Date: Sun, 8 Jun 2003 22:40:36 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: My African Tour: The Lion Sleeps Tonight

			      MY AFRICAN TOUR
			  The Lion Sleeps Tonight
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     As the tourist lorry lurched and jumped over the rocky parched ground
below us, the sun was hitting my head and neck with a fury that blasted my
skin and sucked every ounce of moisture out of it, I felt my face crackle
and the sweat sizzle to nothingness as it burst out in a vain attempt to
cool me. On my bare skin, that is, the rest of my body sweated and had
drenched my clothes utterly. I was hot, I was dusty, I felt dirty, filthy
and utterly pissed off.
     I was en route to the heart of the Serengeti plain, there to witness,
up close and for real, a pride of lions. I would therefore spend a week
inside a wire-mesh enclosure where I could observe them and be totally safe
at the same time. It was promised I'd be able to see and hear the lions up
close, close enough to almost touch them, a closeness that is usually
reserved for gamekeepers and lion tamers. So why was I so pissed off right
now? And it wasn't the heat, honest!
     Maybe it had something to do with all the others with me on this
trip. That's right, I said others! I was supposed to get a private guide
and a private tour all the way on this trip, and those bastards at the tour
agency had reneged on a contract and the best they could do for me was to
dump me in with a bunch of teenaged schoolgirls under the watchful eye of
three old biddies; who all came from the same private girl's school
somewhere in Connecticut. Bunch of spoiled rich girls from New York City,
mostly.
     That wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the singing. Not
one of these girls had any musical talent that I could spot, but they were
belting out, at the absolutely screeching top of their lungs:
               "In the jungle, the mighty jungle,
               The lion sleeps tonight!
               Oh, in the jungle, the mighty jungle,
               The lion sleeps tonight!
               Oh, weeeee-eeee-eee-ah, we-ah, weem-a-way!"
     And if this wasn't bad enough, they were doing this to coordinated
hand gestures, all bouncing their butts up and down on the seat to the
tempo, rolling their hands over and over each other, all doing a
thumb-point to the right at the same time, and doing all sorts of other
visual shit like that. They looked like they were having a hell of a lot of
fun on this trip and I supposed singing like that and doing like that would
be fun to a bunch of fifteen-year-old school-girls out and about on a
carefully chaperoned adventure. The only problem was, I was the poor guy
who had to sit there and listen to it! Stuff like that isn't nearly as much
fun to watch as it is to do it!
     Like I said, no musical talent in any of these girls. The old biddies
weren't singing, but they were staring at me like I was about to take down
and rape every one of these scrawny, screeching, bone-ugly girls at the
same time. The look on their face was that they had tried sex once, a long,
long time ago, and they didn't like it and hadn't tried it since.
     "All right, all of you pipe down and keep quiet from here on out! You
want to see lions, you can't go caterwauling like that. You'll have to be
mum's the word, got me!" This was bellowed out far louder than the combined
girl's voices singing. It was our tour guide and the only other man on the
trip (not counting the driver, who was down inside the truck; we were sort
of on a raised platform above and behind him). This tour guide was Colonel
Strickland, and you could tell he'd been the bane of many a poor young
man's life in basic training.
     "And you!" He was talking to me, now. "Look lively, lad. Going to see
the simba up close, you will. This will be a trip you'll never forget."
     "Even if I want to?" I muttered. I guess I was louder than I'd
intended to be with that remark. The girls tittered.
     "Now, that's not the spirit. Where's your sense of adventure, mate?"
This was his idea of coaxing, bellowing that out at the top of his lungs,
with a scowl on his face that dared you to say anything but you were having
a wonderful time.
     I could have shoved his jolly-up-damn-it attitude back at him, but I'd
been raised better than that, damn it! All I could do was mutter, "I was
supposed to be traveling by helicopter. And with a private guide. My father
paid for it, you know."
     "I know, mate, and that's the breaks. Make the most of it and don't be
a sad sack, me bucko." Colonel Strickland looked around, "Now, if you'll
look to the right, you can just make out a small herd of giraffe at that
clump of trees out there. Lad, I said to the right! To the right!"
