Date: Mon, 2 Jun 2003 02:05:12 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: My African Tour: Bush Hopping

Here's Part 3 of the 5-Part series, "My African Tour." In this episode,
our hero takes a flying tour over the African veldt, in an old biplane.
Good for getting a good look at the wildlife, not so good in that you get
bugs in your teeth!

Milford


			       BUSH HOPPING
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     Given the rather obscene amount of money my father had spent for each
of us to take this tour (food poisoning had put the rest of my family two
weeks behind me; they were now on the "see the chimps" portion of the
tour), I was surprised in how much of a shoestring, second-rate manner the
tours were being done.
     First, those chimps were shown off by that wonderful,
until-me-virginal stud Mickey, who knew his stuff but also was the only
tour guide they had, just him and two part-time workers who tracked the
chimps and reported the movements to Micky.
     Then there were the university students at the dinosaur dig for that
portion of the tour; they were given a discount on their attendance fee at
the dig, for taking on the added duty of watching over the tourists while
they dug (I hadn't minded that part, for Patrick and David had turned out
to be mighty warm to snuggle up to during those cold desert nights). As for
both of these stops on the tour, there were no special accommodations save
for a tent with a bedroll (the dinosaur dig had been able to offer me a
foldaway travel-bed) and as for food, it was stand in the chow line along
with everyone else or do without. I hadn't expected personal servants, but
for the price and a person of my father's standing, it wouldn't have been
unexpected, either. As it was, I was practically a guy out on a tramp all
alone.
     But the biggest surprise was when I made it to Mwanza in Tanzania, on
the south shore of Lake Victoria, and I gave the address of the airport to
my cab-driver (he hadn't known where it was, which should have told me what
to expect). I ended up being taken out to a couple of ramshackle hangars
and a dirt runway with two scrawny, old, partially rusted planes sitting
outside of them. I mean, I had wanted to experience Africa, but this was
getting to know the place a little too damned well! The airport (if I may
dignify this mess with that name) was on the edge of town, just beyond some
of the most impoverished slums I had ever seen; the cabbie had rolled up
all the windows and when I cracked one open due to the heat in the cab, I
found out why; open sewers and filth in the street. Phew! I rolled back up
the window and sweated heavily, and so was in a properly foul mood when I
got out, picked up my bag from the trunk (the cabbie didn't offer to help,
wouldn't even get out of his cab, still expected a tip and got mad when it
wasn't enough) and walked over to the hangar to pick up my ticket or
whatever I had to do, all geared up to act like a tourist who had been
ripped off.
     A third plane was inside there, or most of one. It was missing the
engine and a big part of one wing. "Hello!" I called out. No
answer. "Hello!"
     "Hello!" came a sound from behind me. I had walked partially into the
hangar, I walked back out and saw a guy wearing greasy, white
dungarees. "Are you with the tour group?"
     "I am the tour group." I admitted. The groups were limited to five
members, which had just been the size of my family; and with the four of
them running two weeks behind, I was sort of a one-man tour group. I
explained about my mother's and sister's illness and that I was alone. "So
where do I go?"
     "Are they here?" came a voice inside the hangar, one of those
too-British voices that you seem to hear all over the continent when you
hear English spoken at all.
     "He's here, Cody." affirmed the man as I walked over. He was in his
twenties with a tall, thin frame that made the dungarees ridiculously big
on him. "Just one of them showed up."
     "Bloody bother." Cody said as he walked out. Cody was older, well into
his thirties, and sported what looked to be an old Army hat, a dark and
worn brown leather jacket, and a pair of oil-covered hands. He had blond
hair and a weathered face that was all the more handsome for the lines that
now creased it. "I spent the last three days getting the prop fixed on the
Cessna, and now we don't need it."
     "Don't need it?" I said, about to get angry. If he was thinking about
backing out of the deal and leaving me stranded in this desert town, he was
mistaken.
     And he broke into a grin. "With just you and me, we can take the Tiger
Moth instead."
     "Now, Cody," the man in dungarees said warningly.
     "Don't sweat it, Regan, it's the only way to really see the bush."
Cody said. "We can outfit him with your goggles and cap...."
     "But the Tiger Moth isn't...."
     "Goggles?" I blurted out, louder than I intended.
