Date: Tue, 23 Jun 2015 03:45:59 +0200 From: kris Landon Subject: Africa I finished the last shift. As a life guard, I'd spent many hours in a change room and found out that it could be very spicy at times, watching very hot guys shuck their clothes, sometimes reluctantly in front of their budding friends. Most of the time, like tonight, however, it was a mundane chore filled with screaming towel wrapped brats and and fighting with wet towels and bathers (trunks) and waiting to get the fuck out of here and get on with things. I was going on a world tour tomorrow and today couldn't be done fast enough. Can't say I'm gay. Can't say I ever macked on any of the lads changing, even the very very cute ones. But then I am a bit odd. My folks, well, my Dad, was very super religious. My Mom died in a fire. She went back to get something from the house and died of smoke inhalation. My brother got into drugs very publicly and with fights with my Dad. Then I got into booze very quietly. We both handled our Mom's death our own way. I dunno. Maybe I'm not that odd. Anyway, with my last shift behind me, I said goodbye to my girlfriend, goodbye to my friends and family and tried to sleep beside my packed bags. Most of the trip was fantastic and some of it was awful. I got robbed in Cairo. Got sick in Cairo. Don't go to Cairo. Met friends randomly at the Eifle tower, which was one of the weirdest most random I ever expect to happen to me in my life. But then, as I was walking in Kenya, the coolest wildest thing happened. I didn't speak the language, but managed to find out that there was a place where a traveler could stay for free. Since I was pretty low on cash after Cairo, I was thin and cheap. Being white in Africa did afford some benefits. I got some good advice about this place from a guy in the city and all I had to do was walk to it and get some rest and relaxation time. I'd been on the move for a week straight and thought it was about time to stop. The dirt red road looked the same as it had for the last five kilometers. It was only a ten kilometer walk and I didn't think, or rather hoped, that nothing would eat me on the way over. It was Africa, after all. The green grass, green trees, beautiful sun, red dirt and me and my tired muscles made it to a set of buildings. The main building looked like a big flat house, and the smaller out buildings looked like a smaller version of the big flat house. They really didn't look like much. Everything was nothing like everything was back home. This was exactly why I came here. I stopped at the main house. Some Nuns greeted me. Yep, the habits and all the religious paraphernalia was the first thing that greeted me. My super religious father at home would have had a melt down if he knew what I was doing. I smiled. It was an orphanage that took in strays. I figured I would play stray for a couple days, hang out, give them some money at the end and be on my way. Everyone would be a winner. I didn't speak their language, one Nun did speak terrible English. Together we sorted out the details. "You sleep out" She said. "Outside?" I asked. She laughed. "No. Outside night there dangerous animals. You sleep with boys. Out... ahhh" She struggled to find the word. I had no idea. She turned to a small black boy and said something. I had no idea what they were saying. It sounded like complete chaotic mumbling. He grabbed my hand. His touch was a bit of a shock. His hand, smaller, just guessing about his age I figured it about ten. Maybe eleven. He did seem kind of tall. Maybe fourteen? Well, it didn't really matter. He had my hand and it was clear I was to follow him. We went through the house, through the sitting areas, through the kitchen and out the back door. There was a well worn trail to a little house that looked like nothing. It was smaller, but inside was some old mattresses and a pillow or two. The beds were made of wood in it's most raw form and they were lined both sides of the house. There wasn't any glass in the windows and there was a chest of drawers at the end of the house. The boy jumbled some words at me and patted a random bed in the middle of the house. I pointed at me. "Kris." I said. He looked at me and smiled. "Abasi." He said slowly. Wow. I finally got one word out of the thousands I've heard. I shook his hand and repeated his name. "Abasi." and his smile somehow widened. "Kris." He said. He motioned and grabbed at my pack to put it on the bed. Some people say that seventy percent of communication is body. This is mostly true. The thirty percent of the words along with some of the nuances of words can, at times, mean life or death. This time, the boy, or rather Abasi, wanted me to put my pack on the bed. That was where I'd be staying the next couple of days. It was well past late afternoon and the Sun was threatening to fall. Abasi grabbed my hand again and I willingly followed him. We went out into the yard, that is, the space between the houses, and there appeared about ten or twelve black boys, all with sparkling white teeth and worn old clean clothes. They smiled and the cacophony of language was almost deafening. They mobbed me. White guys don't stop by much I guess. They touched my dirty blond hair as I knelt down so that we could all be on the same level. My hair was a mess and was threatening to turn into dreadlocks. I did it, I think, to offend my father. If he were here. I was not terribly clean cut and I found exploring boy fingers on my face touching my patchy scruff that wasn't quite a beard. They touched my arm and were looking at my tan line. No. I wasn't terribly open minded and had a very distinctive white patch of skin above my ultra conservative gray boxer briefs. Then they were touching my tan line. Then they were trying to touch below my tan line. "Woah woah woah!" I stood up. The boys laughed as they still talked, all excited, all