This is a story, there will be sexual activity between a man and a teenage boy occurring in the context of a story about living in a fictitious African country. Sexual activity may not occur in every chapter. It is of course fictional, homosexual activities being illegal in most African countries and the age of consent usually being 18 years, not 16 as in my own country. I did work in Africa, I did see a boy on whom Sammy's character is based, but the activities in the story are purely a product of my fertile imagination – I have enjoyed this fantasy for some time, and making time and both hands available to write it down has not been easy. You might find some of the language I use a little quaint, but English is spoken slightly differently in Anglophone Africa and I have tended to replicate the way it is spoken there, unless it would cause confusion (or yet another explanation). Apart from that I'm English, innit! So friends from across the pond or down-under will think I'm quaint anyway!
The usual restrictions apply – if it is illegal or offensive to read this, don't. This is my first time to post a story, so comments welcome, flames will be ignored. Years ago I wrote a whole load of stories about African boys and saved them on a floppy disk which became corrupted (haha), but with some encouragement I might try to resurrect one or two of them. So feedback welcome to firstname.lastname@example.org (it's a zero in the middle).
M/B oral mast frott.
I am the author, you are not permitted to publish this elsewhere without asking me, though you may quote a sentence or two if you give credit and link.
Cheers, "Wet Blanket"
From Chapter Two:
Sammy and I held each other in a loose but warm embrace for some time while his breathing calmed down. I nuzzled his neck, planting kisses. I could sense that he did not want to look at me just yet.
"Did you ever do anything like that with any man or boy before?" I asked. Sammy shook his head. "Did you see it on the films?" He nodded. "Woman doing it to a man, or homosex?"
"Both" he whispered.
"What did you like in those films?"
"The man sucking the penis"
"Cool" I said
Sammy now seemed very relaxed and cool with what we had done. I knew we must do some more work, and soon get some lunch. I wondered if there was a way I could get to sleep with Sammy that night, or soon, he is so nice, and it was so good to sit there entwined and relaxed.
"You are beautiful"said Sammy with a broad grin and we kissed on the lips.
(that's just to remind you I was helping Sammy practise his French; mmm French lessons? Yummy!)
"Let's get dressed and do some work, Sweetie" I told Sammy.
"Okay" So we carried on in the garage sorting and boxing things for a while till it was time to get lunch. Maize meal (ebosho/egali) or etooke (a kind of plantain) is the commonest staple food in that part of the world, usually eaten with boiled kidney beans with fried onions and tomatoes mixed in with plenty of cooking oil and maybe a little curry powder, or in the rainy season fresh greens, usually growing wild - they spring up in 24 hours after rain. I often eat the beans, but more often with rice – which the locals may only eat on special days. My live-in house-help Loradi, who was off visiting his sick Mum, had cooked plenty the day before and there was enough left over for Okizo (Sammy – a person's names are used interchangeably) and me. We added some wild mushrooms and a bit of chilli powder to the beans because he said he likes it hot, like me.
Preparing food in a kitchen with someone you are fond of is a nice opportunity for touching – hugging from behind, etc.
(I remember in that very same kitchen some years before, a young man who was becoming my boyfriend kissing me on the back of the neck one morning – just as my then wife walked in; oops – I got into trouble big time: it was not the beginning of the end – the end was inevitable from the beginning; I was a morally upright man who had to get married in order to come to terms with being gay ... but that, as they say, is another story ... don't hold your breath.)
Also, sitting at table is a wonderful opportunity for communication when we are ready for it.
"You are at boarding school isn't it?"
Boarding schools are common in Zambula, for everybody who can scrape some money together – the local day secondary school may be poorly equipped and run, and the boarding schools in the bigger towns are usually of a better quality. They are mostly single sex and can provide opportunity for interested boys to explore their own and others' bodies, though it is rarely talked about unless some daft teacher decides to expose it. Then it can get in the newspapers and all the gay bashing comes out with calls for enforcement of the law, condemnation of 'foreign' practices, etc. 'Gay' probably is a foreign concept, but homosexual practices being un-African and imported by the colonisers? Pull the other leg, pleeease.
"Yes, I have been in boarding since Senior One."
"Did you ever touch dicks with another boy?"
"Once when bathing" (that's what they call squatting down and scooping up water in their hands from a plastic basin to throw over themselves before soaping, then rinsing off in the same manner) "I was with a boy and his dick came up, even mine, but we did not touch; and he was big! Later in the dormitory when we were preparing for bed he came to me and stroked my dick through my underpants; I liked it but I know people say it is bad so I feared and turned away. Some boys were caught doing homosex and I feared he might want to do that."