     "Goggles." Regan affirmed. "This maniac plans to take you up in a
rebuilt pre-World War II fighter plane, and you are going to be flying
through the air with no canopy, freezing your face off and picking bugs out
of your teeth. A plane like the Tiger Moth is worse than a motorcycle for
getting bugs in the teeth."
     "You'll be able to reach right out and touch the elephants as I fly
past them." Cody said.
     "He plans to dive down and buzz the animal life." the man in dungarees
said. "You'll crash out in the bush. Tell him to take the Cessna."
     "Ah, you can't see anything in a Cessna." Cody retorted. "Cooped up
inside and peering out of a tiny square window. The Tiger Moth will let you
see everything."
     "It's old and broken-down, put together with tape and paper clips."
     "I've fixed it so much, I can take care of it if it breaks down." Cody
said. "Know that plane like the back of my hand." Held his hand out, then
did a double take at it. "Where did that come from?"
     I had to laugh. "Does the radio in the Tiger Moth work? I mean, if it
breaks down, we'll be able to call for help?" I asked.
     "The radio's brand new." affirmed Cody. "Isn't it, Regan?"
     "Well..."
     "And if we call for help, will someone come get us?" I pressed.
     "Of course." Cody said.
     "Eventually." Regan predicted gloomily. "They're getting a little
tired of Cody and his Tiger Moth."
     "But I rebuilt the engine." Cody protested. "It purrs like a kitten
now."
     "He's crazy, mate." Regan appealed to me. "Don't listen to him. He'll
strand you in the middle of nowhere with a plane that they don't even make
parts for anymore."
     "What do you say?" Cody asked me.
     I considered it. "Flying in the open air and picking bugs out of my
teeth." I said. "Sounds like a hell of a lot of fun, actually."
     "All right!" Cody slapped me on the shoulder. "You're my kind of
tourist. I'll show you everything."
     "Bush hopping in a Tiger Moth." Regan shook his head. "You're both
crazy. I want no part of this."
     "Come on in and I'll show you the plane." Cody said.
     I followed him into the hangar and Cody showed me the plane. "There
she is, mate, what do you think of her?"
     "Looks...good." I said. Regan was right, I should have insisted on the
Cessna! It looked like a poorly arranged hunk of old junk! And World War
II? In a pig's eye! This thing looked like something the Red Baron had shot
down!
     But I didn't speak up and couldn't without making a scene and so some
two hours later, I was wearing a skin-tight cap and goggles and a leather
jacket that belonged to Regan, and as for the coldness of the air, I wished
I also was wearing one of those long scarves you see in the old
movies. They wore them for a damned good reason; my neck was cold and I
wished I had something to pull up around my cheeks!
     But Cody was also right, we spotted a herd of what Cody said were
gazelles, and I got a very close-up look as we flew over them. The airplane
was surprisingly soft-sounding after he leveled us off after the descent
and we overtook the herd and I was only some thirty or forty feet off the
ground, looking straight down at gazelles, wild animals. I could actually
hear their combined hooves as they raced across the plain, smelled their
strong-but-not-unpleasant animal aroma.
     "Whoo-hoooo!" I cheered. "Look at 'em run!"
     "I think I see a cheetah over there." Cody shouted. "Let's go take a
look and see!"
     Cody was right, you couldn't have done this in the bigger Cessna. I
felt almost like I could reach right down and grab one of those racing
deer-like forms.
     There wasn't a cheetah where he had thought there were, and we went
back up only to dive back down to chase an even bigger herd of some sort of
antelope, big brown animals with a very white tail.
     Other than those two herds, it was a pretty dull flight, I'm sorry to
say. The plains don't support a lot of wildlife, and any solitary animal
with a lick of sense would go into hiding with the loud drone of a plane
coming its way. The documentaries pick and choose their shots, and make it
look like the land is alive and seething with animals, when in fact you can
see vast distances with little or nothing living on it.
     "There's a cheetah!" came Cody's shout. "I'll get you a look at this
one for sure!"
     He took off and I had to admit that the animal sprinting across the
plains, away from us and our loud monster machine, was probably a
cheetah. We were closing in and I'd get a good look in another half minute
or so.
