the longest time. I wasn't sure what he had in mind until he growled very loudly and lunged ahead about three feet. A big cat will do that to size you up. He wants to see if you're afraid of him, if you'll run, if you'll charge at him. That initial short lunge is what they do to gauge your intentions or the intention of another animal. That's when I knew it was probably over for me, at 26.
I stood there contemplating my fate. How long would it take? Would it be very painful? What would they say about me in my obituary? Maybe they'd never even find me, or what was left of me. That's when I decided I'd take it like man and go down fighting. Sometimes that's the way a life of a hunter comes to an end. It's only fitting really, I think. Live by the sword, die by the sword. I decided though, I was going to make him work for it, just like they did with me. I never met a tiger that ever made it easy for me. I think that's what always made the hunt fulfilling. I knew I couldn't cheat him out of the pride of the kill that was rightfully his. He stalked me down and he got me. Fair and square.
You see, I have respect for animals. But it's a different kind of respect than what the average loony tree hugger has for them. He thinks they're his helpless little children who need his protection. I know they don't. For me it's the kind of respect one top boxer has for another. It's more of a man-to-man kind of thing. A deep respect that means you give him your best, and you don't make excuses for why you got beat. You praise him for the great champion he is, and walk away gracefully.
I knew I probably didn't have much time left when he began to pace back and forth. I knew he was picking the angle he wanted to come at me from. Once he decided that. There wasn't much I could do about it, and then he was certainly coming. I knew the only hope I had was to get to my .308 leaning up against the fender of my LandCruiser. It was loaded, chamber full, safety off. I figured I had about a zero percent chance of making it the 30 or 40 yards, but... you never know.
I had a cup of coffee sitting on the bank and I was sure it was by then pretty cold. I took off running and grabbed the cup on the way by and twisted off the lid. If it had been hot, I wouldn't have tossed it at him. I didn't want to blind him for the rest of his life, when I knew I was done for anyway. That would have been cowardly and inexcusable. You just don't do that to such a proud and magnificent creature. Even if he is 2 seconds from killing and eating you. I ran about 10 feet toward him and watched as he hunched himself back on his hind legs ready to pounce. I tossed the coffee in his face, cup and all. the cup hit him right between the eyes, and by some miracle it worked. He lurched to the side as I raced by him, and just caught sight of him raising his right leg up to his face as he disappeared behind me out of sight. I looked straight ahead. I took about 5 more strides. My gun was straight ahead of me. It looked so close, I could reach out and grab it. But thinking about that now, looking back, I probably still had 15 yards to go. I think I was just trying to stay positive. Wishful thinking...
That was when the freight train hit me, as he tackled me from behind. All I remember was flying through the air, landing on the ground and rolling to a stop flat on my back. I remember being surprised that it didn't feel like I had his 4 inch fangs buried in me somewhere. Probably my throat. I opened my eyes and there he was standing over me with one big front paw on one side of me and one on the other. His face was about 5 inches away from mine, so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. I could hear him grumbling just ever so slightly. I didn't know what to think. I turned my head a little to see how far away I was from my rifle. I figured after that tumble I was pretty close. That's when he growled at me a little more firmly and I turned my head back to face his. However, I did see that it was just about two armlengths away.
I still couldn't figure why I wasn't already dead. I began to try to think of some kind of plan to make it to my rifle. But I knew this guy was no stupid nigger. He was a professional hunter, his very life, and the lives of his pride depended on it, and I was sure he was very good at it. Then he did something that puzzled me. He began to back away slowly pausing to lower his head down between my legs. He was sniffing my female scent. I looked back over at my gun and contemplated having a go at it when I saw him moving out of the corner of my eye again. And then I noticed something else. His penis was erect. And I began to wonder... does he want to eat me, or fuck me? The thought made me instantly aroused. Raped by a tiger I thought... You know, I might have been able to get to my gun. But this was the chance of a lifetime, to get fucked by a tiger. Maybe the most dangerous sex any girl has ever experienced in the history of the world. I figured even for the chance of it happening, I'd risk death. And if he killed me after, I'd die a happy, sexually fulfilled woman.
