Date: Thu, 10 Mar 2005 21:49:14 +0800 From: James MacMannis Subject: Aboriginal Farmboy / aboriginal_farmboy_14 Aboriginal Farmboy 14 Author: James MacMannis Subject: aboriginal-farmboy-14 (adult-youth, interracial, rural) Archive; 'Aboriginal Farmboy #14'{James MacMannis}(BB, interr, rural)[] Homosexual, young male sex Adult-youth Interracial Rural setting ABORIGINAL FARMBOY - PART FOURTEEN Copyright (c) 2005 by James MacMannis This document may be downloaded for your personal pleasure; however, you may not place the document on a website or reproduce the story for distribution in any media whatsoever without my permission. Please email me at james_macmannis@hotmail.com with constructive comments or criticism. You may also wish to join the Aboriginal Farmboy egroup at aboriginal_farmboy-subscribe@yahoogroups.com. My apologies to the many readers who have written to express concern at the delay in publishing this chapter. I have, as some of you will know, been caught up in the aftermath of the terrible destruction of the tsunami in Indonesia. This even radically affected work priorities and is still being sorted out as I write. I hope you will accept this apology with the understanding that my time has not always been mine to control. The next weeks were difficult for us all. I had contacted the principals of the Indonesian company about their offer by phone and email and was waiting for a response from them before I took further action. The boys were anxious about what could lead to a significant change in their lives and I was nervously trying to convince them this would not be the case. Between us we often succeeded in making the situation more complicated and tense than it needed to be. Connie appeared to be the least perturbed: going about his daily work in the professional manner I had come to admire in him. He did, of course, have Wayan to support him, although Wayan was now living in Perth and Connie only saw him on the weekends when he came home to the farm. Chris was at first distant to me, then quickly warmed to the prospect I faced of expanding the business in Indonesia. He did not relish the thought of me being away, nor did I wish to be away from him, but he was pragmatic about the fact that our separation would not be for too long. I became concerned about Nick. The boy was supposed to be arranging for his resumption of schooling, but he was the most visibly upset of the three. He would not concentrate on the simplest of tasks and could not get his act together to organise the books, clothes and other things he needed for school. He was not eating properly, did not seem to be caring for himself very much and, surprising to all of us, was totally neglecting his usual strict fitness and running program. He would not let me talk to him about whatever was bugging him, although it was most obviously connected to my impending departure. He chose to sleep alone at their house in Railway Road, coming home somewhat reluctantly, it appeared, when Chris bought him for meals. His usual bright and happy disposition was now hidden under a cloud of self-imposed misery and apathy. I had still not fully thought out why I was asking the question when I asked my staff in the Indonesian office to enquire about international schooling. It came to me quite suddenly a day or two later when their email reply was in my hand. You see, although my first love was for Chris, and always would be so, I could not live apart from Nick, the young boy who had come to mean so much to me and, apparently, I to him. The manager of my Indonesian operations had found a reputable international school in Surabaya, the city where my operations were based in Indonesia, and told me there was an opening available in the next semester for a part-correspondence student. It was when I found myself uncontrollably delighted in the news that I realised my underlying intention. My plan was to talk to the boys about this new opportunity that same day, but I had forgotten another extremely important event because of the turmoil of arrangements that had been going on. When Connie asked what time we would be leaving for Perth it came back to me in a rush that we were schedule to drive down to the city for his graduation ceremony that night. In a flurry of activity we somehow managed to get everything organised and, by late afternoon, were on the road to the university. Wayan was waiting for us at his college and we left the car in his carpark and walked the short distance to the campus. Winthrop Hall at the University of Western Australia is a grand structure, rising majestically beyond an immense reflecting pool. The building is constructed in huge limestone blocks and is erected in a Georgian style, adding a sense of permanence and stability to the Hall and, by extension, to the whole institution. The foyer rises on a marble staircase through two levels and entry to the hall is through double oaken doors at the rear. As you pass through the doorway the vastness of the Hall opens up before you. Massive jarrah timber beams span the entire width of the hall and the ceiling, 15 metres above the floor, is panelled in jarrah. Arched stone pillars support the roof structure with tall windows stretching from the gallery