     And that's when the plane's engine started to splutter on us. I heard
that sound, just like in the movies when an engine is having trouble, and I
looked around. Nobody around for as far as I could see, and this land was
flat enough for me to see a hell of a long way.
     "Got to take her down." Cody said. "Sounds like a clogged fuel line. I
can fix that."
     "Take her down?" I looked about. "Where?"
     "Don't worry, mate. I'd be a poor tour guide if I didn't know all the
landing strips around here. There's one nearby used by the game
rangers. It's nothing but a flat piece of land, but we can land there and
then call for help." He was right about that, we went spluttering along and
sure enough a pretty big flat area was right ahead. We went into that area
so low I was worried we'd catch the slight rise in the land just before it,
but he got us over that by giving it the gas and I heard a ka-thunk and the
engine stopped entirely and we were coasting in.
     I just grabbed hold of the cockpit's edge with both hands and tried to
remember my prayers. Should have paid attention in Sunday school, but I'd
sort of tuned that all out when they told me having sex with another man
was a sin. I'd already known by then I was gay, so I figured that I might
as well not listen. But there's nothing like being about to die in a few
minutes to make you decide you can live without sex for that long! I was as
celibate and religious as a monk for the remainder of that wild landing!
     So I prayed, and Cody worked the steering mechanism like a madman,
yanking it up and pulling back as hard as he could, and with many a bump
and a heart-stopping lurch to one side that caused us to "pop a wheelie"
for a while, we came down and rolled to a stop, in the middle of the veldt.
     The plane engine stopped and the wildlife all scared to hell and away,
it was quiet on there on the plain, the loudest sound was the wind. Then
Cody got on the radio and asked for assistance, and while he had on
earphones, it was so quiet I could hear the other guy anyhow.
     No help for another three or four hours. Cody got off the line and I
said, "Well, now what?"
     "Want to see the inside of a Tiger Moth?" Cody grinned as he doffed
his cap and put on his officer's cap. He wasn't ashamed or put out by this
at all.
     I had nothing better to do; I watched while he puttered about inside
the engine, handing him a tool now and then (he had a tool kit built into
an compartment of the plane's body). I had to admit that he had diagnosed
the problem, nearly. But instead of a clogged fuel line, it was a
cracked-open part the fuel line came out of (a carburetor? That wasn't the
word he used for it, though) , and there was no way he was going to fix
it. Cody got back on the radio for a time and tried to find a spare part,
but he didn't have any luck. I watched some vultures circling out in the
distance, and then they started dropping down to some spot on the
horizon. Wondered if I'd be next.
     Then I felt Cody's hand on my shoulder. "Hey, mate, you have to expect
these little surprises out here in the bush. We have food and water in the
plane, and we'll just sit and let the wildlife come to us, eh?"
     "Like those?" I pointed to the vultures.
     He laughed. "They've got their dinner. They plan to have us for
breakfast." He sat down on the wing, and after a time, I wandered over and
did the same. The wires were such that we had to sit pretty close together,
but we weren't touching.
     "Hey, those gazelles were something." Cody said out of the
blue. "Didn't you like the way they ran? Loads of fun, wasn't it?"
     "Yeah, it was fun, buzzing the wildlife." I said, and all of a sudden,
I started to laugh. So did Cody, a large, hearty laugh that came from
I-don't-know-where.
     I leaned over to rest against him, still laughing, my head landed on
his chest, which was vibrating from his laughter, and it felt so damned
good, I sort of nuzzled into it and put my hand on it as well. His arms
went around me and I looked up, right into his face an inch away from mine,
and then we were kissing, hard, open-mouthed, all-out. I don't know whose
idea this was first, but we were both willing.
     His mouth had a small spot of peculiar taste at the very first, not
nasty but kind of...alien. Then it was gone and my tongue was wrapped up in
his warm mouth and he was pressing my body, to lie me back against the wing
and he was crawling on top of me. The wing's angle was too steep for lying
down on; I ended up with both my feet on the ground and he was practically
standing, but he was on top and he was enjoying the trip over my body,
kissing my cheek and neck while he opened my jacket, and then it was like
he was too hot to wait; he was reaching for my fly. I didn't fight him, I
just semi-lay there and he got my fly unbuttoned and when his lips found my
cockhead, he shoved the entire thing into his mouth at once, and my cock's
world was suddenly warm and wet, with his throat muscles kissing my
cockhead and clutching and pulling it deeper into him! I couldn't believe
it; he had worked up enough saliva that there wasn't any pain at all, he
was doing deep-throat right from the get-go!