I decided to just let him have his way with me, whatever he decided, though I was hoping for rape obviously. Raped by a tiger... now that's the kind of story you tell to your grandsons. I bet they wouldn't be bored hearing that one. He began to purr and pant heavily as he stretched out his back legs and lowered his pelvis down against mine. He made his choice. He was going for the pussy! I could barely believe it, but I was thrilled. He put his front paws beside me and settled his upper body on then hovering just over my chest. I could feel his engorged penis sliding around on my pelvis as he searched for the entry into me. It didn't take him long to find it. He just kept feeling around until the tip of his penis felt warm and wet, and he gently thrusted it inside me. I gasped in shock, and he growled back at me, I think as a warning. He was going to fuck me, and I was going to lay there and take it if I knew what was good for me. He was really doing it. I was really getting fucked by a tiger!
I fell in love with him instantly. He was so beautiful, and he really knew how to treat a woman. He started out slow before gathering pace. I knew it probably wasn't smart, But I just couldn't help myself. I was in love. I reached up and threw my arms around his neck. He stopped for just a moment and growled at me then stared me down eye to eye. I think he finally figured out that I wasn't going to try to get away, and that I was his willing mate. He took a moment to rest his forehead against mine and rub it around a little bit. That's a sign of affection in felines, even big ones like Tigers. They do that when the feel content around somebody they like. I wrapped my legs around him and held him tight around his waist.
He was giving me as much as he had. To be honest most niggers are bigger, even a lot of White men, but this penis was attached to a tiger, and it more than made up for it. I climaxed just before he did, and I growled like a tigress in appreciation. A few moments later while I was still in sexual extasy he began to climax himself. I could feel his penis convulsing inside me and I could feel his warm tiger semen squirting in. I climaxed again. We laid there a few moments together with our foreheads together. He was purring. I was petting the fur on the top of his head, and I kissed him on the tip of his snout. A few moments went by and he rose up off of me and laid down beside me. I sat up next to him and continued to pet him on the neck and head.
It was such a satisfying fuck, and I was so in love I I draped myself over his shoulders and put my arm around his neck and we continued to rub our heads together. I didn't want him to leave. I knew I couldn't stop him, but I did my best to keep him there as long as I could. I scratched him behind his ears and under his chin, cats like that. I think we bonded over the next hour or so just laying there enjoying each other's company, until I began to feel him stir a little. I gave him some space and he rolled over onto his back. Cat's do that to signify they don't feel threatened by you, and they want to be buddies. I wanted to be his fuck buddy too.
I scratched his belly and his chin, and he purred appreciatively. I noticed he was getting a boner again. That's when I had a great idea. I bet no tiger in history had ever had a blowjob before. I was certain he would just love it. I never knew a male that didn't. I scooted down to the far end of him and positioned myself between his legs and hooked my arms around them and gave him the famous two hands, two lips Ginger "The Beast" Mason blowjob. I had him growling, breathing heavy and cumming up a storm in no time. I think if there was any question still in doubt, that pretty much settled it. He was my tiger now. I really must have made an impression on him with that blowjob because he was insatiable. He took me three more times missionary style and I got on top of him and rode his penis like a cowgirl for three more.
That night I let him sleep in the LandCruiser with me. Unfortunately, he ripped a pretty large hole in the air mattress with his sharp claws fucking me one last time before bed. I had to sleep outside in the dirt with him instead, which I didn't mind. Clearly, I'd gone feral. Might as well experience the life of an animal all the way I thought. He laid down next to me and I laid my head down on his shoulder and we fell asleep. I never felt so safe sleeping outside as I did that night. I didn't even need to sleep with my finger on the trigger. In fact, I didn't even bring a gun out with me. I knew my tiger guy would never let anything happen to me.
At about dawn, he gave me a wake up fuck. I guess he had dragged the blanket off of me and was already in position to impale me when I opened my eyes. What a pleasant surprise... I made breakfast, which for me was ham and eggs. And for him, it was the entire rest of the cured ham I had, about 4 pounds worth. I took him down to the river for a bath. I poured a few buckets of water over him then lathered him up with shampoo and rinced him off again. I was right by the way. He did walk right out into the shallow water after me. I don't know if he appreciated me pouring water all over him, but I was giving him a handjob at time as well. He seemed to enjoy at least that part. We fucked all day in the shade, and I spent another night curled up next to him. I kind of wished I could stay there forever, but I wasn't sure what effect I was having on him. He was my tiger guy, and I was kind of worried that I'd instill a taste in him for human pussy and he'd go off looking for more. Maybe he'd innocently wander into a village looking for a ladyfriend, and wind up getting shot. I knew for his sake, I had to get going before something like that happened.
