The savannah heat was as brutal as it was bright. Most animals were wandering about looking for shade. Most who did lavished in moments of freedom from the angry god of the sun’s might. The only ones who weren’t in the shade or wandering about were enjoying fresh dips of lukewarm water to keep them safe and cool from overheating. And even among them, some used the delicious tange of fruits or even bugs to keep themselves full and hydrated. 

But that wasn’t the case for Simba and his Mentor Rafiki. 

Simba was told to follow Rafiki, being given to the Mandrill for the day. 

Normally he wouldn’t hesitate at an opportunity like this. In fact, his adventurous and excited spirit lead him to eagerly follow the older mammal into the early morning. But come mid day, and the little king was quickly losing steam to the heat. Rafiki on the other hand was walking with no issue, as if the sun was keeping him afloat. 

Every step felt like it added more weight onto his body. One last step against the hard rocky landscape they’ve entered and Simba collapsed, panting.

	“Ah! Dis is the perfect spot!” The colorful monkey cheered, raising his cane in hand over the discovered. 

Simba looked up to him, using what energy he had left to cast a confused look at him. Rafiki simply smiled and laughed again.

	“Oh no need to worry about that right now, your majesty!” Rafiki put his trusted bakora staff down on the hot stones. He followed it by laying himself down, using an elevated rock as a hard pillow. “Ahh this is truly the best place to get comfortable!” He seemed to snuggle into the hot stones, treating the stinging heat as if it was nothing more than a simple tickle. “Come come come!” He ushered. 

Following his instructions, Simba managed to crawl over before being picked up off the burning rocks and placed down upon the comparatively less warmer chest of the mandrill. Simba didn’t argue, to tired from the heat and just enjoying the moment of rest. 

The calm began to sink in.

He could almost feel the heat weakening around him.

Rest threatened to turn into sleep.

Just as Simba’s breath began to even out, he felt something tap against the tip of his nose. Opening his weary eyes, the young cub was treated to a site that ne as young as him shouldn’t be privy to. 

What he saw was like a work of natural nature. The shaft was bumpy and prickly, like the knob tree’s he’d seen elephants and giraffes eat from. The size and girth of the thing looked to be as big as a tree. As it bent and flexed, Simba got a good look at the raunchy tip, resembling a big meaty umbrella tree. It was a dark shade of blue, similar to the simian’s fur and looked just as lively. Bulging with veins, thumbing like the hoof prints to s stampede and somewhat intimidating. 

The smell only added onto the menacing appearance standing proudly between the advisor’s legs. It assaulted his sense like a mist, thick and pungent like one of the fruits Rafiki grows, left to bask in the sun after being split apart. A better comparison would be the scent of his father marking territory but… Stronger. Heavier. Simba’s eyes water at just the smell alone.

	“It's the duty of the royal mjuzi to instruct the royal family. As you are in need of a drink, allow me to quench your royal thurs. Now please, open wide…” With little other choice and too dehydrated to think of anything else otherwise, Simba complied. He opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out, awaiting for whatever drink he was about to receive.

Instead, Simba felt the invasive tool being forced into his mouth, into his throat and so far deep he swore he could feel the massive tool basking in his stomach. He heard the old mandrill bellow in delight as he wrapped his legs around the prince’s head, keeping him in place. Rafiki used the sweet smooth mouth as his plaything, forcing him to take his length down to the base and allowing him to finally enjoy some much needed relief. 

Simba was left to be secretly used as a toy for the old mammal, hoping whatever being done to him will result in his thirst being sated. He gagged, and threatened to puke but the tight suction of his throat around the vagabond cock was keeping everything inside. Closing his eyes was impossible as tears welled up, leaving him to look down at the fat blue nuts that hung to the ground. With his nose so firmly against them, the smell from his cock was only a small prologue to the putrid masses that hung below. The smell, sweat and spit between them had gathered and pooled, making him breath in the concoction.

He wasn’t sure what was stronger, the rank smell of balls and unwashed cock or the need to vomit at tasting such a thing first hand. Simba's throat felt wet and sticky like a dried fish set out to bake in the sun. His windpipe felt like it was being crushed from the inside, unable to properly breath as the trunk thick cock made its way through the tight meaty passage. Trying to push away was nothing but a dream, his tired body couldn’t resist being used and taken like a toy for the Mandrill’s depraved pleasure. 

	“Ughmmmm, my prince! You’re drink…. Ohhhh is almost there..!” His words rang true. Simba felt himself moving faster and deeper down the shaft, tasting every unwashed pore and nub that ran across the grotesque member. 
With a violent and gutterla howl he’s never heard the old simian make before, Simba felt the shaft grow, making it almost impossible to breath. The next thing he felt was the surge of a sticky rotten liquid soon fill his belly. He tried backing away off the pole but it was no use. The eruptions of foul smelling excitement soon flooded his mouth, giving the poor cub a full on taste of the pent up and aged spunk.

	“I hope it's to your taste your majesty!!” He howled. The lustful drive he’s denied over the years came roaring back with avengence. So hard, he tightened his hand into a tight fist and beat the rocks as hard as he could.

Simba’s senses were utterly submerged in the awful smell sperm that had been lying in wait inside his balls. Just as he though his “drink” was coming to an end, he felt a secondary series of blasts erupt and fill him up. Being pushed down and tightly pressed, it had no other place to go except his only way to breath. Bubbles formed, popped and blew again out of his nose as his cheeks bulged and failed to keep everything in his mouth. The residue leaked out, combining with the already soaked sack’s previous mixture. 

Slowly, the waves of cum began to subside. The cock meat began to go soft and slowly reside but only far enough to just touch the back of his throat.

	“How was my drink your majesty?” He chuckled, panting and laughing at the wash of relief he’s feeling. Simba tried to say something but it came out as a garbled mess and pops, like a swamp. 

Rafiki would receive his answer. Simba limply began to pull himself off of the fading excitement but the smallest tap of his abused and sensitive uvula along with the over abundance of seed caused a chain reaction. Simba’s eyes lit up once again as a searing hot blast of white-yellowish seed erupted from his packed belly. The freshly dumped seen washed over rafiki’s cock and balls, still firmly in his throat only prolonged the process.He hacked and drooled in excess but it was almost impossible to tell within the sticky mess of saved old seed. 

	“Ughh...huhh!” He continued trying to ease himself up but all he could was retase the spoiled seed again, the taste bing the last thing he would remember before passing out.

	“I see you enjoyed your drink your drink my king. Don’t worry, I’m sure I can give you more whenever you’d like…” The old mandrill laughed. 

He picked up the now passed out lion cub and began to hoof it to a private watering hole far away from any prying eyes. One reason was to clean the prince of their little time together. 

… And the other to indulge in the act one more time before going home.

It’s not easy teaching a king to be.