     "Oh, man!" I sighed. It just felt so damned good! He had my cock all
the way down and he didn't let entirely go of it once while he sucked on
it, bobbing his head up and down, his hands reaching under my jacket to
make almost-pushing motions up and down my body, like he was trying to milk
me down the way a farmer's wife milks down the teat and the milk flows out,
only his lips were pressed there to catch every minute drop of clear ooze
my cock generated; I could feel it slimy and timid inside his mouth, being
scarfed up and swallowed by him, and me watching him with the blurred
vision of rising lust, his blond hair waving in the warm breeze that
stirred this dry land and this breeze stroked over my body, it was as warm
as his hands, so that I was being touched all over at once.
     I felt my balls gurgle and I realized that I was close to my
orgasm. "No, stop!" I begged him.
     "What's wrong, mate?" he asked me, still holding onto my cock with one
anxious hand.
     "Nothing. Just... now it's my turn." I said down to him.
     He grinned. "You got it." And I got up and he took my place and I
could reach for that warm crotch of his, feeling the buttons almost sear my
flesh, they were so warm from his body and his lust, and I got them parted
from the buttonholes, and then those tan pants were parting from his tan
body, light brown giving way to richer gold, and I saw the cock hiding like
an ostrich's head in the sand of his pants' leg, and I reached in and
grasped the steaming hot prong, feeling its warm, rich heat as I lifted it
out of its dark cavern and brought it out to the light of my worship!
     God, it was a big one! A rich, purple-red color, even the shaft, and
rock-hard straight out from his body, not the slightest curve or tilt to
its powerful thrust of arrogance, and I embraced that prideful prick and I
wrapped it in the robes of my fingers and then crowned it with my lips and
it wept onto my tongue in gratitude. Thick, heavy streamers of pre-jizz
gushed out of the cockslit and into my mouth, so that I was drenched from
within by his salty manliness, I clutched the heavily-thick foreskin and
felt it roll uxoriously down as I pressed his cockhead deeper into me, and
now it was touching the roof of my mouth, now I had it against the soft
yielding skin at the back of the mouth, and then I felt it seek out and
dive into my throat as my lips touched the base.
     Like him, I just sort of stayed there and held onto it, feeling how
full and satisfying this cock was, not wanting to relinquish even one iota
of it, I wanted to keep it inside me forever.
     But a deep, mellow moan rose from within him, and I yielded my prize,
I pulled up, and again that too-thick foreskin was rankling up in heavy
ridged folds like a throw rug that has been disturbed, and my lips were the
fussy housekeeper rolling it back out again flat, chasing that rounded
ridge to the end of the rug, only here there was no end, it tucked itself
back inside and down, and then I had a fleshy chunk of it, and I had lost
the cockhead beneath it.
     This was not to be tolerated, I immediately reclaimed it and it burst
out from within the navel-wrinkle of foreskin, and kissed me, its rescuer
with more salty smears of joy.
     His cock knew me now and I knew it, I was able to dance my lips up and
down the rich shaft, using that thick skin rather than battling it, it was
now thoroughly coated and flexible beneath my lips and tongue, and Cody's
groans were mellow and full.
     I felt his cock heating up and again I wanted to prolong this. We had
plenty of time. I let go of him, feeling that cock fall away like a
slime-covered god, and I looked up into his flushed face.
     "Now what?" He asked almost petulantly.
     "You ever fuck in an a Tiger Moth?" I asked him.
     He laughed, a low fluid sound. "No, but it takes a bit of doing, I'm
sure."
     "Can we find out?" I asked.
     "You mean after we take off?"
     "For now, let's do it on the ground." I said.
     "Good idea. Get the feel of it before you try to solo." He climbed on
up onto the wing and levered himself into the rear seat where I had been
sitting, his perfect ease marred by the fact that his pants slipped down
and almost snagged on the edge.
     "Now you get in the front." He said. "I think we can manage this if we
work together."