I fucked him one last time when we got up the next morning. I packed up camp while he followed me around. I threw the last of the pepperoni sticks I had a few yards away and he followed them. That gave me enough time to slip into the LandCruiser and start it up. I startled him when the engine started, and I don't think he liked the noise. He stayed away but followed me for a few miles as I drove out. Eventually I looked in the rear view mirror and he was gone. It made me very sad. I don't cry often, but I did there for a minute or two. I knew I was going to miss him. I wish he would have followed me right back home to Lexington.
People often ask me what I named him. I don't give animals names. Animals are animals. People have names. Nothing makes me want to puke more than seeing a dog dressed up in a fancy sweater, wearing a hat with his name on it. Animals belong in the wild, and they deserve respect enough not to be called Misty or Skittles. I don't know his name. Who knows... maybe he has one. For me, he's a tiger.
I went back to Africa for a month last year. I go every year. Usually to a different place, to hunt strange and exciting animals, and to fuck niggers I've never met. Last year I went back to that spot on the Bangoo river. I was still in love. I was hoping to see him there. I'm still kind of a silly young girl in some ways. I always had this big dream that I'd pull up in the cruiser, and he'd still be there, waiting for me to come back. I waited around for a few hours. Cold, hard, shitty reality always sets in eventually. I got back in and started the truck up. I looked in the rear view mirror and there he was. I was so happy. I knew it was him. Every tiger's pattern of stripes are unique. I studied his closely for a couple of days. My tiger guy had two stripes that formed something like a V over his right shoulder. I knew who he was, but would he, recognize me? I shut the engine off and grabbed for my rifle and stepped out of the cruiser cautiously. He stood where he was and didn't make a sound. As I crept closer, he laid down and rolled over on his back. My heart leapt for joy. He had a boner. He remembered me! I knelt down next to him and set the rifle down and rubbed my forehead against his. I spent almost the whole month with him. I bet I fucked him 500 times.
I'm going back three days from now, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed. And this time I'm going to take some video equipment with me. I'm going to film a porn movie with him. Should be about summer of 2023. Keep your eyes open on the bestiality forums for a movie tenatively called, African Tiger Safari. I just got some new silicone pornstar boobs for the occasion, and I'm pretty sure you won't want to miss it.
by: Ginger "The Beast" Mason
I guess I've always been what you would call a tomboy. I grew up on a rural farm with 4 brothers, and I was the youngest. Our nearest neighbor was about 2 miles away. Needless to say, I didn't have a lot of friends growing up, except for my brothers, who I have to say were always nice to me. Most of the time they let me tag along wherever they were going. Bob, Charlie and Fred were quite a bit older than me, Eddie was closer to my age. He was only 2 years older. They all had guns and what they loved to do most was shoot and hunt. I went along on a lot those. Sometimes the boys would hand me one, and let me take a crack at something. My brothers were very good shooters and I learned a lot from them. How to shoot, how to track, how to hunt. With their help, I was regularily picking off those glass insulators on the poles along the railroad tracks with Eddie's .22.
I got my own .22 when I was 9. That's about the time I became a regular Annie Oakley. My grandfather was a salesman for Remington, and he would drop off entire cases of Remington Yellow Jacket .22 shells on a pretty regular basis. I bet I went through 25,000 of them before I turned 12.
Hunting is one of those ladder climbing type things. You start out with squirrels and gophers. Pretty soon you move up to coyotes and deer and finally you wind up hunting the kings of the North American forest, the Brown bear. I got my first one when I was 14. Each successive rung you climb, the animals get a bit bigger. You shoot them with bigger calibers, and the danger increases as well. Miss a squirrel and it's no big deal. Missing a Brown Bear on the other hand, could wind up getting you killed. There are probably some people wouldn't agree. But I think it's the danger that makes a hunt exciting. The possibility that you might not come out of the bush you walked into. I think that's what for me made it exhilarating.