     So I gave up and looked right. He was going to keep on yelling until I
did; he seemed to function on the principle that anybody can be persuaded
to do anything if you'll just shout loud enough. I don't know if I can say
just why this voice of his put me over the top and down into a funk. How
can I describe that grating, loud voice of his, the high-pitched squealing
sounds from the girls, the three silent vulture-bait women glaring at me,
all of this and the hot sun as well?
     All I can say is that these sounds were turning the exotic charm of a
safari trip into the nightmare of boot camp. Look right! Now left! Five
minutes to stretch your legs, but don't go more than twenty paces from the
lorry. That was twenty, not twenty-five, I said twenty!" Like that, over
and over again, with infinite but insignificant variations, for the entire,
long, yellow, hot afternoon.
     I was glad to finally get to the campsite. We arrived in the
horribly-hot heat of mid-afternoon, just in time to see a hell of a lot of
weird-looking animals beating hooves for the horizon as we pulled up. Some
silent tour group we were, the girls were screaming and giggling and
pointing. They thought that the rhino leaving was funny, lumbering off like
he was, his belly swaying back and forth visibly with each movement of his
stocky legs and that ridiculously small tail switching like crazy. I guess
it was funny, hah, hah.
     "Okay, get out and get settled into the campsite." Colonel Strict (my
personal nickname for him) was shouting. "We want to get all our gear
stowed away and then be quiet as church mice so the animals will come
back. This special net surrounding the camp both nullifies our scent and
obscures the view of our bodies to the animals, but nothing muffles your
sound better than keeping your yap shut. So if you want to see anything,
you have to keep mum's the word the entire day and night. One shriek at the
wrong minute and it takes hours to get the animals to come back again. So
get stowed and settle in."
     I looked about, there were two large tents and a lot of smaller
ones. These two large tents were the kind you could stand up in and walk
around, maybe fifteen feet on a side, the smaller tents were Scout-type pup
tents. The girls were shown to these smaller tents, the women were taken to
one of the larger ones, and I looked at Colonel Strict, who had chosen to
leave me until last.
     "Where do I bunk?" I asked him.
     He pointed at the second big tent. "In with me, that's where. You and
me are bunk-buddies." And he grinned like that was a joke.
     Now, as you can tell, I'm not that fussy about my sex partners, but
there was no way I was sleeping with this guy. I mean, it'd be like fucking
a megaphone attached to a hippopotamus. Nothing about this guy turned me
on, and I mean nothing, as in I wanted to get away from him.
     "All right, Uncle William, I've got the sets hooked up." I turned
around and...hey! This was more like it!
     "Thanks, Timmy. Give the first and best set to our star guest here. He
gets first-class accommodations all the way, this trip."
     "Yes, sir." Timmy came up and handed me the set. Timmy was about my
age, and my build, but he boasted a shock of wavy, sandy hair that curled
about his head and blew seductively in the few vagrant breezes that we got
here. He was thin but well-built, and his smile at me was shy and
enticing. "Here you are, sir."
     "Thank you." I said, reaching for the set and brushing the back of his
hand with my fingertips as I did so, deliberately, enough that, if he was
alert, he'd know I did it on purpose.
     He didn't react, just said, "These are whisper-mikes. This set is how
we'll communicate during your stay here. Just select your band and whisper
into the mike and the person you select will hear you. The left earphone is
set to band number one, that's for emergencies only. Be careful not to
select it by accident. We leave bands 2 through 10 empty and unused for
that reason. Uncle...Mr. Strickland is number 11, I'm number 12, and I'm
giving you number 13. Your lucky number, I hope?"
     "No never mind to me." I said. "Easy to remember, anyway."
     "Just remember to whisper with the set turned on. You talk normal and
it'll deafen whoever you're talking to. You select the band, and it will
broadcast to the person's right earphone with that frequency. So you can
talk to anyone here anywhere in the camp with a whisper. It's a little
tricky learning to communicate at first. Just remember that while any
number of people can talk to you, only one person at a time can hear you
speak on any one frequency, except for band number 1. And you don't use
that unless something really horrible is happening. Uncle and I have sets
that lets us talk to everyone at once, so we'll be acting as tour guides
and talking to everyone." His selector was the size of a cigar-box, and had
a lot of buttons on it.
     "Hmm." I worked the selector button, a knob that clicked and a small
display that gave the frequency number in LCD manner, small black lines on
a light gray background. "Clogs up the airwaves, doesn't it, all these
frequencies?" I tested it, found the set went up to 50 for the numbers of
bands the selector had on it. This selector was on a little box the size of
a pack of cigarettes, that I could clip to my shirt pocket and take off to
manipulate.
