Date: Wed, 08 Dec 2004 16:39:33 +0800 From: James MacMannis Subject: Aboriginal Farmboy / aboriginal_farmboy_09 Author: James MacMannis Subject: aboriginal-farmboy-09 (adult-youth, interracial, rural) Archive; 'Aboriginal Farmboy #9'{James MacMannis}(BB, interr, rural)[] Homosexual, young male sex Adult-youth Interracial Rural setting ABORIGINAL FARMBOY - PART NINE Copyright (c) 2004 by James MacMannis This document may be downloaded for your personal pleasure; however, you may not place the document on a website or reproduce the story for distribution in any media whatsoever without my permission. Please email me at james_macmannis@hotmail.com with constructive comments or criticism. You may also wish to join the Aboriginal Farmboy egroup at aboriginal_farmboy-subscribe@yahoogroups.com. In early September Connie gave me his thesis to read again, this time in the completed format. He had dealt with an applied approach to his study, largely addressing the needs of the community, as related to agriculture, horticulture, and the natural environment. I though it a well presented document and certainly a clever argument. At the appropriate time he submitted the thesis and, as he had completed all of the requirements of his studies, waited for the results to be announced. The seasons changed again when spring became early summer. October was hot one day and cold the next as the rhythm of the seasons tried to equalise, failing miserably in their change management process. We had a lot of work to do on both our properties in preparation for the coming hot, dry summer. November was sultry and hot, becoming more and more uncomfortably as the climate surged in a final frenzy before summer would set in. Violent electrical storms raged in the afternoons and evenings leaving a trail of small bush fires throughout the region. Connie, his arms fully healed and strengthened from the long hours of toil on the farms, had shifted to the cottage and was waiting for Wayan to complete his degree so he could move in with him. One very hot evening all four of us drove to the university to attend a small function for the announcement of the results of Connie's faculty. The faculty administration had put on drinks and snacks in a tree-lined courtyard where trestle tables had been set up. Connie introduced me to his professors and lecturers while Chris and Nick chatted to Wayan on one side of the courtyard, drinks and cigarettes in hand as they relaxed. Eventually the Dean of the faculty stood to make the waited-for announcements. Connie nervously stood by me, his hand gripping mine in his anxiety. Almost all the students of his class had been called and I was beginning to think the worst when, unexpectedly, the Dean spoke again. "We have one result that has not been announced as yet. This result is extraordinary in the depth of analysis, the breadth of topic and the precision of conclusion. So detailed and challenging is this work that we are going to request the author to publish it for use as a major text in the Faculty of Natural and Agricultural Sciences. I am very please to announce the highest ranking ever awarded at this University for an agricultural study, and that award is made as an honours degree with distinction to Constantine Kouros-MacMannis." Applause from the group and cheers from the boys could not drown out the ringing in my ears as my mind played over again the last sentence I had heard. The Dean went on with other matters, advising the group that graduations would be held in the New Year, but I tuned out of the activities. I leant close to Connie and whispered in his ear. "Where did that name come from?" I asked him. "I had our names changed at the registry office last month. The three of us decided we wanted this and we also decided not to tell you, James, because we wanted it to be a special Christmas present for you. I forgot that this would change my name at the university and that any announcements would be made with my new surname. It was a surprise to me tonight as well. Are you upset?" "Oh, not at all, Connie. Quite the opposite! I am so proud of your achievements, and all the more that you chose to bear my name." "If it had not been for you, James, I doubt I would be receiving this degree. I am so pleased that I have obtained it in your name," Connie countered. I don't recall the drive home from university that night. I had much to contemplate and ever so much to be thankful for. We did, however, make the trip safely and, although very tired from the long drive, we sat in the sunroom, now open to the cool breeze of the evening, to enjoy a cup of tea and cigarette before going to bed. Connie had said he was sleeping in our house that night, rather than in his own cottage, and I thought little more of the matter. The usual ablutions complete, I made my way to bed. Expecting Chris and Nick to be there, as had become usual, I was quite surprised to see Connie sitting on the side of my bed waiting for me. "I hope it is alright for your big boy to sleep with you tonight, James?" he asked as I came in to the room. "We have never slept together before, and I would like to do it, especially tonight. It is not