Date: Sun, 17 Oct 1999 20:45:41 +0200
From: SA
Subject: African Action

				African Action
				--------------

	I went to Zimbabwe with no hopes of any exciting encounters.  A few
months before, its President Mugabe was proclaiming to the world that his
countrymen, indeed all of Africa, were not polluted by the vice of
homosexuality.  It was not part of African culture, he said.  If pressed,
he'd probably have made an exception of South Africa, where such unnatural
practices can easily be found, clearly caused by the colonialist white
man's imposition of unnatural apartheid.  He'ld have to make one more
exception too, since his bigoted outburst was meant to silence the row over
his ex-president, Canaan Banana, who it seems had been enthusiastically
buggering his favourite uniformed body guard regularly and not very
secretly for a number of years.
	So what was the real situation?  I was determined to find out.  The
resort where I stayed for 3 nights was staffed by some smart articulate
women, but mostly by men. Young men.  Good looking, young black men. All it
seemed, well-built, on the slim side, with big smiles and friendly
personalities.
	Were all Zimbabwe men like this?  Or were these hand-picked by the
resort for just these very features?  A fair number also had handsome,
strong, rounded buttocks on high arses, and close fitting black trousers
with several suggestive bulges.
	Well Mr. President, if you're right, they're either lusting after
girls, or already married and screwing their wives several times a night
once all the kids have gone to sleep.  But it looks like it's going to be
interesting finding out.
	I was greeted at Reception by an efficient young man in glasses,
with just a hint of too, too much charm.  But I was much more taken with
his out front helper, whose badge told me he was Joshua.  Joshua was lithe,
young, not tall, slim, with a strong firm handshake. He moved with the
unconscious grace of a wild male animal.  His face was strong-featured,
with gleaming white teeth, a slow, deep, deliberate speech, and an open
manner.  My heart was giving those little bumps that make your pulse beat a
little faster, and speech a little too eager. I was sure that I could find
excuses to visit the Reception area often.
	Later that first day I took a ride out to one of the local golf
courses, and played nine holes.  I had a caddy called Costa, who I chatted
to more and more familiarly.  But I was too busy with the golf to do more
than find out that he was married with kids, and hadn't any idea where I
wanted my familiar chat with him to lead to.  (Suggestive talk with young
black caddies, while we wander, just the two of us, round the golf course,
with him as my paid assistant, has led on several occasions to satisfying
suck offs in the bushes, and later to wild free for all fuck sessions,
where the strong, young caddy/golfer gets to show how he can drive his
black shaft straight down the fairway for deep holes in one.)
	That evening was mostly spent (wasted?) enjoying a carvery with my
boring work colleague, planning the next day's meeting where I had to
present a key proposal.  It was already late when we finished, so my recce
was more to get the lie of the land than in the hope of finding a willing
sex partner. I found a couple of chairs and was watching the bush area in
the dusk where they said you could sometimes see elephant and hippo
wandering.  Large wild animals do indeed still roam free in many countries
in middle Africa, where there are few fences to restrict them.
	The lights from the hotel behind me were obscured for a moment and
I looked to back to see in silhouette a figure on patrol in boots, a sort
of bush jacket and a large bush hat.  He came over and greeted me - seemed
I had found the spot where he spent much of his patrol, keeping a look out
on the vehicles nearby, and on some large tourist boats used to take
visitors out on the lake to view hippo, wild life and birds.  (If you're a
birder, you must visit Africa - you'll go bananas.)
	We chatted.  His English was extensive, but a little bookish.  Our
chairs were close and as we talked I put my hand on his thigh and kept it
there. He didn't show any discomfort, but in Africa you have to be aware
that there is much physical contact between men which has no sexual
content.  (Friends will walk down the street holding hands in most African
countries, and it means they are friends.  You can do it too with a black
man, and whites may think it strange, but not blacks.  If you hang on to
someone's hand after shaking hands, it means you want to be friends, but no
more.)