gibberish to my English ears. Then a Nun appeared and said some words and the boys scattered. She then said to me, "Food time." I smiled. Saved by the bell, I guess. Supper, as we call it, "Food time" as Sister Jamala called it, was simple and scarce. A meat of some sort, some vegetable of a kind and bugs, maybe. I ate it all. Not eating anything on your plate in Africa is a very large very unforgivable insult. And the sun sank. The food was done and before the last ray of light disappeared behind the horizon, I found myself hand in hand with Abasi, who it would seem was my unofficial tour guide. He took me back to the shed where my pack was and before I knew it there was me, a twenty year old hunky lily-white-assed ex-lifeguard in the midst of a bunch of white teethed beautiful black orphans. A single bare bulb hung above the beds and was turned on as the shutters over the windows were closed. The second thing they did was take off their clothes. There were no Nuns and it would seem that there were none coming. Of course the heat of the day was slow to bleed off and with no fans, we just sort of sat there. It didn't take me long to strip down to my nice gray shorts. The boys all watched as they expected me to go further. Abasi said some words and touched my underpants and was prying under to see my very white non-tanned ass. I gently grabbed his hands and indicated I didn't approve. One of the older boys said something and Abasi said something to me. It could have been an apology of some sort. I smiled. That was an international signal among all the people of the world. All was good. Abashi, it would seem, had just hit puberty and his balls were low and his hair, the blackest curliest substance on the face of the earth smudged the top of his boys. He smiled back. All of the lads were perfectly fine buck naked, no ounce of fat between the thirteen of them. I finally counted. Some of them were even rubbing their hardened wieners. I being straight, obviously, averted my eyes from the masturbaters and let them have their privacy. Also a visitor, I wouldn't want to make them feel uncomfortable, if this, and obviously was, their natural way of doing things. Nudity, it seemed, was totally okay among them along with openly rubbing their stuff. Being blunt, and since they were so open with their sex, I would have to say: Their cocks were big! The older boys had ones bigger than mine and I wasn't short changed in that department either, though there was a couple boys, about eight or nine that had perfect small packages without any hair anywhere private whatsoever. Smooth everywhere. All thirteen were impressive in a variety of ways. I pulled out my sleeping bag and was tucked on top of it, because it was way too hot to tuck into it, and the long day and ten kilometer walk didn't take long to settle on me and before I knew it, I was asleep. Naked black boys masturbating boys or not, I was god-damned-spent. The first rays of light poked through the cracks of the shutters. Then they were flung open. Sunlight flooded the shack. I had a woody. It was average among these peers. I didn't really try to hide it. Well, the morning wood came. The other naked boys, well, some of them had wooders too and I didn't think that considering I was smaller than some of the massive cocks around me, cloaked with my religious underwear needed to hide anything. Abasi stared at it without trying to conceal it. I got harder. Then I put on my cargo shorts and a light white tee shirt. The other boys dressed. Everything softened. Breakfast consisted of some food. There was nothing really describable on the table. Sister Jamala said, "Kris. Boys swim. Be careful. Monsters in middle of lake." Oh. Did I forget to mention that the whole place was on the edge of a beautiful fucking lake? A gorgeous body of water I figured was infested with crocodiles or something. Sister Jamala, in four very broken non-sentences told me that the shores were fine, but 'danger' lurked in the middle. I did a mental catalog of the wildlife in Kenya. There was nothing dangerous that lived only in the center of a body of fresh water. It was probably a myth to save the boys from drowning in the deep end. And I loved to swim. I didn't get to be a lifeguard by staying in the shallow end. So first thing, morning swim. Holy-fucking-shit-hallelujah! The boys got to the edge of the lake and flogged their clothes on the ground. Of course they swam naked. This is Africa. I did the same, but with my nice bathers strategically placed underneath. Not all of them. Of course. I'm straight. Right? And besides. They would laugh at this lily-white ass. And I'm not gay. I don't like boys. But they were there. Black boys with no fat. Muscles carved their stomachs. Big uncut cocks. Perfection of the boy in all sorts of black. They were completely beautiful. I didn't pause to reflect. My blue bathers, embarrassment as they may, be let me in the lake without the stain of sin, or at least that's what I told myself my father would say. And then, with the water all around, the young boys at the shore. And something inside of me, profound, gave. I hadn't been in the water for over six months. I missed this. I swam. The strokes, even, and trying to become perfect with every stroke, I moved through the water as if I was one with it. Stroke, stroke stroke, breathe right side, stroke stroke stroke, breath left side. The kicking was rhythmic. The African sun shone on my back and my christian blue bathers kept my maggot white ass maggot white. Why wouldn't I show these very open young orphans my weenie? Why am I so suffocating? Why do I not accept sex and allow some feel goodness in my life? I never did it with my ex-girlfriend. Why? Religious taboos or just because I tell myself I'm straight? Stroke stroke stroke breath. My inner questions never quite gave the answer, but when I pulled myself up on to the shore with thirteen beautiful, hormone charged, well hung teens and pre-teens, I felt myself just let go. I wanted to enjoy life. The day went slow. I wanted the pre-sleep shenanigans that my imagination allowed. I imagined me letting them see beyond my bathers, where the sun had not shone. I imagined some pretty fucking kinky shit, and then after hours and hours of African life, it was supper. It was grim again. I noticed that no one complained. It was food. It would keep us all alive another day. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that a Ssiter did some prayer. I bowed my head like them and was very respectful of their religious beliefs. She had that same pious monotone that is in all religious ceremonies. As she droned on, I pictured the night before, with the boys quickly shucking their clothes and rubbing their cocks. I boned up. Do they rub each other? Do they suck? Do they do the unmentionable up the ass trick? They surely will burn in hell for that if they do. I nearly started to laugh and it was all I could to contain the burst of laughter in the middle of the prayer. "Amen." I ate the food. It was gross. It tasted gross. It stuck in my teeth, the gristle that is, of the meat. I think it may have been goat. I didn't ask about the stuff I thought was insect. Well, I never asked about any of it. I ate it and I didn't die of starvation. Again the African Sun sank. Funny eh. It was the same sun back home, but somehow, because I'm on the opposite side of the world, without anyone knowing who I am, or anyone to remember what sin what I've done, or about to do, it becomes the African sun. It is the same fucking sun and it shines on us all. And again, Abasi's hand found mine. This time I found myself holding his back. We walked back to the sleeping hut, or whatever it was. I swung our hands. It was fun to let things loose. He smiled and talked. I had no idea what he was saying. So when he stopped, I started telling him of my girlfriend. "We never had sex, or made love, or fucked or whatever you want to call it." I said. Abasi never said anything back. He just smiled and looked at me and we stopped walking. Abasi tried to let go of my hand. I held it anyway. He stopped letting go as I talked. "We were sort of on the same page. I think I loved her. I loved the way she talked and the way she did stuff, you know, but then she would do stuff that just made me mad. I think she really loved me. She didn't want me to come here. She didn't want me to expand my horizons. She didn't want me to learn about life. She was content with the small town life. I wanted to live. Live life and travel to see boys like you and to expand. To be a better Kris. It's a shame you have no fucking idea what I'm saying." I laughed. And Abasi laughed too, though I don't know what about. We were the last to enter the sleeping house. The naked black boys were everywhere. All thirteen of them. And the ones with black hair above, well, most of them, were horny. I didn't know if I should have done it. I'd never done anything like it before. I guess you got to try it to know if you like it or not. I'm not gay. I did mention that? I dropped the conservative gray underpants to the floor and had every boy in the place looking at my maggot white ass and at my amputated white penis. There was a lot of talking. I have no clue what they said. Abasi was going to reach out and touch it. It was hard. It was sticking up as hard as I remember it ever sticking. He stopped. He looked up at me and asked some question. I grabbed his wrist an guided him to it. His touch sent electricity through my soul. Well, through my cock and balls and then up through my stomach and then to my brain. I guess that's soul. He was naked too. Well, we all were. All fourteen of us. Before I knew it there was a crowd around my thing. Everyone touched it. They fondled it. They ran their fingers through my pubic hair, which was dark, not quite black, and they touched every part of my that was maggot white. The bare light bulb in the center tragically showed how nasty I was. I just laid back and let them explore. The curiosity changed to lust. Lust? I felt the rhythm. Someone was jerking me. So I just reached out to the first cock I could find. It wasn't that hard, or difficult as I should say. We were all hard. There were thirteen of them. I touched him. He was warm. No. Hot. I think he was surprised. But also enjoyed it too. I stroked him. Before I knew it Abasi's voice rose and there was some conflict. He was angry and then an exchange of words. The other boys seemed to back off, well, at least most of them. Abasi ended up talking, or I should say arguing, at length with an older boy. He had a horse between his legs all highlighted by the bare bulb. They argued at length. And then I clued in. It was about me. So I took Abasi's hand and then I hugged him. I was butt naked and so was he. My father would have killed me. But even more so after what happened next. I kissed Abasi's neck, so tenderly. He was a boy. He was a man. In that moment, he loved me and I loved him. The older boy disappeared and the naked bulb went dim. All was mostly silent as I kissed Abasi and caressed him. He did me. I mean we did the unspeakable things they mention in the bible. We did them all. At one point, I had Abasi pinned between the mattress and my hard body, dick in. Stroke stroke stroke. He took it. He liked it. He wanted more. I jizzed. I was done. He was not. I let him have me. We awoke the same as the last, except we were entangled in naked intertwine of naked male flesh. The shutters opened and the African sun blasted in. The next day was a repeat. The night after was nearly the same. Africa is amazing. I stayed as long as my itinerary let me, but one day I said good bye to everyone, Abasi had the saddest face of them all, but I had to come back to civilization.