     I was almost puzzled until I saw him stretch his tight buttocks back
out towards the front of the plane, resting his hands on the back of the
seat. Oh! Now I got it!
     I had to stand on the pilot's seat, but I was able to lean forward and
match up my cock for that questing ass. Only then I had to stop and lube it
up some with some hasty spit into my palm, for I had dried out while
tending to him.
     But his ass took me like a pro, there was no struggling or fussing
about coaxing the anus to open, it was a clear path for me and I grabbed
his hips and pressed in and buried my shaft in its boiling insides.
     "Oh, yeah!" He moaned. I didn't hesitate, not with a welcome like I'd
had, I began to hump this sky-stud, and he rocked in time with me, and his
hand reached up and snagged his prick and be began to fuck at his hand from
the way it felt, for his arm didn't move, but his body was being rocked by
my thrusts and it was like he was fucking his hand while I fucked his ass.
     A long, slow time was what I had planned, but mybody had other ideas,
I felt again my cock's temperature rising like the fluid in a thermometer,
reaching up to fill and then burst free.
     I was torn between two desires, the wish to delay and prolong and
enjoy this hunky ass, and the increasing need to blow my nuts clear of
their accumulated seed. I settled for simply keeping the pace I had,
hunching into this blond stud with a smooth rhythm and letting my body take
its own course.
     Cody was moaning with increasing strength, and I now saw his hand
begin to move. Good, he was close, I didn't want to shoot into his unready
body, but his groans were climbing the scale of their unending melody, I
let this tune coax my own body's speed, feeling the tensing within that
signaled the release, feeling the moment rising like a static charge
through my body, as if every hair on my body stood up straight out, I was
filled with power and it had to go, it had to go, now, now, uh, oh, now,
"uh, uh, huh, guh, uh, huh!" I felt myself moaning without my volition, my
body was on automatic and my throat decided to echo and sing a duet with
Cody's, we were now both groaning out our pleasure, and some birds nearby
screeching a countermelody as they flew overhead, kee-kee-kaw!
     "Uh, ha, hah, hah, gah, hnk, gah, hah, hah!" Cody was grunting.
     "Huh, uh, uh, uh, uh!" I retorted.
     "Hah, hah, uh, guh, hukh, guh, guh, guh-HUNNNKKKHHH!" Cody's ass
clamped so tight onto my prick it almost hurt, I gritted my teeth and I
fucked him hard then, mauling his ass and slapping his butt with my hips
while he tried to clamp my cock clean off of my body as he shot his wad
onto the plane's body with a wooden-sounded splatter.
     My nuts were seething, my cock was like the body of the thermometer as
the mercury rises inside it, and then it was at the top, it was too hot, it
was out of there, krack! Whoosh!
     I pumped a heavy load into Cody's butt, me still humping him roughly,
and he was a pliable mush of human being now, staggering almost in
post-coital lassitude, but I was at my crest and my need couldn't be
denied, I held him bodily in place while I blasted my jism into him and I
held on tight to him until the very last dribbles of it fell out of my cock
and I was falling into the warm oblivion of release.
     The plane's body was hot to my balls as they touched it when I sagged
down, I grimaced and pulled back up. "Ouch, damn!" I groaned, still flushed
and weak from the wrenching my body had taken.
     "You can see why people usually don't fuck in Tiger Moths." Cody said
to me, panting, grinning at me in a loose sort of way, like he'd fall apart
at a touch, sweaty and sodden from our exertions.
     "I think it takes a lot of practice." I agreed. Cody turned around in
the cockpit (he did it easily, but he'd spent many hours working on this
plane in all sorts of positions) and kissed me and I remembered that funny
taste.
     "What have you been eating?" I asked him.
     "Huh?" He was confused until I explained. Then he almost blushed.
     "I think it was that blasted fly." he said.
     "What?"
     "Just as the plane was conking out on us." He said. "I was gritting my
teeth and hauling on the flight stick and a fly ran right into my mouth and
fell apart. I spit him out as best I could."
     "Bugs in your teeth." I laughed.
     "The guy in front gets it the worst." he agreed.
     We stayed with the Tiger Moth until they came out with the van, and
while Cody and two other guys began work on the plane, I hitched a ride
back into Mwanza. I had plenty more to see of Africa.

			   THE END OF PART THREE
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