'Homosex' in Zambula is when people 'fuck the anus' or 'fuck themselves', that is – each other. Those who do this are regarded as serious criminals, and those who commit 'lesser' acts of perversion are regarded as lesser criminals. Personally, I love all the 'lesser' stuff, I think it is sometimes 'greater'! People there often use the 'proper' words for sexual things, interchangeably with our Anglo-Saxon 'four letter words'.
"So when you masturbate, what do you think about?" or should I have said "who"?
"I don't think anything, I just do it. And I mostly do it at school because at home we are too many sleeping in the same room, but sometimes I think I hear my brothers doing it." It is so nice to hear him talk, already he trusts me – what an awesome responsibility.
"But you have been interested in boys rather than girls?" (Objection, your honour, counsel is leading the witness).
"I wanted to touch them like I saw on the films, but I don't want fucking the anus." A common cry, but there are also those who want nothing else; tolerance for all, if you please!
"I think you liked what we did?" I hoped that was an understatement.
"Yes! the time we met I saw you look at me in a different way, as if you love me; I wanted to know you more"
"Me too! It is good we need to practise the French because it may allow us to have more time together." Did I dare bring up the idea of Sammy sleeping here? "I would love to be with you at night, but I don't know if your parents can allow it"
"You want us to sleep together?" Sammy wondered.
"Yes! If you want, in the same bed."
"I think I would like it ... um ... maybe it is possible, but you need to ask them, they will not allow if I ask".
"Ok, let's ask them when you go home, but I think for tomorrow night. This evening I will go out to the bar with my friends, and tomorrow I have to talk to the Revenue Authority and do other things in town, but in the evening I will be free, for you."
"Thank you Mr. Paul".
"Mm, you too, sweetie"
We spent another couple of hours in the garage and finished with a long hug and some gentle kissing before we washed up bit and I escorted Sammy next door.
"Mr Kariam, welcome back from the village"
Mr Paul, how are you?"
"I am fine thank you. How are you? And the parents and relatives?"
"They are all okay, only there is little rain."
"Oh, sorry to hear that" I said. (I won't bore you further, dear reader, with the more accurate long version of the greetings, half of which were in Sezambula language).
"And has my boy been good?"
"Yes he is a hard worker. Thank you for allowing him to help me" (yes it was Mrs Kariam who gave permission but I needed to boost his feel-good factor).
"You are welcome, but I think he is not so strong, sir" (old colonial ways of thinking and speaking die hard).
"He is able to do what I ask, it is not heavy work."
"Oh, that is good"
"You know we have been trying to practise French, but we are working and mostly we forget. Tomorrow I am busy in daytime, but if Okizo would like to come in the evening, we can chat in French. Then if it becomes late he can sleep there, we have plenty of space and I know you do not sleep late when there is no power." (Electrical power outtages were frequent and expected).
"We-ell, it can be ok, but send him back by 10 pm if you have finished with him there"
"Okay, I'll do that, so if he is not back by 10 pm you will know he is with me"
"Wasante, Owana Kariam"
"Wasante o-we" ("Thank you too").
"Have a good evening"
"Bonsoir, Okizo, merci pour la travaille, á bientôt."
"Bonsoir, merci beaucoup."
Thinks: I will have to come up some gift I can give to them without it looking like a payment – traditionally labour is given freely and that is often still the way of thinking between neighbours and friends, even in the suburbs.
So, off to have some beers and do some teen and twenties boy watching this evening. Maybe I will eat out at one of the Indian restaurants. Some of the waiters are gorgeous and not averse to some mild flirtation. Sometimes my gay Japanese friend and I eat out together and he reckons most of them are not aware of the flirting, they think I'm just a crazy white guy (which one of us isn't?), but I think not a few of them know perfectly well what I'm up to, and a few of them like it. Too bad they get off work so late. I once managed to meet one on his day off, but it was a case of "If you pay for me to go to university then you can have my dick". Well, helping out with educational fees for someone you already know is one thing, but to commit yourself in advance? Never. "And your anus" I told him. Can't blame him for trying, given the endemic poverty.
In the end I chatted up the barman, been trying to get to meet him for a couple of weeks now, but it seems he's realised what I'm up to and is not interested. Disagreed with the taxi driver going home, always too expensive in the evenings (miserly white man).
Wonder when Loradi is coming back, he's used to me coming in half drunk and wanting a cuddle. O unfaithful one. Probably he won't be back until at least tomorrow, good thing he is not the jealous type. In fact he prefers guys his own age. Sammy won't be ready for a threesome, and neither will I, not tomorrow, and maybe never. There is plenty to explore with Sammy alone. Loradi can listen from the next bedroom and jerk off alone. Cruel ain't I? On the other hand he sometimes brings a friend and I'm alone.
Half drunk, cant stay awake, feeling sexy, wish I could get my mobile to vibrate for five minutes without stopping, but .... nite.