	We talked about being a visitor, and I led that on towards being
alone and not having a family to go back to tonight.  He had a wife and
family about thirty kilometres away, and he went to spend the weekends with
them. There was no work where he lived, so he had to work during the week
at the resort.  His name was Themba, and my hand stayed on his leg.  It
started stroking his leg.  Where was my wife, he wanted to know?  I told
him I had no wife.  That I had to find my pleasure in other ways.
	`Do you like men, and not women?' he asked.
	`I like both women and men, but tonight it seems that there are no
women.'
	This was received in thoughtful silence.  After a minute or two, he
removed my hand from his leg.  Ah well, I thought, it was interesting for a
while.
	`There are people walking here,' he said, indicating some other
guests strolling some way off, too far to see what we were doing in the dim
light. So why was he concerned that they should see my hand caressing his
muscular thigh?
	`There are no women here tonight', he said, `not for you and not
for me.'
	I waited, for surely this was to lead to something.
	Then he said, quaintly and rather formally, `I will have sexual
intercourse with you, if you wish.'
	Bang, there it was, right out in the open - no skulking around, no
more hints and innuendos.  However, this was Africa, this was an African
male, married with kids, offering to have sex with me.  But to do what?  To
`make love' as in love between men?  No, surely rather to do than be done
to.  That way he would not be gay, or queer, or homosexual - he would still
be manly, though satisfying another man's lust.  And possibly for reward.
	`How much will you give me?'  The gap between rich and poor is
large in most African countries, as in many other parts of the world where
sex with men can be easily had for reward.  So I was partly prepared.  And
he was indeed very sexy, and partly because it was so unlikely for us to
have reached this point. We haggled.  And agreed. But for the next night.
By now my work for the next day, and sleep, were both calling loudly.
	`When will you come?' he asked, `I will be ready for you'.  That
sounded rather interestingly eager, or perhaps he was just making sure the
deal went through.
	The next evening, before going for something to eat, I strolled
across to the patrol post to check out our assignation.  He was lounging
shirtless in an easy chair on one of the boats nearby.  He had a friend
with him - one of the band who were due to play later.  He offered me a
drink from the bar of one of the boats.  It turned out that part of his
remuneration included limited supplies from the bar on board.  I found
another chair opposite him and we chatted for quite a while about
trivialities - the hippo, the weather, the band.
	His naked chest and arms gleamed brown and exotic in the reflected
light from the water.  He got up to get his friend another drink, and I
noticed a pair of handcuffs dangling from his leather belt.  Naturally,
after he was a night watchman and he might have to arrest an intruder.  I
finished up my drink and said I was going for something to eat.  While his
friend's attention was distracted, he leaned close to me and said quietly,
`I will be ready for you when you come later.'
	I don't remember what the food tasted like - I suppose it was okay.
The band started to play, which meant to my overheated imagination that his
friend had left him, and he was now alone, waiting for me to join him so
that he could supply me with sexual intercourse as promised. .
	I tried to eat slowly, and finally finished with what I hoped did
not look like unseemly haste.  I narrowly evaded an invitation from another
colleague to join their party for drinks.  And went by a roundabout route
to his patrol post.  He was still on the boat.  I joined him in another
seat.  I was facing the light and he was facing me, still naked above the
waist, with his khaki trousers and boots on.  I couldn't see much other
than his head and body silhouetted against the light.  I thought briefly of
the handcuffs.  What was I actually getting myself into here?  Was I going
to end up handcuffed as an awful example to visitors not to flout the
Zimbabwe moral ethic?
	`I have been waiting for you,' he said, `I am ready'.
	`Do you really want to do this?' I asked, still wanting to be sure
that he was a willing partner.
	He took my hand, and pulled it across to the front of his khaki
pants.  `I am prepared for you', he said.
	He placed my hand gently on the heavy, swollen shaft in his bush
trousers, and held it there till I began to explore the shape and length of
his hidden black member.  He wanted it, that was clear.  He was hard before
we even started anything.  He pushed his thighs out slightly to let me
explore it better.  It lay across his crotch, stiff and strong, straining
the thin khaki fabric.
	`Come', he said, `we will go to another boat.'
	As he got up, I noted thankfully that he no longer wore the
handcuffs dangling from his belt.  So maybe I wasn't going to get arrested
in the middle of having his dick up my arse.  Maybe I was just going to
have his dick up my arse.