a thank you gesture," he went on, "but a sincere expression on my part of the love I have for you and the esteem I hold you in." Connie was not wearing any clothing and his dark complexion highlighted the beauty of his features, almost aristocratic in their finely appointed proportions. I sat beside him. "Connie, I have never expected you to give your love to me in this way. You know I have Chris and Nick who keep me company in bed. I know you have your own boyfriend and I have tried to never interfere in your relationship with Wayan except to help you when you asked. So please do not feel as though you have to do anything to please me. I appreciate the kindness behind your actions, but I will understand if you decide that you do not want to be here." Connie did not speak. Instead, he put his arm around my back and drew me to him, enfolding me in a firm hug and planting a gentle kiss on my lips. With his other hand he turned out the bedside light, then pulled me down into the bed beside him. Turning to face me, he deepened the kiss, softly biting at my lips and thrusting his tongue deeply into my mouth. I felt the prominence of his manhood as it stiffly poked into my groin, so familiar to that of his brothers that I felt he had done this to me before. "Oh, Dad," he cried softly, "You can't know just how much I have missed you." His sobbing became audible and he could not go on speaking for a few moments while he tried to control his emotion. I realised he was dealing with a greater issue than giving me his expression of love: somehow he was also grieving his dead father. I was happy to accept his love in whatever form I could provide. Soon he quietened himself. "Let me love you this way tonight, James. I could not do this before when my arms were broken, and after they healed we were just too busy to think about it. So now I want to have a night where I can show my love for you as I used to do for my father Nikolas. You have taken his place in my heart even though I miss him so much." I surrendered to his manifestation with an unfathomable wonder in my heart. At last I was able to take Nikolas's firstborn into my arms and to love him as I had loved his father before him. What a remarkable turn of events and what a joy it was to complete this extraordinary relationship with my adopted family. Connie ground his penis into mine, the two meshing together side by side as they fought the ancient duel. He continually stroked my hair and ran his fingers gently around my face, seeming to highlight the features he saw there, burning them into his memory. Occasionally he would kiss me again, always softly, with a feeling that was reminiscent to me of great respect, quietly moaning "Oh Dad, my Dad!" Our loins adapted to a slow tempo with no conscious effort at trying to synchronise, yet achieving a perfect harmony nonetheless. Connie had more body hair than his two brothers; and our coupling provided a different sensation for me as I adapted to the feel and texture of his skin. Apart from the time when I had masturbated Connie in the toilet, and then again in the shower with Chris, I had not had the opportunity to explore a sexual relationship with this boy. In fact, I had no need to desire him, as his brothers were very adept at keeping me totally sated. He was the one taught by his father, and I perceived in his motions the same tenderness and love Nikolas had once demonstrated to me. My own need began to grow and I thrust into him with longer strokes, Connie noticing the change and adjusting to the same rhythm. Very soon we were both groping at each other, pulling heads to the other so as to kiss more urgently, thrusting strongly into the other as we neared our orgasm. Connie came with a burst of warm fluid onto my stomach. I felt the warm rush on my skin the instant before I began squirting him with my own spray. It seemed to me that Connie had been saving himself for this occasion, maybe even planning to have this night of release with me for some time. He had no shortage of semen and he continued pumping into me long after my own penis had ceased to flow, his juices squirting out in shuddering torrents and his body melding into my own as the release washed through his entire being. We pushed into each other for some minutes, prolonging the orgasm far beyond what I thought would be possible, savouring the precious moments afforded to us as we let our effusions mingle together. Like his brothers, Connie did not show any sign of deflating, his penis still strongly rigid against me while, at the same time, mine was wilting. I eased Connie on to his back after we had rested a few minutes and I had regained my breath. His tool stood at proud stiffness, still in need of further attention. My mouth began a journey of it's own, leaving his flavoursome lips and travelling down his neck and on to his chest. His nipples were hard and he pushed up a little as my tongue caressed them gently. He did not suffer the same problem I had of over sensitisation in the nipple region, so I took his nipples, one at a time, into my mouth, enjoying the pebble-like texture of them as he writhed in quiet ecstasy beneath me. "James ... Dad ... James ...oh, that is so wonderful," he moaned. I resumed my journey, finding the indentation of his navel and exploring it with the tip of my tongue, causing him to wriggle again. Waiting for me just a short distance further on was his beautiful penis, stretched to its full size and leaking sweet precum from its sheathed head. There was a pool of fluid on his stomach where our combined ejaculates had dripped, and surmounting this collection of fluids was a smaller pool of his precum that had oozed while he waited for me to arrive there. His foreskin was not like his brothers, Chris being very generous and Nick being smoothly tight. Connie's glans was covered with thick skin, but the top bit, perhaps an eighth or a tenth of the total, protruded clear of the sheath. As my tongue found the open patch, he moaned again, involuntarily thrusting towards my mouth, squeezing more of his precum out. As I am want to do, I eased my tongue inside his fleshy sheath, teasing the nerve cells under the skin and sending ripples of sensation through his hard glans. He pushed again, so I let him enter fully into my mouth, my tongue sliding down and under the thick shaft and creating a friction on the more sensitive underside. Without any urging on my part, Connie slid his penis into my mouth, slowly navigating the cavity until he was fully in me. I was not making conscious comparisons, being far too involved in the sensuality of the moment, but he was not as long as his brothers and, therefore, did not reach into my throat, as they tended to do. I had no trouble accommodating the length of him as he began to push slowly in to me. Connie was a gentle lover, much less impatient than his siblings and much more like his father had been. Slowly, slowly he dove into me, feeling each sensation, enjoying each movement, giving to me much more than I was contributing to his pleasure. The thickness of his penis filled my mouth as he pushed and pulled towards another release. When he was very near to his orgasm I felt the surge, the hardness, the swelling, as the semen began to make its way to me. He made a final mighty push until his hairy mound was hard against my face and exploded with several massive jets of his semen. I eased off him a little so I could taste this exquisite spillage and was not disappointed with the delicious sensation of his maturer fluids on my tongue. He thrust back deeply into me, and more strong spurts of his ejaculate made their way into my mouth and throat. It was hard to believe how much semen he had stored in his testicles to present to me. When he had finished, Connie softened a little and was about to pull out of me. At last I made a movement of my own, and I held him tightly into me, not allowing him to escape. I eased my tongue back inside the folds of his prepuce, sucking out the residue of his semen and cleaning the head. He twitched as my tongue hit the more sensitive parts, but stayed with me as his penis partly deflated. Eventually I released him and he took his member from my mouth. Hugging him tightly, I felt a great wave of emotion ride over me. For that brief moment I held Nikolas again, yet I knew it was his son. Connie had such a different way of behaving and the reaction on my part was to recognise someone different in him. We kissed again as I found my way back to lying beside him. "I felt like we have done that before, James. Sort of déjà vu. There is something in me that makes me feel so close to you." "In a way we have done this before. Connie, you are so much like your father. I am sure he must have somehow instilled in to you his love for me." It was a weird and deeply moving experience, such that I can't explain it or try to describe it any more than I have done so in these inadequate words. Suddenly I remembered something else about Nikolas. "Connie, would you like a cigarette?" I asked him. I never smoke in bed, but I remembered that Nikolas used to like to have a cigarette after we had made love and before he went to sleep. "Yes, I am dying for a smoke. How did you know?" Connie asked. "Let's just say that it is a family secret!" I replied as I quickly made my way to the kitchen to retrieve tobacco, a lighter and an ashtray. Some rules are meant to be broken, I decided as I carried these items into the room. Connie gratefully rolled a cigarette and laid back to enjoy it beside me as I watched him smoke. I noticed his penis was still firm, perhaps about half hard, and I reached out to hold it, gently feeling the contours of his manhood and squeezing it while he enjoyed the sensation. He soon became fully hard again and I moved down so I could begin to suck on his virile member. Connie lay there, smoking contentedly as I nursed him. When he finished the cigarette he immediately made another one and lit it from the dying butt of his first, dragging the smoke deeply into his lungs, exhaling it in long streams above my head as his climax built again. His penis swelled and hardened in the final stages of his sexual ride. As the climax neared, Connie took deep drags on his cigarette in time with my sucking motion until he began to shoot out load after load of his creamy juice. He