height to the ceiling. Behind the stage is a large circular stained glass window framed entirely by the huge pipes of an impressively large organ, ranks of horizontal trumpets protruding immediately below the window itself and the remainder of the organ arrayed below and on either side, high above the choir seating on the stage. The movable console had been positioned on the main stage to one side. A competent organist was playing some background music as we entered and were ushered to our seats, Chris and Nick being somewhat uncomfortable in their newly bought suits but, nonetheless, enduring the discomfort for the sake of their older brother and looking very smart as a result of their efforts. Wayan had gone off with Connie soon after we arrived: they had to meet with their own student groups for the final arrangements for the graduation ceremony. Wayan would be sitting with his faculty group during the proceedings. At the appropriate time the music stopped and a hush descended on the crowd. A member of the university staff came on to the stage to announce the entry of the Dean, professorial staff, honoured guests and other faculty members, so we stood as the processional was played magnificently on the organ. The Dean asked the family and friends gathered in the room to remain standing for the national anthem. The assembly resoundingly outsang the powerful organ as a thousand voices swelled to the stirring tune, then the proceedings began. Universities, of course, owe their heritage to a longer history of the church. Originally education came from the church, hence much of the pomp and circumstance of the traditional university ritual is reminiscent of that observed in some churches. The dean was well versed in the requirements of his position, and led the ceremony with great dignity and sense of occasion. At last the graduates were called one by one to the stage to receive their degrees and citations. I knew that Connie was to receive special mention, as the staff had told us when we met last year, but it still came as a surprise when at the end of the proceedings Connie still had not been called out with the other graduating students. I could see him standing, now alone, on the side of the stage, the rest of his fellows having taken seats of honour at the front of the Hall. The Dean began talking again, this time to announce the student who had completed his course of study and would be awarded the highest ranking ever awarded in the history of the university. It was with pleasure, the Dean told us, that he would be awarding the degree of Master of Agricultural Science with distinction. This was an unprecedented move by the university to recognise a level of achievement rarely seen anywhere in the world, and, the Dean explained, the first time such a level of attainment had been awarded in Australia. Not only was this unusually appended degree being awarded, but the University Prize, a cash amount derived from an old legacy well invested a hundred years before, would also be given to the recipient of this degree. He called out for Constantine Kouros MacMannis (I discovered from the university that Connie had listed me as his father and next of kin) to step forward and the Hall broke out in a wild display of affection as his fellow students, teachers, friends and family together applauded him to the dais. Connie looked marvellous in his academic gown, the satin sash of his faculty proudly displayed across his shoulder, the mitred cap rakishly placed on his head as he walked across to the Dean. All of the professorial and tutorial staff rose as one in honour of his remarkable achievement, continuing to clap and hail their prize student while the rest of the audience did likewise for one who had gained their respect and admiration. Eventually the cheering and clapping died down and Connie accepted the scroll passed to him, stood back and respectfully doffed his hat to the Dean as the protocol required. Applause broke out again as he walked from the stage and took his appointed seat. Tears of pride and joy were streaming down my face, and I did not care who saw them. Chris, on the one side of me, and Nick, on the other, were openly emotional as they witnessed the spectacle of their brother receiving the highest acclaim from his superiors and peers at the university. The rest of the proceeding was a blur to me, I held so strongly in my heart the sight of my boy being given such an accolade by his school. I did not notice the valedictory or the address, but eventually the organ played again and the honourable staff left the stage and it was done. We retrieved the car and found a comfortable coffee shop in a nearby cafe strip. The boys had kicked their shoes off before we had left the campus and left them in the car. They were now happily enjoying a strong coffee with their cigarettes, their feet stretched out and touching mine under the table. Our conversation centred on the ceremony and the remarkable proceedings we had been part of. When we had ordered our second coffees there was a lull in the conversation, so I thought it might be a good time to introduce my bit of news about the possibility of Nick coming to Indonesia with me. "If you want to take him with you, Dad, I