     "These sets are narrow-band and work for line-of-sight only." he
assured me. "Range is less than five kilometers. Someone with a bigger set
could contact you with it from further away, but you couldn't answer back
so why bother?"
     "No way to call for help from more than five kilometers away?" I
asked, looking at it.
     "Why should you need that?" He answered reasonably. "You won't be
leaving this enclosure unless you're an idiot with a death-wish. We set out
regular food stocks nearby to keep the lions and the other animals hanging
around this waterhole. The lions are all well-fed, but you never know when
one may decide to have you for desert."
     I have to admit, when those sets were handed out, the entire place
quieted right down. The girls got to whisper to each other all they wanted
with complete privacy, so they were happy as clams, jabbering about each
other non-stop from the way they pointed and giggled. Me, I figured out how
to turn off the microphone entirely; I didn't have anything to say to
anyone. And after things were quiet for about an hour, and as we all got
used to the handsets and were looking around to a whispered commentary by
the usually-loudmouthed Colonel Strict, the animals began to return.
     The girls managed to keep it down, I have to admit, just some muffled
"oohs" and "aahs" were all I heard, though I bet a lot of chatter was going
on outside my range. I looked at Colonel's raucous whisper (he shouted even
in whispering!) to the west and saw a small herd of zebras coming in to
water. Further away (he was spotting these things, not me, I just looked
where told) near the horizon, a few elephants were zeroing in on this
scarce water source.
     Colonel Strict started in on his spiel. "The zebra, is a relative of
the horse and greatly resembling the wild ass in habit and form, having a
short, erect mane, large ears, and a tufted tail. The zebra's stripes,
serve as protective coloration in its natural habitat."
     Timmy's voice cut in. "The zebra is the banker of the animal world."
     "Huh?" I said out loud, startled.
     I got shushed by the old ladies who were standing nearby.
     "The zebra is known to loan out anything it has. The animal is in fact
supposed to be white, but has been loaning out its colors for so long and
taking back black in interest payments, it has formed the rather bizarre
looking animal you see here."
     I snickered. Okay, so it wasn't high humor, or even making much sense,
it was better than the encyclopedia I was getting from Colonel Strict.
     "Throughout history, people have prized elephants for their great size
and strength. On the battlefield, soldiers astride elephants have trampled
and terrified enemies. Elephants also have been trained to carry heavy
supplies through jungles and to haul huge logs from the forests where they
once lived." Colonel Strict droned on.
     "The elephant is the bully of the plains." Timmy droned on in
imitation of his uncle. "They will push themselves onto the other animals,
shoving them aside. Their favorite tactic is to force the gazelles to give
them blow-jobs while their mates watch."
     I snickered again, looked about. Timmy was nowhere around. I got up
and began to search. The campsite wasn't large.
     "And to your right you'll see a small herd of wildebeests, also known
as gnus." Colonel Strict said.
     "The wildebeest got its name from the wild orgies they throw on Friday
nights around the waterhole." Timmy said.
     "Is that so?" I asked him softly. I had found him, he was on the other
side of the campsite, where the kitchen was kept, stirring up a big pot of
something.
     He turned around, looked at me and grinned. "Oh, yes, the wildebeest
enjoys forming tremendously long daisy-chains. Nature-lovers from all over
the world congregate to watch them, and sometimes they join in. I have some
pictures if you're interested."
     I had turned on my microphone and set it to his band. "Only if they're
all-male orgies." I said.
     He looked at me, and said, "Oh, absolutely. The women wildebeests are
all quite frigid, you know."
     "There you are." Colonel Strict said to me. I turned around, startled,
but he had only spoken to me. Timmy followed my sight and blanched, turned
back to his cooking.
     "Come back to the group, lad, you're missing the sights. It'll be dark
soon, you know."
     I looked helplessly at Timmy, who stared after me, and I saw one hand
rub his crotch as he stared after me. I waved at him and went back to the
water-hole show.
