Indigestion, caused by a second helping of my friend's delightful lasagne last night, caused a lack of sleep in the second half of the night, and with it the unexpected benefit of the words for a recently much-enjoyed fantasy, sparked by a beautiful African adolescent boy I met sometime. If there are things in the story that puzzle you, check out the introduction to Adam-from-Zimbali in Gay:Adult/Youth. Yes, that and Okizo are STILL unfinished works. Comments welcome, flames ignored. Peace. firstname.lastname@example.org
No persons or things were hurt, injured or damaged in the making of this story. It's about a sexual relationship between a man and a teenage boy, if it is illegal for you to read it at your age or in the country where you are, or you are offended by such, please don't read it. If you don't like stories in the first person, I do! If you think it is unbelievable, well, it IS a fantasy!
Sent by a small international NGO to assess the success of re-settlement programmes after a war, I had stayed the previous two nights in a hotel in the main regional town. Going into the villages I had done my work while noticing the beautiful young males. Untouchable, unprofessional, no place to make contact, not in this hotel.
Now this smaller town, a few hours journey along the new tarmac road; I had been recommended a visit to a certain lady, well known for her ability to galvanise the community into self-help. I had called her, she knew of my organisation, happy to give an informal interview "and don't even think of staying in that dreadful hotel, I have a guest room with it's own bathroom, you must stay with us". Well thank you ma'am, I've had my fill of dreadful hotels in small towns with their pseudo-European food. Perhaps I would get some local cuisine, always interesting, if occasionally producing the unexpected. I remember when ... no, that is another story.
My driver found the place and, having ascertained he was no longer needed, informed me he would be staying with a relative, and off he went. It was a typical bungalow house from the colonial period, had seen better days, but was clean. Probably three bedrooms.
Mrs Sentua showed me my room at the far end of the house. Obviously designed to keep visitors comfortable in their privacy: the door from the main corridor led to another mini-corridor with two doors, one of which led to the bedroom, medium sized room with a small-sized double bed already made up with a tied-up mosquito net hanging above. She indicated other door.
"The bathroom and toilet are there. I hope you will be comfortable enough. As soon as you are finished here, come through for lunch."
"Thank you every much".
I washed up and went back to the living room where Mrs S provided a light lunch, European-style with fresh white bread with a locally-produced peanut butter, a little cheese (which I knew was a luxury), followed by local fresh fruits and coffee.
"You can taste our local dishes in the evening – they take the who-ole day to prepare."
"I look forward to that".
My note-pad ever-ready, lunch drifted into stories of the war, reconciliation and re-building. Sure enough she was a fount of information and offered to take me to a local craft workshop in the morning before I left.
The afternoon drifted on, tea served at 5pm and, soon after, children of different ages began drifting in from school, all girls. I must have looked slightly surprised – she was not young, after all and, I presumed, a widow.
"You know these wars produce many casualties. I have my grandchildren here, educating in the town while the parents that remain are trying to get their homes and farms up and running after those years when people could not dig the land for fear of the rebels. Then they always have needy friends. So somehow, I have a houseful. The bigger boys are helping their parents, they walk or bike to school and back to the village in the evening, the girls I keep here, some primary-level boys stay with my sister. But I have one boy (smiles), his parents were killed and he was always my favourite, so he stays here with me. Around the house he does as much work as the girls, he can cook and clean, even mend clothes."
"He doesn't mind being the only boy?" I ask.
"Maybe, I'm not sure, but he loves me so much, and his friends visit from time to time."
"I look forward to meeting him", guessing he must be a teenager.
As we took several cups of sweet spiced tea in succession (I was not given an option), I also received a succession of pretty and not-so-pretty girls who came and curtsied as they shook my hand.
"Perhaps you would like to take a shower," Mrs Sentua offered. 6 pm, always a good time to take a shower in the tropics, just before sundown. I had a feeling I might not get the potable sundowner I liked.
"Or more tea?".
"Thanks Ma'am, I'll take my shower now". But no sign of the boy, ah well.
"There is a towel in the bathroom."
"Thank you very much".
I luxuriated in the lukewarm water, washing off the dust and sweat of the day, making sure everywhere was thoroughly washed. Slacks and a V-neck polo shirt would be sufficient for the evening I decided.
Coming back into the darkening living room, I was offered a chair on the verandah, "you can watch the sunset". Yeah, why not, I've seen plenty, but I don't tire of African sunsets.