produced an amazing amount of semen; particularly considering the amount of activity we had already had this evening. Shuddering with the impact of the orgasm, Connie stiffened as his body arched a final time and the last drops of his fluid pumped into my thirsty mouth. He lay back on the pillows, smoking more of his cigarette and offering me a drag as I came back to lie alongside him. "Whew," he exclaimed, "I have never come three times in a row before. What a feeling it! I have been waiting for this night for a long time, but I can't believe how much juice I just shot out - it felt like I was never going to stop. Thank you for that, James. Thank you for that, Dad." I loved his presence with me and felt so complete now that all my family had shared their special gifts with me. Connie reached for my still soft penis and would have pleasured me if I had let him, but I assured him I was happier to just lie with him and hold him. Connie lay contentedly on the bed until he had finished his cigarette and disposed of the butt. He rolled in to me, embracing me with such intensity, and we fell into a deep and peaceful sleep in that way, his penis wedged against mine, his lips meshed on to mine, our breathing becoming one, our pulse becoming one. In the morning, after we had shared again the wonders of our bodies and were sitting propped up in bed so we could enjoy an early smoke, Connie retrieved a photograph from the nightstand that he wanted to show me. I had not seen it before, and guessed he had brought it from his personal stuff. It showed a young boy, perhaps early primary school age, spread-eagled as an older man threw him into the air. "That was me and Dad when I was about 6 years old," Connie explained. "I don't have a lot of photos of me and Dad, but this one is special to me and I keep it with me most of the time. I just wanted you to see it." I could not have told if it was Nikolas standing with his back to me in the photo. Yet the young boy he held above him was undeniably a little Connie. The laughter and brightness of the happy youngster in the old photograph conveyed the love and trust he had for his father. Arms and legs splayed out as he flew through the air, Connie was at one with the universe as his father played with him. That moment, captured some 15 years previously, was being shared with me as though Connie once again felt that love and trust as he flew with me in a different way. The multitude of experiences, the grief and the gladness, the education and the responsibility of raising his brothers all condensed in that single flash of time as Connie leaned across and kissed me tenderly. All he said was "Thank you, Dad, for letting me fly again." Yet those few words will forever be etched in my memory as the moment when Connie let me in to the deepest part of his life. A week later Wayan moved to the farm. Connie had commenced his work as my Grove Manager some weeks before and the cottage was fully set up the way he had wanted it. When Wayan rang to say that he had finished at university for the year, Connie drove down to the city in their Volvo to collect him and his goods. Normally Wayan would have returned to his home in Bali for the summer vacation, but he was able to gain a special visa extension for work experience over the Christmas period and in to the New Year. His reason stated that farming and agriculture form the basis of all economics, so he was going to have some first hand experience in ground roots financial principals of an Australian farming environment. I was required to provide sponsorship guarantee for him to ensure his cost of living would be guaranteed and that he would not become a burden on the Australian economy. In the time when all this had been arranged Wayan had gone to extreme lengths to make sure I would not be financially disadvantaged by him staying with us. He arranged for me to speak to his father in Bali who, in turn, was pleasantly surprised when I greeted him in relaxed Indonesian and continued the conversation in similar manner. He had been expecting to have to try and speak to me in halting English, so his relief was noticeable. I assured his father that I would let him know if there was anything that arose where I needed assistance and thanked him for his concern and offer of assistance. He had already provided a medical consent form as part of the sponsorship application, so I conformed with him that if anything serious happened to his son, I would attend to the medical side of things on his behalf. We agreed to meet next time I was passing through Bali so that we could get to know each other better, him offering me the use of their spacious guest quarters in the house so I could stay as long as possible. I was impressed with the conversation and with the man, feeling instantly that this was someone I would enjoy meeting. Wayan was, of course, familiar with the property, having been to the farm a number of times in the past few months. I was not prepared, however, for the exuberance of his arrival. He had not had a chance to talk to me personally since I had agreed to his immigration requirements, and he took the opportunity immediately he and