think it would be the best thing for him." Connie said. "Chris and I can look after things on the farm, you don't need to be worried about that, but I don't think either of us could manage Nick as well. He is so totally devoted to you, Dad, and needs to be with you desperately. He has to have a father figure now more than ever before in his life. Are you sure he will not be in your way up there?" I thought before I answered him and turned the response into a question directed at Nick. "It will be difficult for you, Nick. You cant speak the language and do not understand the culture or the people. You won't have any friends up there to begin with. I can't be with you every moment of the day, even if you are living with me. But I certainly will do everything in my power to be there for you and provide for your every need. Would you like to come with me?" The words were still issuing from my mouth when I saw him begin to move. Perhaps it had taken a moment for the import of this development to sink in, but Nick now understood my intentions. He raced around the table from where he had been sitting and jumped into my lap, hugging me despite the interested looks of several people at neighbouring tables. I thought he had cried enough for one evening with the emotion of Connie's graduation, but fresh tears were streaming down his face, smearing my own as he rubbed himself into me. "Oh Dad," he whimpered, "thank you so much. I thought you were going to leave me and I was devastated every time I thought about it. You cant ever know what this means to me." "You are the greatest Dad in the world!" Chris said from where he sat next to me, surprisingly in awe of me despite my feeling of total inadequacy in this situation. "You have shown us boys what true love means and you amaze me how you demonstrate it to us every day. James, I never call you my Dad, because I love you more than it would be possible to love a father, but you still are my Dad in every way. I love you even more today than I did yesterday and I will love you more again tomorrow. The only thing I ask is that if you can possibly do it, please arrange for me to come up and see you soon, too. I promise you my love, and nobody will ever come between you and me. Until we are together, I will keep myself only for you." Chris had reached out to take my hand in his and was grasping me firmly as he made his assertion. I squeezed him back, choking on my own tears as strong emotions surged through my mind. Connie and Wayan came and stood together behind us, their hands finding purchase on my shoulder in a parody of blessing. Connie spoke for both, saying "We agree with Chris. You are a great Dad, and I am so proud to be a part of your family. I love you deeply, Dad, and Wayan shares my love for you. Thank you for caring enough to do this thing. Thank you for being there for me when it was hard to keep going these past years. Thank you for giving me, us, a home and a security." The emotion I had been trying to keep controlled throughout the evening, and, indeed, since this critical decision making began, now bubbled out of me. I could not resist the wonderful love Chris, Connie and Nick felt towards me, especially in the light of their earnest proclamations and the legal steps they had taken to secure a place in my family. All of us were overcome with private emotion, and together we hugged and cried as we shared this intimate time together. Wayan, almost an accessory to the event, was as much caught up in the emotion and the joy of it as we all were. "You know, James, I have never hugged my Dad for the things he has done for me. I want to hug you now so I can practice what it will be like when I see him next time. It might not be the done thing in our culture to show public emotions and affection, but some rules were meant to be broken. That is one I am going to break!" We did get ourselves under control and somehow returned to our seats to resume our coffee, but it had gone cold. A new round was ordered and I happened to catch Nick's eye at one point and was thrilled to see the sparkle back in it. He grinned at me, warming my heart yet again as I rejoiced in my son. Wayan came home with us, having no more lectures scheduled for the week, turning his regular two day weekend into a longer break. It was almost midnight when we drove into the shed to park the car and then walk over to the house. Summer had lost it's strength and the nights were beginning to be cool, so we were glad that we had kept our jackets on. Connie and Wayan took a spare room in the house rather than go down to their cottage, both of them too tired to be bothered opening up their house. Before they went to bed I took Connie's new degree and hung it in a central place on the wall in the lounge room so they could see it. Nick, somewhat sheepishly, came quietly up to me. "Dad, would you be forgiving enough to a stupid boy to let him come and sleep with you again?" I took his face in my hands and lifted it up so I could look him in the eye. "I am the one asking your forgiveness, not the other way around. It was because I didn't think through the problem that I caused an issue for you, so, Nick, please forgive me." We hugged each other as a token of our forgiveness