Over time growing up, I began to have the same opinion about sex. I liked dangerous sex. My first boyfriend Tom had about a 5 inch penis, which I thought was great at the time. Tom was a very nice person. I probably should have married him. I kind of regret that I didn't. I'm sure I would have lived a very happy life as Tom's wife. But I was a danger junkie and thrill seeker. It wasn't long before I started climbing the ladder, bigger dicks, more dangerous boys attached to them. I eventually wound up screwing exclusively niggers. Niggers with 13 inch dongs and bad attitudes. I wanted the kind of man that could drive his penis into me so deep, he could kill me with it. And one that might actually even do it under the right circumstances. I'm 28 now, and I've had some dangerous sex let me tell you. I've had trains pulled on me by entire gangs of nigger drug dealers. I've been raped by niggers probably 2 dozen times. I've been fucked so hard I can barely walk for a week or so. I wish I could go back to being Tom's girl, but I just don't think he could ever sexually satisfy me. I'm too far gone now.
Eventually I tired of bears and I needed more. Something even bigger and more ferocious to hunt. I knew if I was going to find it I had to go to Africa. I did some research and learned that there were tigers in Zambia. Zambia was also home to the Abunu tribe. Abunus are known for having the biggest dongs on earth. Some reaching a whopping 20 inches long, and as thick around as the barrel of a baseball bat. I found a few pictures on the internet and the legends were true. Some of them are literally hung like horses. I booked my trip and was off to Africa.
When I got there, I found Zambia was engulfed in another civil war that blew up just over the couple days before I flew over. It resulted in the usual breakdown of law and order, common to African countries embroiled in turmoil. In case you never heard, African niggers are known for one other thing besides big dicks. They like to rape women as well. When things are calm, usually it's kept somewhat under control. When that thin veneer of civilization blows away on the wind though, it's right back to the law of the jungle. There's one thing you have to understand about Africa. Before us White people arrived, rape wasn't even considered a crime in Africa. More like a vice, like smoking. You probably shouldn't do it, it's not nice, but Africans never considered it a crime. And most still don't today. I know most of you won't believe it because, "we're all the same," "there's only one race, the human race," and all that shit. Few people are able to separate propaganda from the truth when it comes to multicultural bullshit. And it's easy to believe all that crap, nesseled away in your safe little home in the suburbs of Boston or Memphis. I've been to Africa. Very few of those people ever got the multicult bullshit memo, and very few of them buy any of it, amongst the ones that did.
Now don't get me wrong. Africa is like any place. There's good people and bad people. I've met some very good ones there, over the many visits I've made there. There are good people everywhere. But in Africa you find some of the worst of the worst, and lots of them. They're every bit as dangerous as the dangerous animals that live there with them. But for me, that's what I go there for. To get fucked by the wildest nigger beasts on two legs, and to shoot some of the wildest beasts on 4.
I've been in some harrowing situations let me tell you. I was once held captive at the point of a spear for three days, while I fucked an entire tribe of nigger males. But as dangerous as they might have been, what I really feared was the women of the village. I don't think that they appreciated all the attention the White bitch was getting. I knew if I was going to get hacked to death with a machete, it would have been by one of them. The boys were having too much fun to kill me. I was there about 3 days as I said, and I figured I'd worn out my welcome. The third evening late, I kicked the nigger in the balls that they left to guard me and slipped off into the night. I knew I was pushing my luck staying any longer.
I regret to say I've had to shoot a few on occasion. One in particular had me staked to the ground with ropes tying my hands and feet to the stakes so couldn't get away. This nigger had a legit 18 incher and he was really giving it to me. I knew he'd eventually tear something, and I'd wind up bleeding to death internally. As much as I was enjoying it. I knew I had to end it, so I came up with a plan. I told him I was in love with him and that I wanted to cast a spell on him to make his penis even bigger. I also added that it would make bullets go around him. But I couldn't do it tied up. He needed to untie me. Now, American niggers are pretty stupid. African niggers are barely smart enough to breathe. When dealing with African nigger males you always appeal to them in terms of sex, and magic. They're obsessed with both. He bought it and untied me. I danced around him chanting the theme from The Beverly Hillbillies, blew his huge penis one last time just for fun, and then I told him I'd prove it to him that all bullets would miss him.
I had him stand about 25 feet away. I grabbed my .308, and blew his fucking balls off. No really, the bullet slammed into his is sack and it just fucking exploded, sending his balls flying through the air, one to either side of him. I thought it was pretty funny. I've been in some tight spots. But none tighter than that time down near the Bangoo River 2 years ago. I was out for tigers that day, and I got way more than I bargained for.