	The other boat was further away and darker, and you could see
anyone approaching well before they could see you.  He hauled out an old
boat seat and put it down in one of the passages.  He lay down and
indicated for me to lie down beside him.  I lay awkwardly and felt for his
trouser fastenings.  He helped me, at the same time reaching to undo my
trousers and open my flies.  He reached my hard dick first and started to
stroke it.  At last I got his trousers open and took his strong shaft in my
hand.  I bent my head to lick and savour the size and smell and shape of
the first Zimbabwe man's cock I was lucky to give pleasure to.
	It was slightly larger than medium size, uncut, and solid muscle.
He pushed my head down to get more of his throbbing tool it into my mouth.
I took it almost all the way down, gagging slightly.  He sighed as I
pleasured his fuck tool, caressing the back of my neck with his rough
hand. It was so awkward I couldn't stay there for long.  When I
straightened up he reached again for my stiff dick, and we stroked and
handled each other.  I hadn't really expected him to touch my dick - it was
a bonus.
	`You have a condom?' he asked.  We stood and as I got it out of my
pocket he pulled my pants down over my arse and started stroking my bare
buttocks.  His black dick was jutting straight out from his open pants. I
rolled the condom carefully onto it, and applied some lubricant.
	Just then he heard a sound from up nearer the hotel.
	`Wait', he said.
	But he made no move, and stood with his cock bearing the condom,
still jutting out hard and strong and powerful in the dim light.  At last
he turned, and said, `Now we will do it'.
	He made me lie down on my back on the old boat seat in the passage,
and lifted my bare legs up over his elbows.  I raised my arse as he pushed
the head of his strong black dick into me, and in a few steady, slow but
irresistible thrusts pushed it home to the root.  My dick was squashed
against his hard brown stomach, as he started to fuck me strongly and
regularly.
	He was breathing like an athlete, pacing himself for the event.
His fuckpole filled up my hole time and again with a wonderful sensation of
solid man muscle, doing its job.
	`I like to do this,' he said, `it's good.'
	If it was good for him, it was also good for me.  His hard stomach
and sometimes his bush jacket pressed and rubbed on my own swollen dick.
The boat seat squashed under me and my legs were jammed against two struts
to hold me still as he thrust his hot, black, strong, pulsating,
penetrating, mantool, spunk shaft, male organ, stiff rod, cock, dick, penis
- his very man hood pulsed into my eager invaded body.
	As he stiffened and ejected his manspunk into me, I felt my own cum
spurting joyfully and naturally into the hot squashed space between our
stomachs.
	`I like to do this', he said again, as we lay close and softening
in the warm scented dark.
	`Did you like it?' he asked.
	`I liked it very much.'
	`Good. I think you liked it.'
	He pointed to the liquid moistening our stomachs as he moved off me
and adjusted his undershorts, then pulled his khaki trousers back on, doing
up the fly buttons with a calm, unhurried, natural rhythm.
	`Maybe we do this again tomorrow night.'
	A statement of possible intent to fuck me up the arse again.  I
could live with that.
	The next day was hard, hard work, but we finished early enough for
me to have a quick swim, and take the hotel bus into the town to sight see
for a little while.  Nice low key centre, with a fair smattering of fellow
tourists.  I had a drink in a bar, chatted uneventfully, finished up and
headed for the place where the hotel bus was due to pick me up.  Vehicles
came and went, including some buses, but none seemed to be mine.  The time
was past, so I asked a local, who said my bus had just come - and gone
without me.
	A bus from a neighbouring hotel came and I jumped on, explaining
what had happened.  By now it was getting dark - the sudden dark of
tropical Africa.  The bus turned off about a mile and a half from my hotel
and the driver asked the only other passenger, who was also walking to a
place along the road, if he would walk with me.  Turned out, though it was
a normal public road, it was quite usual to find wild animals on that part
of the road at night. Two was safer than one.