and our revitalised love, then I led him to my bedroom. Chris had already settled into bed and was waiting for us. "I wondered when you two would get here," he said as he moved to one side of the bed. Nick and I quickly shed our clothing and crawled in beside Chris, the three of us snuggling close for both comfort and warmth. Nick turned out the bedside lamp and we soon were soundly sleeping, the long day having drained us of any energy for other activities. A cool, bright morning sky alerted me to the fact we had slept in. All of us were usually awake before dawn, but today was off to a slower start. I glanced at my bedroom clock and saw it was past seven o'clock and I could not remember the last time in my life I had slept so late. Another urgency had called me from my slumber, so I quickly made my way over Nick's still sleeping body to the toilet where I could relieve my bladder. The boys were still slumbering, although I suspected not really asleep. They were lying on their backs and two distinctive protrusions marked the bedcovers where their early morning needs were manifest. I snuggled back between them, glad to be out of the chilly air but even gladder to be wedged between the boys. Chris turned to face me, his rigid penis sticking into me as he did. I reached out for him and pulled him to me, finding his lips and giving him a long and sensuous kiss. He thrust against me a few times and worked his hand across my belly to find my erect penis. I turned to him and his hand enclosed both our hot tools as we pushed together in a gentle masturbation. Nick now joined in, rolling towards my back and reaching his arm across my shoulders, displaying his own urgency as his penis lodged itself in the cleft of my buttocks. I reached back and ruffled his hair with my hand and he snuggled in closer in response. We lay together for some time, enjoying this quiet time of the day in a way that could not be surpassed. Chris gently massaged our penises and Nick occasionally thrusting himself in the tight channel of my rump. I knew that we would eventually have to commence the day's work, although I could not hear any sounds of activity to indicate Connie and Wayan had risen. Nick whispered in my ear "You know, Dad, I haven't done anything since the last time we were together. So I really need to shoot my sperm out, it has built up a lot." He was shaking with excitement, now that his orgasm was near. I wanted to taste him, so I rolled over, breaking the grip with Chris, so I could get my head down to his raging tool. He was very hard and the throbbing of his penis was ferocious. Judging by the slippery coating of precum, he was in desperate need of release. I eased the head of his penis into my mouth, savouring that delicate taste of him as my tongue swabbed his foreskin. Nick was not able to endure foreplay, the time since his last ejaculation far too long ago to allow for niceties. He thrust deeply into me, his penis slithering down my tongue, until he was lodged in my throat. Strong bursts from his penis directed his sperm into me, jet after jet of his warm fluid pulsing out of him, his body quivering with the impact of his pent up liberation. Chris worked his way under me and took my penis in his mouth while I was still servicing his brother. As Nick thrust and shook in my mouth, so the vibrations of his movement translated to thrusting and movement in my own member. Chris swallowed all of me in time to take the impact of my ejaculation at the entrance to his throat. Nick was still lunging and his penis still shooting load after load of his creamy juice after I had finished my own strong but shorter eruption. I had begun counting his strong squirts and had lost count at fifteen when my own urgency climaxed. The stream of his loins eventually dried up and he pulled out of me. Chris, laying below me, was masturbating himself, so I quickly moved down and took him in my mouth, bringing him to his release in just a few thrusts, his sperm quickly chasing Nick's somewhere into my gullet. Totally sated, we lay together in an all-in embrace, enjoying the rosy glow as we stilled our breathing and our bodies gathered their strength for the coming day. The weeks were filled with activity. I had a significant workload sorting out the contracts and various documents that arrived daily in regard to the new business venture in Indonesia. My lawyers made a fortune assisting me with the legalities of the arrangements and my telephone accounts were phenomenal with the number of international calls I was making. Eventually the critical preliminaries ground to a slower pace as different pieces of the complex preparations fell in to place. It appeared that I would be needing to move to Indonesia in mid-May, so I had my staff locate a house in Surabaya that I could rent to use as both an office and home. Work on the farm continued at its usual pace with Chris becoming increasingly busy as the weather cooled. His vegetables were in great demand at the city markets, and he was now travelling to Perth every Thursday to meet with dealers and customers at the busy Canning Vale market complex. Usually he left at about 3 am because the markets opened around 5 and he needed to be on hand at the very start of