"Good evening, Sir." A vision? No, a beautiful adolescent boy, medium height, immaculately turned out in grey slacks and light blue short sleeved shirt, with hardly a speck of dust. (Not for the first time I wondered, how do they manage that?). I grasped the strong hand, taking in the modest-but-evident arm muscles as my gaze moved to back to the face. I guessed he would be tall in a few years.
"I am called Kula, you are welcome to our house."
"Thank you Kula, I am called Steven."
"Thank you sir"
"No need to call me sir."
"Thank you, uncle." I can live with that I decided, once again appraising the handsome Nilotic face. Dare I hope for a closer contact? I wonder where he sleeps, no I am a guest, I should behave, and he probably sleeps in an outhouse, well away from the girls. Not that I can see an outhouse ...
So you can guess the conclusion? I can sign off here after my lesson in African good manners? No? Well, ok.
Dusk is so short in the tropics and it was well dark when a dim light came on above my head and one of the girls materialised in front of me, informing me that I should come in to eat. I entered to find the large dining table laden with different different covered dishes, and my palate longing for the coming revelation. That one too.
"Please take a seat". I did, and so did Mrs S, Kula, and four of the bigger girls. And Kula. The smaller girls were arranged on the sitting room chairs and on mats on the floor. Grace was said, and covers were removed: plantain, sticky millet "bread", rice; a dish of fowl in a thin sauce (probably free-range chicken from Mrs Sentua' garden I decided), some fried meat chunks, and the ubiquitous kidney beans fried with onions and tomatoes. There was also a small dish of fried termites. Haha, anyone want to leave here?
"Please help yourself." I took a little of everything, everyone making sure everything I needed was near to hand. The only eyes that met mine were Mrs Sentua's and Kula's, and his were sparkling. He was sitting opposite me and handed me the termites.
"Do you eat these Uncle?" It had been known, they are vaguely reminiscent of crunchy peanut butter if you don't look.
"Yes I do, thank you." That produced a smile with gleaming white teeth revealed behind the perfectly shaped dark, full lips. I could not help thinking about where I would wish those lips to be later, if only it could be possible. Some boys just seem to ask for attention.
It's the plantain that takes the whole day, first boiled and beaten into a mash, then, after being steamed in its own leaves for some hours, a uniform soft-but-firm consistency is achieved. Tastes vary, but it is often quite pleasant to eat with a good sauce. The smaller girls walked out to the kitchen and came back with their plates full of the same things we had at the table.
All was delightful, the girls, perhaps shy, left the conversation with me to Mrs S and Kula. We talked about the food (me making appreciative noises), about the country, the recovery from the war, about the villages. I did not want to remind Kula about his parents by asking him about his village, so I began to ask him about school and what he was learning. As I did so, I shifted my feet towards his. The children and teenagers had bare feet, while Mrs Sentua and I were wearing the customary flip flops (thongs). I slipped mine off as I gently sought the young man's feet, trying to appear just to be casually adjusting my feet. Bingo! I tried not to look as excited as I felt as I made light contact. In my culture I would probably mumble or glance an apology and move the foot away. But the Africans I have met do not shun physical contact between those of the same sex, so I did not move my foot away. There was a brief glance from Kula and that was all. For the rest of the meal we had that contact, occasionally shifting, but always ending up touching. For all I knew, that was the only touching I would get.
After dinner was over, and appropriate noises made we left the table and the smaller girls vacated and smoothed the sitting room chairs for me and Mrs S, whom they all addressed as either "Auntie" or "Mama Jonnie". Apparently her first born child was called by that name and, according to the culture, that was how she was formally addressed thereafter, although calling her Mrs Sentua was fine for visitors. By now it was 9.30 pm and Mrs S turned on her somewhat old and battered TV to get the national news. After 10 minutes I was thoroughly bored and, having no hope of any other entertainment, made my excuses saying I would like to sleep. Mrs S stood up to escort me to my room and as we walked down the corridor she called:
"Come and collect your mat from Mr Steven's room so you don't disturb him later." Oh but Ma'am, I would love to be disturbed. To me: "He sleeps there when we have no visitors, but he can sleep on his mat in the kitchen".
"Well .." The boy was now behind us and we had reached the door of the room, so I knew it was strike now in haste or regret later at leisure. "I'm sure he would be more comfortable in his usual room, there is enough space, isn't there? It would be no trouble to me at all and maybe in the morning he might have some stories from home to tell me." I glanced at Kula, whose eyes were indecipherable in the dimly lit corridor, but there was a definite smile on his face.