	My companion was a young man about twenty with a walkman. He let me
listen to the tape - rap rubbish, but it kept him happy as we walked.  But
I managed to get him to stop listening long enough to learn he was a
salesman, unmarried, with a girl friend.  He was staying with his brother
in a caravan along the way on a short holiday from Harare. His girl friend
was in Harare.
	`So no women for you on holiday?'
	As we walked I steered the talk to sex, and teenagers having
problems `cause their cocks keep getting hard.  We had got to the point of
him letting me feel his cock before he turned off to his caravan.  It
stayed resolutely soft, though interestingly large.  We agreed that he
needed a girl for it to get hard, no matter how I stroked and squeezed it
through his track suit bottoms, which he seemed quite content for me to do.
Maybe he was wondering himself if it would stiffen.
	He asked if I wanted to come to the caravan to meet his brother,
but I said no thanks.  Afterwards I wondered about the invitation - did he
perhaps know things abut his brother that he wasn't telling me.  But by
then it was too late - he had disappeared into the darkness.
	I finished my trip back to the hotel and saw a few impala, close
by, wandering into the roadside bush into the deepening dusk.  Joshua was
very concerned that I had walked back through the dark - didn't I know
there were lion and hippo!!  I vowed I would find a way to make a move on
him this very evening - it was my last.
	But first, Themba the watchman.
	When I got there he was entertaining, not just his friend from the
night before, but the rest of the band as well.  I joined them briefly for
a small drink, but thought this was going to take more working out than the
previous night.  So I excused myself, and started back to my room.
	I passed one of the security guards who had earlier offered to wake
me if hippo came into the garden to graze, and exchanged a few words.
Another guard came up and spoke briefly in Shona.  He had a face like a
schoolboy, open and innocent, but a tall and muscular body like a man.
	My meal that night was absolutely delicious, but I rushed, it
making sure that I didn't get trapped by my work colleague or by any of the
others who'd attended that day's session.  But there was a group of locals
who caught my interest - a big party with people of all colours and sexes
having a great time.
	I'd noticed a boisterous young man earlier showing off in a very
sexy way.  At one point he made for the washroom round the corner so I gave
it a chance.  He was busy with his denims unbuckled and big cock out
pissing into the stall.  He was a bit drunk and grinned happily and
innocently while I joined him, but the chat went nowhere and he lurched off
back to the party.
	Time for Themba.
	The boat was still full of friends.  He saw me and asked me over
for another drink.  I said no, I'll stop by later.  So that left me at a
loose end for a while.  I went back to reception and saw Joshua leading an
elderly couple off towards their room, right at the other side of the
hotel.  I found a quiet place to lean against a low wall, where I could see
him at their door, and I could waylay him on the way back.
	He crossed over to talk to me very willingly.  I asked him about
his job, his family He leant/sat against the wall next to me.
	`I think that you know this already.'
	He looked at me puzzled.
	`I think you are a very attractive young man.  You are a very sexy
man.  You are strong and manly, and I like you very much.'
	He grinned, not quite knowing how to take it.
	`I know in this country that they say that it is wrong for feelings
like this between men.  But I have been in many countries, and it is the
same.  Men everywhere have sexual appetites, and sometimes it happens
between men.  I have no wife now, and often I see young men, like you, who
I think are very nice.'
	`You have no wife?  I am not married yet, but you say you have no
wife.'
	`I was married for many happy years, but my wife died and now I'm
alone.  I don't want another woman, I was very happy with my wife.  So now
I would rather meet young men.  Do you mind me talking like this?'
	'No, I don't mind.'
	He smiled that same calm, strong, open smile that captivated me
earlier.
	`I think that you are a strong young man in many places.  I can see
when you stand and walk that you are very strong there.  Is it true - and
is it also big as well as strong?'  I made sure he knew I was talking about
the clear bulge in his black uniform trousers leaning next to me.  I moved
a little closer, testing. He giggled nervously.
	`Ah, no it is not so big, but yes, it is strong.'
	I moved my hand underneath his bent leg, and stroked close to the
underside of his crotch.  He stayed still.
	`I think it is in there, waiting for something nice to happen.'
