jungle book

the area found between the legs of a women. aka
-v-g-n-
-p-ssy
-happy hole
-peperment patty
-cherry pie
-friut juicer
-c-nt
-moopy moop
-south of the border
i read her jungle book like a five year old who just learned how to read and is on crystal meth.
an 1894 book by rudyard kipling containing three stories about mowgli and four other animal stories including rikki-tikki-tavi, the tale of a heroic mongoose.

followed in 1895 by the second jungle book which contains five more stories about mowgli and three others.

in 1992 american author pamela jekel wrote the third jungle book which has ten new stories about mowgli.

the mowgli stories by kipling have been adapted for film and tv several times as the jungle book. the most famous is disney’s 1967 cartoon version, but it basically ignores kipling’s story and chucks in a load of songs.
excerpt from “rikki-tikki-tavi” in the jungle book:

then he jumped. the head was lying a little clear of the water jar, under the curve of it; and, as his teeth met, rikki braced his back against the bulge of the red earthenware to hold down the head. this gave him just one second’s purchase, and he made the most of it. then he was battered to and fro as a rat is shaken by a dog–to and fro on the floor, up and down, and around in great circles, but his eyes were red and he held on as the body cart-whipped over the floor, upsetting the tin dipper and the soap dish and the flesh brush, and banged against the tin side of the bath. as he held he closed his jaws tighter and tighter, for he was sure he would be banged to death, and, for the honour of his family, he preferred to be found with his teeth locked. he was dizzy, aching, and felt shaken to pieces when something went off like a thunderclap just behind him. a hot wind knocked him senseless and red fire singed his fur. the big man had been wakened by the noise, and had fired both barrels of a shotgun into nag just behind the hood.

rikki-tikki held on with his eyes shut, for now he was quite sure he was dead. but the head did not move, and the big man picked him up and said, “it’s the mongoose again, alice. the little chap has saved our lives now.”
to get someone, really good. by sending them a picture of a copy of rudyard kipling’s cl-ssic story collection “the jungle book.” or by stroking them across the face mid-conversation and whispering “jungle book.”

that sort of thing reallt gets them.
i totally jungle-booked him the other day. he was talking about his weekend and i whispered jungle book as a response.
this is particularly prominant on ladies of the much older variety where the l-b– hangs down like two covers of a book. to top it all off its covered in so much shrubbery that it resembles the deep forestation of a jungle, so darkly shrouded that the only thing visible is the danglation of flappage.
hey bro are you making eyes at the granny over there. yeah man that’s one jungle book adventure i’d like to take.