Connie arrived home. Rushing into the house, he dropped his case near the door and ran up to me to grab me firmly around the waist and hugged me so tightly I thought I would stop breathing. He shrugged back his long hair and turned his face up to mine and gave me a brief kiss. "Thank you so much James for your help. I know that you and Dad have spoken, and he was very happy to hear your voice. I got my father to send me something that you might enjoy, and this is my gift to you in appreciation." Wayan proceeded to let go of me to pick up a brown paper wrapped parcel from his bag. Opening the parcel I was pleasantly surprised to find a 5-kilogram sealed bag of the finest Balinese coffee, printed, of course, in the name of his father's business. "Thank you, Wayan. You did not have to do this, but I appreciate it, as we all will." I said, going in to the kitchen to put on water for a fresh pot, thinking I would make us a coffee with the new grounds. "Now, is there anything you need to make your stay more comfortable? I think Connie has made sure most things are down at the cottage for you, but if not, please let me know." Wayan assured me that he would do that, not that he expected there would be anything deficient. Chris was in town collecting some supplies from the agricultural distributor and would be collecting Nick from school to bring him home, so the three of us sat in the sunroom to enjoy our coffee. As always, Wayan produced his kretek cigarettes, offering them around for Connie and I to enjoy. I often wondered how he managed to keep such a supply of them available, knowing that they are very expensive in Australia and that import regulations prohibit the carrying of large quantities of tobacco products into the country. Wayan was a heavy smoker, consuming two or more packs a day. "How do you manage to get so many cigarettes here, Wayan?" I asked him out of curiosity as I lit the proffered cigarette. "It is not that difficult," Wayan replied through a cloud of smoke. "My father has many business contacts in Perth and they are always travelling up and down. Many of them do not smoke, or at least they don't smoke these kretek cigarettes, so they are happy to bring back a few cartons with them and pass them on to me. That is how I managed to get the coffee down here also. It is very handy." We chatted for an hour or more till the boys came home from town, then Connie and Wayan decided to go to the cottage so Wayan could settle himself in. I asked them to come back for dinner. Later that night Chris and Nick climbed in to bed with me soon after I had gotten there myself; their naked bodies silky smooth and cool to the touch in the evening breeze. There was an unspoken communication between the boys, I was sure of that. Many times one would react to another before a word was spoken, carrying out whatever it might have been the other was about to ask. This night I saw again how this communication worked. Chris lay on his back at my side, his hand holding mine. Quite without preamble, Nick worked his way over my body and mounted Chris; his stiff penis immediately finding it's way into the cleft of Chris's legs. Chris did not release his hold of my hand, and with his other arm he hugged his little brother to him, urging him to find his release in the comfortable recesses of his thighs. Nick began his movement, gently and purposefully, working his way into the deep cave under Chris's testicles. Nick put his arm over my chest and pulled me into the embrace he was enjoying with his brother. I was stimulated by the lovely sight of these two golden skinned boys so intimately caressing each other, and doubly so by the movement of their bodies as I rolled into the embrace. Facing them, I had Nick's younger body sliding up and down on top of his brother, his leg on the outside of Chris's and rubbing against my penis. I also had the thrusting movement of Chris who was pushing up to meet each of Nick's gyrations, his pelvis adding to the massage of my own penis. Nick was moving faster now as his need rose to a climax. Chris let go of me to stop his brother reaching too quick a climax, tugging him upwards so that Nick moved up his brother's body, legs straddling him, and was at last sitting on Chris's chest, his throbbing penis over Chris's face and barely a tongue length away from my own. Nick's tough feet were now where my penis pointed, the leathery skin, so recently running over rocks, pavement, grass and paddock dirt, providing a tingling sensation to my nerve ends. I pushed towards the upturned sole of his foot, rubbing my dick into the thick skin and letting it slide from the ball of his foot, across his high instep and on towards the heels. At the same time, Chris had opened his mouth to take his brother in to his warm, moist cavity. Chris poked his tongue in to the tip of Nick's dripping foreskin, tasting the clear juice I could see gathered there. I also stuck out my tongue, pushing it in with Chris's so that the two of us were ferreting around inside Nick's foreskin, each searching out delicious fragments there, and providing Nick with an exquisite array of sensory interaction. Precum from my penis was