I guess it was about 6 in the morning. I had slept the night in my Toyota LandCruiser. That's the official safari vehicle of Africa. Now don't mistake it for that little piece of shit they sell back in the states they call a LandCruiser. This is the real LandCruiser. It's about 25 feet long, weighs like 3 tons, gets 8 or 10 miles to the gallon, and It's built like a tank. Africa is full of them, and the first thing I do when I get there is buy one, usually used. I ride it around while I'm there, and sell it before I leave. Most of the time I get just as much as I paid for it, so it never really costs me anything but gas and the odd repair sometimes. LandCruisers have a big cargo area in the back. Plenty of room for all my guns, some food, and an air mattress to sleep on. Some nights I don't get much sleep if I have a nigger or two in there with me, but that night I was sleeping solo.
I got the fire going again and made breakfast in the morning, and then decided to clean up in the river. It was too shallow for crocks so I knew I was safe. I grabbed a bar of soap and cleaned myself up a bit. Africa is nothing but dirt, mud and sand. You get dirty just being there. Now I don't usually go three feet away from my guns at any time, and I always keep them loaded. I guess I got complacent though. I was in a pretty remote area. I hadn't seen a nigger in a day or two, or anything bigger than rabbits for that matter. That's why I was pretty surprised to see him. I'm pretty sure he'd wandered down to the stream for a drink. A big African Bengal Tiger. They're a beautiful animal, truly beautiful.
I actually didn't see him until I heard him. He let out a very brief dull growl. I whirled around and there he was, about 25 feet up the bank from me. I knew I was in trouble. Had the water been even calf deep, I knew he wouldn't come in after me. Cats hate water. Even the big ones like him. But in ankle deep water, if he was hungry enough, he'd come in after me. He stood there watching me for the longest time. I wasn't sure what he had in mind until he growled very loudly and lunged ahead about three feet. A big cat will do that to size you up. He wants to see if you're afraid of him, if you'll run, if you'll charge at him. That initial short lunge is what they do to gauge your intentions or the intention of another animal. That's when I knew it was probably over for me, at 26.
I stood there contemplating my fate. How long would it take? Would it be very painful? What would they say about me in my obituary? Maybe they'd never even find me, or what was left of me. That's when I decided I'd take it like man and go down fighting. Sometimes that's the way a life of a hunter comes to an end. It's only fitting really, I think. Live by the sword, die by the sword. I decided though, I was going to make him work for it, just like they did with me. I never met a tiger that ever made it easy for me. I think that's what always made the hunt fulfilling. I knew I couldn't cheat him out of the pride of the kill that was rightfully his. He stalked me down and he got me. Fair and square.
You see, I have respect for animals. But it's a different kind of respect than what the average loony tree hugger has for them. He thinks they're his helpless little children who need his protection. I know they don't. For me it's the kind of respect one top boxer has for another. It's more of a man-to-man kind of thing. A deep respect that means you give him your best, and you don't make excuses for why you got beat. You praise him for the great champion he is, and walk away gracefully.
I knew I probably didn't have much time left when he began to pace back and forth. I knew he was picking the angle he wanted to come at me from. Once he decided that. There wasn't much I could do about it, and then he was certainly coming. I knew the only hope I had was to get to my .308 leaning up against the fender of my LandCruiser. It was loaded, chamber full, safety off. I figured I had about a zero percent chance of making it the 30 or 40 yards, but... you never know.
I had a cup of coffee sitting on the bank and I was sure it was by then pretty cold. I took off running and grabbed the cup on the way by and twisted off the lid. If it had been hot, I wouldn't have tossed it at him. I didn't want to blind him for the rest of his life, when I knew I was done for anyway. That would have been cowardly and inexcusable. You just don't do that to such a proud and magnificent creature. Even if he is 2 seconds from killing and eating you. I ran about 10 feet toward him and watched as he hunched himself back on his hind legs ready to pounce. I tossed the coffee in his face, cup and all. the cup hit him right between the eyes, and by some miracle it worked. He lurched to the side as I raced by him, and just caught sight of him raising his right leg up to his face as he disappeared behind me out of sight. I looked straight ahead. I took about 5 more strides. My gun was straight ahead of me. It looked so close, I could reach out and grab it. But thinking about that now, looking back, I probably still had 15 yards to go. I think I was just trying to stay positive. Wishful thinking...