trading. I had let him handle all the freight arrangement for getting his produce to the distribution centre, offering at one stage to fund the purchase of a small truck if he thought it would be necessary. Instead he had negotiated a deal with a large trucking company that took regular refrigerated loads to inland shopping centres and, by meeting the trucks on their empty return trips to Perth, he had found a very economical and ample supply of transportation. Nick, now in his sixteenth year, was about to begin the fourth year of his high schooling. We decided that he should commence the school year at his local school, then we would transfer his schooling to the International School once we moved to Surabaya. He had grown into a fine looking lad, very much in the mould of his older brothers and instantly recognisable as the son of his handsome father. Strangely enough, he had adopted a lot of my mannerisms. Perhaps it is not so strange when you think that I had become his substitute father, but to me it always seemed weird and wonderful when I saw him doing or saying something that I would do or say. The way that he began a response to someone with a characteristic "Ehhh?", as if he had not heard the question right, was exactly what I did, even though I had heard correctly the first time (and so had Nick!). The way he crossed his legs when he sat and relaxed, the right foot resting in the crock of the left, was a copy of my own style. Even down to the way he held his occasional cigarette or the sceptical glance he gave when someone said something unexpected to him. I was fascinated and a little afraid every time I noticed these things, yet immensely proud of him in what he was as a fellow person and as my son. It had been more than four months since Nick had last worn shoes. His feet were as hardened as Chris's or Connie's from the constant exposure to the elements. I knew even when he went to school that he hardly wore shoes, but he was not looking forward to the discomfort of having to do it again. He was even more displeased when I told him that he would sometimes have to wear them in Indonesia. It was time for us to go shopping for new school clothes so that he would be neatly fitted out for the new year, which included a new pair of shoes to replace the ones he had outgrown from last year. There were a few clothing shops in town, but the best range of apparel was to be had in Perth. I took Nick with me on one of my many trips to the lawyer's office in the city to see what we could find in a large suburban shopping centre. The shops were crowded with kids looking for new clothing and parents trying to eke the budget out to pay for the purchases. Although the day was warmish outdoors the air conditioning kept the shopping centre at a cool low 20's temperature, making the tiled floors cold to walk on. We found what we needed as quickly as possible and, once I had completed my business and we had eaten lunch, we drove home. Chris and Connie wanted to know what they had to do for them to visit us in Indonesia, and, with assistance from the local Postmaster, I helped them all obtain passports so that travel would be a non-event. "I think we could arrange every two or three months to have a break and get together. There is so much about Indonesia you will find interesting. So many new and exciting things about their lifestyle and culture, I can hardly wait to show you some of it." We all sat around one evening and had an involved discussion on separation. Things like the boys moving away, or getting married, or whatever might cause us to become separated. It was a rather heavy discussion and at times I sensed a strong undercurrent of emotion behinds the things the boys were exploring. No doubt, much of their concern arose from having lost their father and not wanting to go through the same experience again. I responded by saying "I do understand your concerns, because that is what it is like in my heart every time I think about any of you going away from me. You know, my greatest fear is that now I have found you three and you have become my family I will loose you again. I know that one day you will each find a partner and go and live somewhere else - maybe no further away than another house on our property like Connie does now - and your heart will be given to that person. It might be another boy or you might find yourself a lovely wife. I will never stand in the way of that happening and will help you to achieve the life you want to live. But I will also grieve the day when it happens because it will mean that you are no longer mine. It is selfish, but it is natural. We all feel those kinds of thought for the people who mean the most to us. So I do really understand if you have thoughts that I am going to leave you. The difference is that I am only going away for a limited period of time and we will always be in contact throughout that time" "Yes, I know that, but you will have Nick with you to love," Chris interjected. "Even though I love my brothers, I only have you as my father and I love you more than is possible to love another person. I will never leave you for somebody else. I will always be with you, James, even if you are not here with me." Chris uttered this