     Colonel Strict kept me right beside him the rest of that day. I don't
know (I don't think) he had heard what Timmy was saying to me, but he was
the sort who had to keep his eye on you. So I got the entire show, along
with Timmy's interjected commentaries, and if you think what he was saying
was wild before, you should have heard him after our little exchange. His
imagination was vivid and complicated, he described the best way for a
cheetah to fuck a rhinoceros for example. I'd tell you now, but it's not
important and funny mostly in context; Timmy had a view from where he was
and he was weaving in how the animals approached each other into his
storyline. All I have to say is that I got and kept a tremendous erection
the rest of that day.
     But we were allowed no chance to be alone. Colonel Strict had taken my
one time of wandering off from the crowd, or maybe he wanted to give me
"the star treatment," I only know he was like glue, talking to me non-stop
about the plains and the animals. Fortunately he was the sort who didn't
expect a response from you, just an ear for him to bend and he could and
did go for hours.
     After dinner, I went into the tent, and he followed me in there, as
well. Two cots, I was hoping Timmy would join us, the tent was plenty big
enough for more than two cots. But it was hopeless, I gave up and got in
bed. Colonel Strict left the light (an electric light that ran off a
battery) going inside the tent, which surprised me, the bright light made
it hard to get to sleep, but he got into his bed and was snoring in no
time.
     I was debating getting up and sneaking away in hopes of finding Timmy
(but which of those tents were his, and which were those stupid girls
probably all still up and talking and they'd never give us any privacy out
there), when the tent opened softly, the zipper going wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-wh!
All the way around from bottom left to bottom right, to upper right and
then to upper left, leaving it a door on hinges.
     Timmy stepped in, looked at me and put a finger to his lips--shhh!
     I nodded and he came over. His body was golden in the too-bright
light, his form let a gray shadow fall over my bed as he approached me, his
hands and arms held forward, crouched slightly, like he was going to catch
me if I tried to escape.
     "Your uncle's in the next bed." I pointed out when I could hiss this
in his ear.
     "I know." he said. "I usually sleep in here with him. Don't worry, it
takes a lot to wake him up."
     Timmy sat next to me on the bed, his slender body a graceful curve,
his hair catching an oval of light to form a near-halo about his head, and
this angelic countenance approached me, and his hands went around me and
then he was pressing his chest against mine, his lips sought mine out and
he kissed me fervently, his body scooted up to join mine on the cot, and I
could feel him as a long, warm form atop my own.
     Excited? I was scared! Was this guy kidding? His uncle was about five
feet away--less!--and he was putting the moves on me?
     When he released me, I whispered urgently, "For God's sake, Timmy,
what are you doing?"
     "What am I doing?" He looked at me astonished, and then grinned a
cocky grin. "I'm going to show you what the baboon does to the leopard, me
bucko."
     The baboon and the leopard. Oh, geez, he'd mentioned that in his long
sexual diatribe this afternoon, but which one was it? I was embroiled in
that thought I didn't notice until too late he'd grabbed my blanket and
peeled it away, to leave me only wearing a pair of boxers. Then I
remembered, "You plan to fuck me? Here, now?"
     "That's right." he said. "Just remember like the headsets, don't do
anything but whisper. The lion," his eyes pointed me at his uncle who was
rumbling in his sleep, "sleeps tonight."
     "You've got to be kidding! But...he'll wake up!"
     "He never has before." Timmy said as he grabbed my boxers and hauled
them down my legs, leaving me naked on the white sheet. "As long as he's
making that noise, we're as safe from him as we are from those lions
outside. It's when he shuts up that you have to watch out."
     I watched as he hauled his fly open and tugged out his cock, a pink
slender scimitar of upwardly curving flesh, tipped with a redder head that
craned upwards, looking like the prow of a ship, a triangular-shaped head
with a slit at the tip. I looked at that cock and I threw my own
boner. Hell, I didn't mind him wanting to fuck me! Just...here? Now?
     Timmy pulled a tube of something from his shorts pocket and squirted
it into his palm, then began to rub the ointment onto his cock. I still
just lay there, afraid to move. God, if this ex-Army officer woke up and
caught me about to do the mattress bounce with his nephew....
     Colonel Strict gave a series of rasps, hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk, like a pig
rooting in the dirt and he turned in bed--away from us. Even on his side,
he snored.
     And Timmy was lifting my legs up. "Ready for a little baboon bump, you
beautiful white leopard?" He grabbed my cock and pumped it. "But that's a
dumb question." He said as he guided his prong up to my asshole. "Just
remember...don't make any noise."