"Oh, I don't think ... I mean we always think you whites like to have your privacy and he is just a boy." Meaning he is not my age-mate.
"Oh I like some company, if he is not shy ..."
"Well ... Kula, I know sleeping in the kitchen with the pots and pans ..."
"Auntie, I don't mind." Mind what? The kitchen or me? "If Uncle Steven is happy for me to sleep here, I think it is ok". More than OK sweetie. By now we were all in my bedroom.
"Well ..." (to me) "if you are sure you don't mind, he doesn't have a man here to talk to and maybe you can have things to talk about."
"Yes it's good, a young man needs an older man sometimes." And how ... "I think you don't need to collect you mat, Kula, you can sort it out when you come to sleep".
"Thank you Uncle, I will come soon." I hope so, baby, I sure hope so.
"Very well, I wish you a good night" said Mrs S with a brief smile. They went out and closed the door behind them.
Wow, sometimes I manage to think quickly and, to be honest, just having Kula's company would be nice, though frustrating if he did not allow more. I was sure that they both still expected him to sleep on the mat alongside the bed, but I would have to see how I could change that when he arrived. I used the bathroom. I was already feeling a little aroused as I undressed to my boxers, got my own large towel out of my suitcase and laid it in the middle of the bed, untied the mosquito net and tucked it in. I switched on the small light by the bed which looked rather like an old office desk-lamp, the low-wattage bulb almost entirely covered by the metal shade, so I directed it away from the bed onto the wall; when I switched off the main light there was gentle subdued light which I thought was just right. Romantic huh? I got in the bed and, having observed before the fascination of male African youths with even moderately endowed hairy chests such as mine, I covered myself with the sheet up to my belly. I picked up from the bedside table the novel I had begun whilst bored in the hotel room the previous night. I tried to concentrate.
Not many minutes had passed before I heard the door between the corridors open and close, then the bathroom door. I hoped and presumed it was Kula, not one of the big girls with funny ideas – such things have been known, but that is not my story! I heard the toilet flush and the water from the tap then, sure enough, there was a gentle tap on the bedroom door and there was my boy – I hoped he would be my boy very soon. He was dressed in tee shirt and shorts and appeared to be freshly clean. I guess he had just showered somewhere, probably in an outside bathing shelter, scooping the water up with his hands.
"Good evening, Uncle."
"Good evening Kula. You are welcome."
"Thank you." He squatted down to get his mat from under the bed.
"Uh, I don't think you need the mat, the bed is big enough of both of us."
His expression was uncertain. "You want me to sleep with you there?"
"Yes please, if you are not too shy, but I don't allow clothes in my bed (because of the dust of course) ― only underpants, I mean." Through the net, he appeared to be looking at my chest.
"Er, maybe I am shy, but thank you uncle ..."
Just call me lover. "So get yourself ready and I am sure we will be comfortable." Making sure he was on my wavelength.
Kula turned his back as he removed his tee-shirt and shorts. His back and legs smooth, his buttocks and calf muscles high. I was happy to see he had only Y-fronts underneath the shorts, not the decidedly un-sexy athletics shorts that so many young Africans wear as well.
"In you get then." He untucked the net, looking across at me as he entered, putting his legs under the sheet; I was lying half on my side, towards him.
"Shall I switch off the light, uncle?"
"Maybe you first want to look more closely where you already looked? I don't mind if you want to stroke the hairs on my chest. And I want to see you properly too." There's nothing like cutting to the quick.
Uncle ... I ..." I stretched out my nearer arm above the pillow
where his head now lay, leaning across and taking hold of his hand
and bringing it to my chest; there was not much resistance. "There,"
I said, "stroke them for me."
"Uncle, they are so smooth."
I moved my arm and tucked it under his head so my hand was on his shoulder, applying a gentle pull towards me and Kula shifted his body closer, still stroking me. "I like your smooth chest, can I stroke it for you?" I asked.
"If you want Uncle".
I did so and I took care to find his nipples and rub them, eventually turning my hand and grazing them with my finger nails. He tensed briefly and looked at my eyes.
it feel good?"
"You can do like that to me too. Yes, like that, it's nice, yes, thank you. You have beautiful eyes Kula."
"Do I, Uncle? Uncle I have never felt like this before. I mean ..."
I pulled him towards me and we moved into an embrace.
"A man and a boy can have a special love, and that is what you are feeling." We held each other tightly and I moved my lower half closer to his, kissing his forehead. "Are you feeling nice?"