profound statement with all the sincerity of his heart. The wetness of emotion filled his eyes as he spoke. "Thank you, Chris. Please don't make promises to me about the future, because I don't want you to feel tied to me when it is time to unfurl your wings. Please let us enjoy the now and everything that is in it. Let tomorrow and the tomorrows to come take care of themselves when they arrive. Right now I have you and you have me, and my sincerest prayer is that this love we share will always be a real and precious thing between us, no matter what may come." We all sat quietly together, the darkness of the night accentuated by a sliver of moon showing above the distant trees to remind us that a bright full moon would mount the night skies in a week or so. The breeze coming through the sliding doors of the lounge room was cool and gentle. Chris moved himself so he was sitting very close to me and he held my hand. Some birds sang out a song that echoed down the valley, bouncing off the hills and rocks as it gradually dispersed among the elements of the very nature that bore it. The peacefulness was an ointment and it healed the tension of the past weeks, restoring us fully to each other, strengthening our love for each other so that we might be apart and together at the one time. Chris nuzzled his head into my chest. I breathed deeply in his hair. I loved that smell of him and could never get enough of it into my sensory chambers. Even though he filled a man's body, Chris's sweat was still sweet rather than the more acrid characteristic that would have been expected for someone of his age. There was the dust of the countryside there, and a trace of the shampoo we used, mixed with his sweet sweat and the lingering smell of tobacco. Oh, how I loved this boy. Oh, how my heart ached when I though of him not being beside me each day. I determined to absorb every scent, every sight, every sound of him so that when he was not there I could recall him from my memory. It would be easier for me, because Nick would be there with me, but I knew Chris was an enduring person and would manage our separation wisely. Connie put coffee on and, when he had made it, poured mugs for us. We relaxed with the hot drink and cigarettes. "Boys, one thing life has taught me is that you don't get a rewind button with it." I was feeling philosophical and needed to say something they would remember. "In other words, you can't go back and play parts of it again. So I want to ask you to do something. I want you to give yourself the chance to become all you can ever be. Give yourself the chance to be young and strong so that you grow old with grace and dignity. Give yourself the chance to learn and absorb all there is to take in around you to that you can add knowledge and wisdom to your portfolio. Give yourself the chance to love as you have been loved so that peace and contentment will always follow your steps." I probably should have followed that with something of a bottom line statement, but I had run out of steam. The room was quiet until Connie put down his mug and the clink of it meeting the table surface broke through the silence. He put his cigarette into an ashtray and came over to me. Squatting down in front of me, he reached out and put his hands on my knees. "Dad, you are something else! I never thought I could fill the void my father left in my heart, and I, by myself, can't. But you have. Thank you for all that you have done for me, for Chris and for Nick. Thank you for loving us and letting us love you in return. Thank you for letting us learn to love each other more. My constant prayer is that we can somehow live up to all you are teaching us to be, that somehow we can make you proud of us." He stood, leant towards me and enclosed me in his strong arms. "Thank you, Dad. I love you so much." Hot tears were dripping through the light cotton of my shirt. Connie, wracked with his private emotion, sobbed as I held him. When he quietened, I kissed him as a sign of paternal love. He felt my meaning, understanding that this was not a sensual act, and responded in the same way, sealing our love in the most simple, yet most sincere, symbol known to man. The four of us slept together that night. We paired automatically, Chris with me and Connie with Nick, no sign or word passing between us to make the arrangement, letting the natural course of events take control. I had never seen Connie and Nick involved in sexual intimacy previously, and from the various conversations I had with the boys over the past months I was fairly sure they had not been together before. While Chris and I were involved in our own expressions of love, I notice that Nick was taking Connie into his mouth. The sight of it heightened the various explorations Chris and I were involved in. I whispered to Chris so that he could watch his brothers, and, without thinking, our own thrusting matched the steady rhythm of the two beside us. Connie was intensely concentrating on his pending orgasm and had his eyes tightly clenched. His hips rose to meet Nick's suction and his body jerked in a massive response to the younger brother's ministration. Chris and I reached our climax immediately, spewing our own juices in strong spurts over