providing lubrication to my journey over the hard skin of Nick's foot, giving me a remarkable consciousness of the durability of the human skin manifest to me in this most gloriously formed and proportioned foot, sensed only through the perceptive skin of my inquisitive penis. His feet, like both Chris and Connie, were very well shaped. Because they had spent the most part of their lives barefoot they had not suffered the cruel torture of encasement and subsequent deformity brought about by shoes. The soles of their feet were a thicker pad of skin, very strong and tough yet at the same time not rough. Of course, my own feet were almost the same texture, but it is so much more enjoyable an experience to explore another's feet when they are so perfect as this. Beside, my penis could not have explored my own feet in this way: I was simply not supple enough to manage the convolution of my body that would be required to achieve this kind of contact. Nick, aware of my contact on his foot, was caressing me by clasping his foot and releasing it again as I moved over it's surface. He, too, was in need of more than just the tonguing we were giving him. He pushed a little, entering Chris's mouth and taking my tongue in there with him. Chris and I withdrew from his foreskin, our tongues bidding each other adieu in a brief encounter before I pulled out of the way. Nick straight away plunged into his brother, finding in the depths of Chris's mouth the solace he needed. Chris closed his mouth over the beautiful organ that had been offered to him, sucking the precum from the tip as he drew Nick along his tongue and into his throat. All this I was absorbing in close visual presentation, adding to the tactile sensation my penis was receiving as it continued exploring Nicks foot. Nick pushed himself further in to Chris, the older brother now capable of accepting him having practiced the art of oral sex with me and his other brothers many times in these past few months since we had first met. The more Chris sucked, the more Nick pushed; the more his feet curled around my penis. His feet were amazingly prehensile and I had the feeling of being gripped in a large calloused hand as his foot worked it's magic on me. Nick could not last long; he was already almost ready to come before Chris had urged him into his mouth. With a lurch, Nick rammed hard into Chris, his penis fully enclosed in the loving mouth. His body was reduced to an uncontrollable contortion as the orgasm took over. I saw Chris gulping mouthfuls of the nectar being forced into his throat, the deep impact of this eruption causing me to quickly reach my own orgasm, spurting my semen onto the tough skin of Nick's foot. Smoothing the way for my final thrusts. Chris, it seemed, had also been receiving his own stimulation. Unseen by me, with his other hand he had been wanking in time with our movements. Now he to arrived at his point of utmost pleasure, his body writhing under Nick and forcing the younger boy to lurch even more into the mouth encompassing his penis. The three of us achieved a unity seldom found in this world. Nick slumped down, somehow wriggling his way to lie partly on Chris and partly on me. Chris held me tightly, feeling every atom of his body alive as it subsided from the climax of his orgasm. I felt spent and satisfied, at the one time exhausted and exhilarated, particularly with my two lovely boys now draped over me in one way or another. We dozed off, gradually falling into a deeper sleep until, several hours later, the chill of the night woke the more exposed boys, their movement triggering an overall wakefulness. We rearranged ourselves more comfortably into the bed, pulling a light cover up to ward of the coolness. In the morning we woke early, each of us with throbbing erection that needed to be satisfied before any thought could be given to the day's work. I took hold of Chris and wanked his hard penis, Nick took mine and Chris took Nicks. In this way we brought each other to a well-timed climax, each spraying the other with the semen coaxed from the impatient tools that had been made to wait all night for this exercise. Connie and Wayan had come to the house by time we had showered and started preparing breakfast. Wayan demonstrated to us how coffee is made in his village, explaining that each district becomes somewhat renown not only for the variety of coffee they grow, but also for how they prepare it. He boiled water and poured it over the grounds in a coffee pot, much as I would have done, but then, after raiding my pantry for some spices and herbs, added these ingredients and returned the whole pot to the heat for a moment to complete the infusion process. The resulting coffee, when he poured out mugs for us, was an exotic taste sensation, combining the richness of his family's Arabic coffees and the cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves he had added to it. We revelled in the drink, immediately appointing Wayan to be the chief coffee maker for the duration of his stay with us. This story, along with supporting photographs, may be viewed by members of the Yahoo! 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