"Yes, very nice, oh ... Uncle." We hugged tighter and I pushed against him, hoping he would not be scared when he felt my erection. "I did not know you could ... we could ..."
I shifted my head and brushed his full lips with mine.
"Kiss me, Kula," He opened his lips a little and brushed mine, I pushed and kissed. He broke away. "Open your mouth a little more." We met again, this time I pushed my tongue in his mouth and found his, we jostled, our whole bodies now pushing.
"Uncle I have never done that!"
"I hope you like it." I moved towards him again and his mouth welcomed me.
"But my ... I ..."
"I think your body likes me as much as mine likes you. Can I move my hand like this?" putting my had between us and lightly grazing the front of his Y-fronts, his arousal was unmistakeable.
"Oh Uncle, is it ... it feels nice but ..."
"No 'buts' my boy, it feels good loving each other doesn't it?" Hugging tighter again and planting a kiss on his (face)cheek.
"Yes, it does."
"So enjoy it and don't fear. See, put your hand here, I am the same as you."
"Uncle, I touched another boy there once and he touched me, but otherwise I only touch myself."
"When you masturbate."
"Yes, is it good?"
"Does it feel good?"
but being here with you makes me want it more."
"So it is good. I think we should remove our underpants so we can release our hard things."
Kula looked at me slightly nervously then reached down and pulled his legs up to remove his Y-fronts. I did the same with my boxers. We hurriedly embraced again, moving close and intertwining our legs, our cocks now pushing against each other's stomachs. We kissed and clutched and groaned as our desire increased, thrusting against each other. I kissed around his face, his ears his eyes, down to his neck, around his nipples, kissing them too, licking them, teasing them, taking one gently between my teeth.
He groaned. "Uncle ... I didn't know that could be ..."
"Shhh! Just enjoy it." I was sure he did not know what was still to come. As I kissed his nipples I felt down with my hand and gently took hold of his cock. It felt average sized, maybe a bit long and a bit thin, uncircumcised, but definitely that of a boy come into maturity. I stroked a little. More groaning.
"Shhh, don't make too much noise, dear."
I let go and moved on down, kissing and licking. Kula's pubes were smooth, newly shaved, as is their custom. Lovely. I nuzzled his cock. His balls too were smooth, and average sized. I was now folding my legs to stay in the bed, I pushed his legs up so he lay on his back as I lay on my stomach, supporting myself on my arms. I licked around his pubes, down to his balls, reached up and took hold of his very firm cock. I sucked on his balls on by one.
He moaned again. I adjusted my position so I could be over him and lowered my head towards his beautiful black cock - uniform in width, the glans being slightly prominent and his foreskin naturally retracted. Good boy, you washed properly everywhere too! I licked around his glans and he shuddered.
"Uncle ... I ... you shouldn't ..."
"Does it feel good?"
... but ..."
"Then hush, sweet boy, enjoy it, I want to give you a wonderful experience." Once again I licked around his glans then lowered my head until that glorious African-boy-cock touched the roof of my mouth. I drew my lips against my teeth and closed my mouth, starting to move up and down, licking as much as I was able. I balanced on one elbow so I could tease his smooth balls with the fingers of the other hand. He was moaning again. Faster I went, I think neither of us wanted this to last much longer, it was now an urgent matter. I felt his balls become tight.
"Uncle my sperms ..." he tried to move away, I pressed him down.
I stopped the up and down movements and concentrated my tongue around his glans. His whole body tensed, he arched his back, bringing his cock further into my mouth as a he shot, 1 2 3 4 5 shots in rapid succession, his sweet boy-sperm filling my mouth as he relaxed into occasional after-spasms and I swallowed most of it. I pulled him onto his side and hoisted myself up so we could hug and kiss, he opened his mouth and our tongues jostled and he tasted his own sperms.
"Uncle, that was so ... you ... you swallowed my ... ?"
I did, it is good, sweet boy and sweet sperms"
"I have never tasted but, it is ok I think."
"Yes. Now can you do the same for me my sweet boy?"
"I have never ... but it felt so wonderful ... even when I masturbate it is not like that. But is it ... ?"
"I bathed just as you did, sweetie."
"Yes of course."