That was when the freight train hit me, as he tackled me from behind. All I remember was flying through the air, landing on the ground and rolling to a stop flat on my back. I remember being surprised that it didn't feel like I had his 4 inch fangs buried in me somewhere. Probably my throat. I opened my eyes and there he was standing over me with one big front paw on one side of me and one on the other. His face was about 5 inches away from mine, so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. I could hear him grumbling just ever so slightly. I didn't know what to think. I turned my head a little to see how far away I was from my rifle. I figured after that tumble I was pretty close. That's when he growled at me a little more firmly and I turned my head back to face his. However, I did see that it was just about two armlengths away.
I still couldn't figure why I wasn't already dead. I began to try to think of some kind of plan to make it to my rifle. But I knew this guy was no stupid nigger. He was a professional hunter, his very life, and the lives of his pride depended on it, and I was sure he was very good at it. Then he did something that puzzled me. He began to back away slowly pausing to lower his head down between my legs. He was sniffing my female scent. I looked back over at my gun and contemplated having a go at it when I saw him moving out of the corner of my eye again. And then I noticed something else. His penis was erect. And I began to wonder... does he want to eat me, or fuck me? The thought made me instantly aroused. Raped by a tiger I thought... You know, I might have been able to get to my gun. But this was the chance of a lifetime, to get fucked by a tiger. Maybe the most dangerous sex any girl has ever experienced in the history of the world. I figured even for the chance of it happening, I'd risk death. And if he killed me after, I'd die a happy, sexually fulfilled woman.
I decided to just let him have his way with me, whatever he decided, though I was hoping for rape obviously. Raped by a tiger... now that's the kind of story you tell to your grandsons. I bet they wouldn't be bored hearing that one. He began to purr and pant heavily as he stretched out his back legs and lowered his pelvis down against mine. He made his choice. He was going for the pussy! I could barely believe it, but I was thrilled. He put his front paws beside me and settled his upper body on then hovering just over my chest. I could feel his engorged penis sliding around on my pelvis as he searched for the entry into me. It didn't take him long to find it. He just kept feeling around until the tip of his penis felt warm and wet, and he gently thrusted it inside me. I gasped in shock, and he growled back at me, I think as a warning. He was going to fuck me, and I was going to lay there and take it if I knew what was good for me. He was really doing it. I was really getting fucked by a tiger!
I fell in love with him instantly. He was so beautiful, and he really knew how to treat a woman. He started out slow before gathering pace. I knew it probably wasn't smart, But I just couldn't help myself. I was in love. I reached up and threw my arms around his neck. He stopped for just a moment and growled at me then stared me down eye to eye. I think he finally figured out that I wasn't going to try to get away, and that I was his willing mate. He took a moment to rest his forehead against mine and rub it around a little bit. That's a sign of affection in felines, even big ones like Tigers. They do that when the feel content around somebody they like. I wrapped my legs around him and held him tight around his waist.
He was giving me as much as he had. To be honest most niggers are bigger, even a lot of White men, but this penis was attached to a tiger, and it more than made up for it. I climaxed just before he did, and I growled like a tigress in appreciation. A few moments later while I was still in sexual extasy he began to climax himself. I could feel his penis convulsing inside me and I could feel his warm tiger semen squirting in. I climaxed again. We laid there a few moments together with our foreheads together. He was purring. I was petting the fur on the top of his head, and I kissed him on the tip of his snout. A few moments went by and he rose up off of me and laid down beside me. I sat up next to him and continued to pet him on the neck and head.
It was such a satisfying fuck, and I was so in love I I draped myself over his shoulders and put my arm around his neck and we continued to rub our heads together. I didn't want him to leave. I knew I couldn't stop him, but I did my best to keep him there as long as I could. I scratched him behind his ears and under his chin, cats like that. I think we bonded over the next hour or so just laying there enjoying each other's company, until I began to feel him stir a little. I gave him some space and he rolled over onto his back. Cat's do that to signify they don't feel threatened by you, and they want to be buddies. I wanted to be his fuck buddy too.