     "The lion sleeps tonight." I agreed. "Just push it in slowly."
     That hot, delicious cockhead slipped into my anus and I gave a choked
gasp. God, this cock felt good! A rich, purple plum of desire that now
nestled inside of me. I didn't ever want him to pull it out. "Oh, yeah!" I
breathed.
     He grinned. "Ready for more?"
     "Oh, yeah!" I sighed again.
     He pushed at his cock and it buckled, he caught his shaft and held it
sturdy, pressed into my anus. His other hand continued to cling to my
ankle, holding my leg up like a tent-pole, then he let it drop onto his
shoulder as he scooted in closer to me.
     When he finished, he thrust his hips forward and I felt that shaft
plunge into me deeper. "Oh, God!" I gasped out. "Oh, oh!"
     "That's half of it, laddy." he mimicked his uncle. "Get used to that
and I'll push it on in."
     I couldn't help but look over at Colonel Strict's broad back and head
of hair, all I could see of him in this position. That and his rasping
grumbles that DID sound like a lion.
     And Timmy pushed the rest of the way into me. God, I felt full, full!
I had this proud, turgid white African prong in my ass, and it was filling
me completely. "Ah, ahhh!" I groaned softly.
     "Shh!" he pressed his fingers to his lips. "We don't want Uncle to
interrupt us now, now do we?"
     "No, oh, no!" I heaved.
     "If he was to wake up, I couldn't do this." He said as he gave a rapid
set of thrusts into bowels. "You wouldn't like that, now would you, me not
able to do this?" and he gave with the rapid thrusts again.
     "I'd hate it if you stopped." I said. "Do it some more."
     "I'd rather do this." He said and he pulled his cock out, held it that
way with just the head in my ass, then plunged it back in roughly.
     "Uh-guh!" was my only response.
     He pulled back out, again that long pause, with my ass feeling so
empty, abandoned, and then he shoved it back in.
     "Uh, uh-hnk!" I groaned.
     "Oh, you like that, too?" he coaxed me.
     "Yeah." I sighed.
     "Then how about this?" he said and he began a slow rhythmic movement
of his hips. His cock went only about halfway out of me before he plunged
it back in, but it was all smooth and uninterrupted, like the wafts of
waves on the shore that reach up, withdraw and surge back over the
darkly-rich sand glistening with salt. It wasn't in-out-in, it was
in-and-out-and-in-and-out, a slow, steady wash of pleasure that rippled
through my body. I reached up for him and he chuckled as I grabbed his
still-dressed form and pulled him on top of me and wrapped my legs around
him. "My little leopard is getting impatient."
     "You're damned right I am." I said huskily. "I'm taking charge of this
little game between the species." And I ground my butt against him, fucking
myself on his cock, and he let me, found my tempo and matched it expertly,
his hips even then denied me the right to expect their movements, he would
make a few hunches into me, then reach up and shift his buttocks to the
left and pump into me from that position, then weave over to the right and
pump me some more, that long dong of his surging against my prostate with
each hunch; I had identified just why it was that he was turning me on so
much, that upward-aiming cockhead of his was bumping my prostate gland
every single time.
     "Oh, damn, Timmy, you're such a good fucker." I said to him.
     His eyes had glazed over, he was lost in his sensations, but it
percolated in and he grinned about five seconds later and said, "Thanks,
mate, your ass is inspiring me."
     "Good to hear that." I said. "Come on, let's speed up this little
animal orgy. I've been clutching my nuts for the past three hours, the way
you talked this afternoon."
     "Ready for this trotter to break into a gallop, eh?" he urged me.
     "A full gallop, yeah, you'd better believe it." I said. "If the
gallops matches the canter, I'll buy the fucking horse from you and damn
the cost!"
     He chuckled, but he began to fuck me in earnest then. A certain amount
of his finesse was lost at the higher speeds, he was beginning now to get
lost in his own passion which always steals a man's brain, but it didn't
matter, I had a steady rub at my prostate now, and I was clutching his
back, holding that khaki cloth with both handfuls, and was bumping and
rutting back at him. His breath was blasting my face in his position, his
face filled my view, a shadowed ruddy face that looked right into my eyes,
watching my response to his plunges into my bowels, those eyes begging me
to urge him on more.