"Just do like I did, lick around the head and make it go in and out." I showed him how to cover his teeth and we each took the other's previous position. I don't shave there which must have been a surprise for him, and I have hair on my balls, but he gallantly licked around them and up to my glans, soon bringing it back to full erection. "Yes sweetie, like that ... now lick all around ... yes, that is so nice, yes ... now with your lips, up and down, yes, oh sweet ..." fingering my own nipples, knees bent and legs spread, it did not take long before I was getting near. Holding his lovely head now. "Yes baby, so sweet .... now soon, lick hard around the head ... yes ... yes ... soon my sperms are cumming ... yes baby, yes, ooh sweet, oh yeeess" my body arched, forcing my dick up against the roof do his mouth as I shot my load 1 2 3 before he could move away. He spluttered a little but I saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, good boy!
boy, thank you so much, come, slide up here on top of me, yes, like
that, ooh, you did so well, thank you, oohh, you made me feel so
good." Tight hugs as we kiss slowly and I taste my own cum as I
still get after-spasms. "I love having you on top of me like
this. Did you enjoy it?"
"Uncle I have never known this love. I liked licking and sucking your ... your penis."
"And yours is already hard again."
Giggles, "yes!" He is now wriggling against me a little, the natural thrusting of new arousal.
know you want to bring your sperms again."
"Yes Uncle, will you put it in your mouth again?"
"Would you like to fuck my anus?"
"Fuck ... ? your anus ... ?"
"Yes, I would like you to enjoy that experience too."
"I have heard of boys doing that in boarding school, it seems it is bad, but you make me feel so good, is it also a kind of loving?"
it is, if boys or men or a man and a boy love each other then they
can do that if they both agree. Please do it for me, I know you will
"Uncle, if you want, then I want. How shall we be?"
"Let me get this oil from the table here ... now, I put this pillow under my buttocks. Yes, put the towel underneath properly. Put some oil on your penis and smear on my anus also, push your finger inside, yes all the way if you want, it is not dirty, oh yes ... that's right, can you put in two fingers? Yes, like that ... push, uh ... no, it's ok ... you can take them out. Now, come in between my legs and put your penis at the opening. Yes, now push gently, very slowly, let just the head enter, aahh, yes, now wait ... ok, now, slowly, push very slowly all the way in ... uunnhh ... yes, all the way? Good, now rest ... how do you feel?
I feel very ..."
"Yes! Uncle I love you."
"Sweet boy, I love you too. Now you can gently pull back until you are near to the opening, but don't let it come out, that's it, stop, ok now you can push back in slowly, and keep repeating in and out like that. Yes, it's good ... yeeess ... how does it feel?"
"ah ... ah ... Uncle, it is soo good!" he is gradually getting faster and I am feeling good as his sweet African-boy-cock thrusts against my hot-spot. I let him take his own speed, after his first cum there is a natural pace for him; I can't keep my legs like this for too long though ...
yourself up a little and kiss me, sweetie, I love this, mmmm, ok I
can feel you are getting bigger inside me."
"Uncle, soon, I think my ... sperms will come."
"I want to feel them cum inside me, sweet boy, I want you to fuck me hard so they cum."
"Oh .. Uncle, aah ... aah ... aah ... aah ... aah ... aah ... aah ... aah ... they are coming, oh .. oh .. ooohhhh, oh Uncle ..."
I feel him spurting his cum into me and he collapses on my chest as I still feel his cock twitching inside.
"Oh Uncle, thank you ... thank you ... I feel soooo gooooood."
"Me too, sweet boy, me too," though I had not cum.
you ... you need to bring your sperms too? Do you want ... to ...
"No, precious boy, I am just fine now, I just want you to kiss me some more and keep your penis inside me for as long as you can."
Eventually of course he must come out, switch off the light, and we fall asleep in a cuddle.
In the morning there is little time, school begins early. We hug, as we wake, I reassure Kula that what we have done is a good thing, no-one should say loving is bad. We exchange addresses. We have time for quick shower together, Kula is shy at first in the daylight, but we just get on with our showers, touching little, though we have erections. After drying we have a quick naked hug, our cocks hard against our stomachs, there is no time for more. Kula dresses, he will have breakfast at school he says, we hug again, kiss briefly, and off he goes, into his world.
A little later I dress and go to the living room where Mrs Sentua has a light breakfast ready for me – tea and bread. We then go to the craft workshop where I see many talented and good-looking young people and after that – I warmly thank Mrs Sentua thrusting a few banks notes into her hand "for the children", not allowing her to refuse, and the driver takes me to my next destination.
What happens there, and whether I ever meet Kula again, these are other stories.