	He put his hand on my arm, and nodded his head towards the outline
of the hotel a little way away.  The security guard was watching us from a
distance.  He started to move towards us.  I removed my hand, and we made
safe small talk.  What had the guard seen?  Was I going to be arrested?
What would Joshua say if asked?
	The guard's name was Jabulani, and he just wanted to join in the
conversation it seemed.  So - no handcuffs this time.  We chatted some
more, I said I was leaving tomorrow and I wouldn't have a chance to talk to
Joshua again about his hopes etc. etc.  As we strung this out, the guard
wandered off again, but not too far away.  I could see that, despite my
interest in Joshua, nothing was going to come of this, so reluctantly bade
him goodnight as he went back to Reception.  I wondered if Themba was now
ready `to have sexual intercourse with me' once more, fucking me on the
seat on the boat in his assured style.
	I got up and spoke to the guard on my way.  It was the same
young-faced one I had noticed earlier.  He was leaning against a wooden
fence in a very casual manner, arms splayed out, hips jutting forward.  His
dark nylon type uniform was baggy and nothing was clear.  His uniform cap
disguised his features.  But he wanted to talk.  About his job, with
nothing much to do, and all night to do it in.  About the game which
wandered about outside the fence at nights.  And me.
	What had I been talking about with the other man?
	This was clearly not any old talk.  This was interested talk.  He
had seen us, Joshua and me, very close earlier, as we talked.  Did he
suspect anything?
	I moved closer.  He stayed where he was, leaning provocatively
against the fence.  We talked about life.  About many things. He is not
married, and we talked about how it is like for a young man.  And when he
is away from home, and has no wife or girl friend.
	`That is how it is for me', he said.  `I have no wife and no girl
friend.'
	I touched the loose part at the front of his trousers.
	`These are very heavy', I said, `are they very hot to wear?' I kept
my hand there.
	`What do you want to do?' he asked.
	`I want to feel if it is strong.'
	`Yes, it is strong now.'  He waited.
	I reached and felt for his dick.  It was strong and hard inside his
uniform.  It lay sticking up at an angle, like a rock to my probing
fingers.  I looked around.
	`I would like to see it,' I said.  `Is there some place that we can
go?  Out there?'  I pointed to the dark bush outside the fence.
	`No, there it is dangerous - there are animals.' He paused,
thinking. `We can go to your room.'
	`Is it safe?' I asked, not fancying being caught in the act.
	`I am one of the guards', he said, `so it is safe.  What is your
room number?'
	`37', I said, `up there', pointing.
	He followed next to me to my room, not at all concerned about any
appearance that we were not going together.  I suppose we could have
explained that he was coming along to check on the security in my room, or
something.  But no-one saw us.
	Once inside we grabbed at each other and pressed our hard cocks
together through the clothes.  I took his cap off, and started to undo his
shirt.
	`No - now I have not much time.  Later we will do it better.'
	He guided my hand to help him get his cock out of his uniform.  It
was strong and black and big - bigger than Themba's, and he was very
excited.  I stroked it a few times, before taking the length of it in my
eager mouth.  He pushed it into my lips hastily as though he had to do it
quickly, quickly.  I undid my belt and zip as well as I could while he
jabbed his hot young black cock into my face. I managed to pull my pants
and everything down onto my thighs and get my arse bare.
	I pulled him over onto me so that as he lost his balance and fell
forward he fell on top of me and I was on my back.  At the same time I
lifted my legs, so that suddenly he found his throbbing dick pointing at my
exposed and naked arsehole.
	I grabbed a condom from the side table and slid it onto his hard
fucktool, and rubbed a finger full of grease over it.
	He looked down and grabbed his hot pole.
	He put the stiff head against my hole, found the entrance and
shoved it in me.
	He fucked like a man possessed, no style, no finesse, just kept
shoving it in me until he came.
	Then he quickly withdrew and pulled his guards uniform on again
 he'd never really taken it off.
	`I will come back later', he said, `now the other guards are
looking for me'.
	`I will leave the door open', I said. `What time will you come?'
	`After midnight', he said, `then it is very quiet and we will have
more time.'