I scratched his belly and his chin, and he purred appreciatively. I noticed he was getting a boner again. That's when I had a great idea. I bet no tiger in history had ever had a blowjob before. I was certain he would just love it. I never knew a male that didn't. I scooted down to the far end of him and positioned myself between his legs and hooked my arms around them and gave him the famous two hands, two lips Ginger "The Beast" Mason blowjob. I had him growling, breathing heavy and cumming up a storm in no time. I think if there was any question still in doubt, that pretty much settled it. He was my tiger now. I really must have made an impression on him with that blowjob because he was insatiable. He took me three more times missionary style and I got on top of him and rode his penis like a cowgirl for three more.
That night I let him sleep in the LandCruiser with me. Unfortunately, he ripped a pretty large hole in the air mattress with his sharp claws fucking me one last time before bed. I had to sleep outside in the dirt with him instead, which I didn't mind. Clearly, I'd gone feral. Might as well experience the life of an animal all the way I thought. He laid down next to me and I laid my head down on his shoulder and we fell asleep. I never felt so safe sleeping outside as I did that night. I didn't even need to sleep with my finger on the trigger. In fact, I didn't even bring a gun out with me. I knew my tiger guy would never let anything happen to me.
At about dawn, he gave me a wake up fuck. I guess he had dragged the blanket off of me and was already in position to impale me when I opened my eyes. What a pleasant surprise... I made breakfast, which for me was ham and eggs. And for him, it was the entire rest of the cured ham I had, about 4 pounds worth. I took him down to the river for a bath. I poured a few buckets of water over him then lathered him up with shampoo and rinced him off again. I was right by the way. He did walk right out into the shallow water after me. I don't know if he appreciated me pouring water all over him, but I was giving him a handjob at time as well. He seemed to enjoy at least that part. We fucked all day in the shade, and I spent another night curled up next to him. I kind of wished I could stay there forever, but I wasn't sure what effect I was having on him. He was my tiger guy, and I was kind of worried that I'd instill a taste in him for human pussy and he'd go off looking for more. Maybe he'd innocently wander into a village looking for a ladyfriend, and wind up getting shot. I knew for his sake, I had to get going before something like that happened.
I fucked him one last time when we got up the next morning. I packed up camp while he followed me around. I threw the last of the pepperoni sticks I had a few yards away and he followed them. That gave me enough time to slip into the LandCruiser and start it up. I startled him when the engine started, and I don't think he liked the noise. He stayed away but followed me for a few miles as I drove out. Eventually I looked in the rear view mirror and he was gone. It made me very sad. I don't cry often, but I did there for a minute or two. I knew I was going to miss him. I wish he would have followed me right back home to Lexington.
People often ask me what I named him. I don't give animals names. Animals are animals. People have names. Nothing makes me want to puke more than seeing a dog dressed up in a fancy sweater, wearing a hat with his name on it. Animals belong in the wild, and they deserve respect enough not to be called Misty or Skittles. I don't know his name. Who knows... maybe he has one. For me, he's a tiger.
I went back to Africa for a month last year. I go every year. Usually to a different place, to hunt strange and exciting animals, and to fuck niggers I've never met. Last year I went back to that spot on the Bangoo river. I was still in love. I was hoping to see him there. I'm still kind of a silly young girl in some ways. I always had this big dream that I'd pull up in the cruiser, and he'd still be there, waiting for me to come back. I waited around for a few hours. Cold, hard, shitty reality always sets in eventually. I got back in and started the truck up. I looked in the rear view mirror and there he was. I was so happy. I knew it was him. Every tiger's pattern of stripes are unique. I studied his closely for a couple of days. My tiger guy had two stripes that formed something like a V over his right shoulder. I knew who he was, but would he, recognize me? I shut the engine off and grabbed for my rifle and stepped out of the cruiser cautiously. He stood where he was and didn't make a sound. As I crept closer, he laid down and rolled over on his back. My heart leapt for joy. He had a boner. He remembered me! I knelt down next to him and set the rifle down and rubbed my forehead against his. I spent almost the whole month with him. I bet I fucked him 500 times.
I'm going back three days from now, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed. And this time I'm going to take some video equipment with me. I'm going to film a porn movie with him. Should be about summer of 2023. Keep your eyes open on the bestiality forums for a movie tenatively called, African Tiger Safari. I just got some new silicone pornstar boobs for the occasion, and I'm pretty sure you won't want to miss it.
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