     "Yeah, Timmy, yeah, like that, come on, fuck me, man, harder, harder!"
I said.
     He laid a finger on my lips. "Sshh, you damned fool, Uncle will wake
up." he said to me.
     I ignored his entreaties, the entire camp could watch now for all I
cared, I had him trapped in my ass and I was riding him. I reached up and
caught his finger, sucked on it blissfully and he let me for a time.
     "Yeah, going to milk you out." I said when he released my lips by
pulling his finger away from my clutching lips. "You're going to be left
with dry balls, ever feel your balls totally empty and just hanging there
limp and your cockhead's sore and you couldn't get a hard-on to save your
life?" I was mimicking him in his sordid lives of the animals tales, and he
groaned, and his cock heated up in my bowels. He was fucking me full-tilt
now, the cot was beginning to squeak so slightly in protest at the wiggling
we were doing, and I pumped my prick, feeling the tingles of pre-orgasm
dancing up my belly and over my chest to dive back into me at the
throat. Timmy's cock was a power-tool inside of me, he was drilling me hard
and his drill-bit cock was heating up from all the friction, I saw his face
flush, felt his cock grow hard as a rock and I pounded my cock furiously,
and as he began to gurgle and squelch his groans, as I saw his face blush
bright red and his body spasm and twitch in my grasp, I hit my own climax
and exploded against his body, against his clothes, spraying him liberally
as well as myself.
     His sperm boiled into me, a river of jism that carved a new bed for
itself inside of me, and I was like a geyser spurting with abandon into the
air, not caring where the bursts of hot fountain water landed so long as it
was away from me!
     Timmy finished and fell down onto me, his chest heaving his body
upwards against my own rising chest, his mouth against my ear, his gasps
for breath loud roars in my ears while I pounded his neck with my own
symphony of post-coital panting.
     "Man, you were good." I said when I caught my breath.
     He grinned at me. "Takes a good partner to make a good team. We're
good together, mate."
     "You'd better believe it." I said. "Where are you sleeping tonight?"
     "Got one of the tents." he said.
     "Wish you could stay here." I said as he got up and tucked his cock
back into his pants. His shirt was splattered with my jizz, big wet spots;
I felt ashamed and proud at the same time the way I'd soiled his shirt with
my come.
     "I do, too." he said. "But I'd better go and let you get some
sleep. Don't worry, mate, we'll make other times. You're here for five
days, you know." He left, and rezipped up the tent.
     "I know." I said feelingly. God, a half-hour of Timmy wasn't
compensation enough for sixteen hours of Colonel Strict.
     I got up and was rearranging the blanket on my bed so I could get back
into it, when I heard the tent-zipper again! I reached over and helped
unzip it--those things work best when someone's working it from both sides,
you know--and opened the door. Timmy was there.
     "What?" I asked him.
     "You have to see this." He hissed. "Get your pants on and hurry!"
     I stepped into my khaki pants and padded out bare-footed to see what
he was talking about.
     "Smell that?" He said, sniffing the air.
     I sniffed. It was a powerful aroma. Thick, meaty, strong, dominating,
but thoroughly alien in composition. "Yeah, what is it?" I asked.
     "Keep quiet and come with me." he gestured.
     I followed him to the side of the tent. Looked out through the
camoflauge netting that obscured things badly enough by day, but at night,
made it nearly impossible to see.
     I was so close, I didn't realize it at first, looking through the
net. Right on the other side was a male lion, with full mane. Around
him... "A pride?" I asked.
     Timmy shook his head. "A coalition. All male lions. See?"
     I looked about, shrugged. Most of them were young enough to have
little or no mane, but I wasn't going to argue. "Is that what I smell?"
     "Yeah." Timmy said. "That's the smell of male lions marking their
territory."
     The lions stirred and we hurriedly withdrew. That netting was strong,
but if a lion really wanted to bring it down or climb over it, he could, I
knew.
     From a safer distance, I watched the lions settle back down. "Wow." I
said. "Shall we wake the girls and let them see?"
     Timmy smiled. "No. Let them sleep. The lions sleep tonight, all of
them."
     "And the lionesses." I agreed.
     And there on the peacefully sleeping plains, surrounded by the
slumbering kings of the jungle, Timmy and I embraced and kissed, watched
only by the gently smiling Moon.

			   THE END OF PART FOUR