	It turned out that Themba was still occupied with his band friends
who'd decided to make a drinking night of it on the boat.  So I settled for
a second hectic bout with Jabulani  if indeed he was going to `come
back later'.
	I don't think I slept at all, half awake for the door to be pushed
open and a horny Zimbabwe security guard in full uniform to ravage my horny
hole again.  When he did come, I had dozed off, and woke to a soft knock.
It was two o'clock.
	The black uniformed figure was silhouetted for a moment against the
open door.  Then he came and closed it softly behind him.  This time we
undressed each other slowly, he doing the same for me as I for him. I got
all his clothes off, including the heavy work boots.
	His naked black body was slim and strong, with the litheness of
youth.  His black dick stuck out strong and hard and ready.  I nibbled his
nipples.  He groaned softly.  He did the same for me  it seemed he was
learning as we went along.  He put our stiff cocks together and rubbed them
both, one against the other. His body was teenager soft in places, the
muscles still to develop definition.
	I asked how old he was  he said nineteen.
	I stood him against the wall and rubbed his body all round and all
over.  When I started work on his arse crack he let me for a moment, and
then stopped me.
	He turned me round and rubbed me from the back, leaning his heavy
stiff dick against my bunched arse and moving it sensuously up and down
against the crack.
	I bent over on a stool in front of the mirror.
	He took the condom pack from the desk top and rolled one on. As I
watched his reflection he stood and found my quivering hot hole. He put the
head of his raging dick against it.
	Gently this time he pushed the big head into position and slowly,
slowly worked it up into my chute.  I pushed out to help it in.  It felt
bigger this time.
	Every so often he stopped and let me adjust to the feel of his rod
filling more and more of my pleasure channel.  This was a champion fucker.
So different from the quick time we had before.  His black hands came round
my chest, sometime onto my shoulders, as he pulled me back relentlessly on
to his iron black fuckpole.
	At last there was no more left  it was all inside my tight
hole. My hole was tight around his strong dick.
	`That is good now' he said softly, leaning forward towards my ear.
`Now I will do it to you again.  Like I do it to my brother'.
	He started a long slow rhythm which took his long dick almost out
of my arse and then deep in again.  At first some of the deep strokes hurt
my insides, but after a bit it got OK again.  I panicked when he pulled it
almost out, thinking it would slip out, and tightening my arse hole
muscles.  So when he teased me on the edge, by the time he thrust it
steadily back in again he was pushing against a tight ring of muscle, not a
relaxed one.  The way he did it, I was tight each time he fucked in  he
was having a great time.  My muscle was clamped like a vice round his
strong hot thick hard black tool.
	Gradually he picked up the pace, and the pounding got slowly faster
and faster. He was thoroughly master of my hole, gripping my shoulders as
he plunged his manhood into me.
	It was all I could do to take everything he gave me, panting and
groaning as I enjoyed the willing rape of my butthole.  Suddenly he grabbed
my stiff cock and started to jerk me off.  I couldn't stop him.
	His climax was a long high gasp and a dozen of the deepest
strongest thrusts, which I could only survive because I knew they were for
him the peak of pleasure.
	His hand on my cock brought me spurting all over the desk, my white
spunk on his strong black hand and over my thighs.
	His cock softened very slowly and he kept it up me as long as he
could.

	I helped him dress into his uniform again, taking pleasure in the
heavy boots, the cap, the other macho symbols of authority. But he was only
a boy.  A strong young big-dicked black boy who liked to fuck arsehole.
	We swapped addresses.  He made me promise that I would write next
time I was going to visit.  And indeed I got a card from him some weeks
later, referring to our good time in `Room 37'.
	I am due for another visit in about two months' time.  I'd better
get in some practice getting fucked by a champion.  Perhaps I can persuade
him to bring his brother along.
	Zimbabwe men are doing fine, I am pleased to report, and living and
fucking well in Zimbabwe.

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For American and UK readers, please note, in Southern Africa we all use the
word 'black' very easily - it's the normal and commonly used name.

There may be later firsthand stories from Zambia, from Zaire, a second
encounter in Zimbabwe, one from Maputo in Mozambique....

....firsthand from southern africa....   1998
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