each other's bodies. Nick had been humping Connie's legs and we saw him, too, reach the uncontrollable pinnacle of his culmination. Connie slowly opened his eyes in the semi-darkness and looked at Chris and I. His hand found mine and clenched it tightly. I saw again the release of tears and I had come to realise the deep current of emotions that continued to run through this young man. "Dad, thanks for letting me discover the love of my little brother. We have never done this before, the two of us, and I never knew what I was missing. You have brought some remarkable blessings to my life." Connie's voice trailed off as his throat thickened. Nick, now uncoupled from his brother, had moved up the older boy's body and was hugging him furiously. "Connie, don't be upset. I always loved you even when you never had time to spend with me. I am just glad I had this opportunity to show you my feelings in a special way." Chris flung his arm around the other two, his penis still hard and wedged between my legs, his lithe body atop mine. We fell into a peaceful and deep sleep, untangling ourselves many hours later as the sun came above the horizon to announce another day. The four of us were desperately hard and needing succour, the long sleep having revived our libido and the memory of the previous night stimulating even further our desire for each other. Nick found my penis and descended on it like a ravenous wolf. I took Connie while Chris took Nick. Connie arranged himself so he could take Chris. Together we teased swollen heads and licked precum before commencing our devouring assaults. Soon, each of us was buried deeply in the mouth of another, the sensations of the confined space and gentle suction mounting in our rampant tools. None of us were pushing, we just lay in a kind of circle, joined at the apex of our love for each other. Slowly movement began as need could no longer be denied. A ripple of prodding became a surge of urgency as we drove towards our release. Chris came first, strongly shoving into Connie; his brother reaching out to grasp his clenched buttocks and pull him deeper into his throat. Nick took my load next, not as sustained as Chris, but a wonderful release for me. My reflexes took Connie over the crest and he gave me a tremendous serving of his tasty sperm. Nick came almost at the same time, giving Chris his ejaculate in a series of quick, powerful jerks assisted by Chris, who had copied Connie's reaction and pulled his brother as far in to his mouth as he could. We lay together, engaged as we were in each other, to share every moment of this special intercourse between us. I felt as though in some miraculous way we had been able to each express our sex with all four at the one time simply through this remarkable coupling we had achieved. It was a most precious experience. In early April the olives were nearing their ripening. Connie and I carefully tended the trees, reducing the watering program so that the fruit would be fuller in natural oils. Each day, after school, Nick would do his own rounds of the grove, checking trees on a random sample basis to familiarise himself with the ripening process. I asked Chris if he could set aside a week in April to work with us on the harvest instead of at his garden. Our olives are all hand-picked. There are machines for harvesting an olive crop, but because we followed organic principles in using natural fertilisers and land management, it seemed prudent that we should care for the fruit to the very last minute it was in our guardianship. Hand picking is a labour intensive job, but it yields the highest value and least damage to the fruit. Wayan had some time off university in April, so he would also join us to help with the harvest. Even though autumn had bestowed cool weather to us and there had been enough early rain to freshen the countryside, olive harvesting is nonetheless an arduous, hot and dirty job. We did it, and it took us 10 days to complete because you cant pick all the olive off a single tree at the one time. They don't all ripen equally, so you pick what is ready then have to go back over successive days to get the rest. We brought in a great crop - some for table produce and some for oil. The oil olives we took to a press nestled among cool trees and spreading vineyards not too far from my farm in a famous grape-growing region of the state. We bought home with us a number of 40 litre containers of golden fine oil which would later be bottled and sold. Table olives were cleaned and put to soak in the first part of their 8 month transition from being a bitter, inedible fruit, to becoming gourmet delights. I had to leave all that with Connie and Chris. May had all too quickly come and it was time to fly up to Indonesia. Nick and I made our preparations and, on the last night we were at home I took the boys out to dinner at our favourite restaurant near the river. Once again we sat out on the decking, dressed now in warm jackets to keep the late autumn chill at bay, and sipped fine wines, enjoyed a splendid meal and relaxed with our coffees for the last time together. "Boys, I want you to know this has been the most remarkable ten months of my life. I never in my wildest dreams ever thought I could meet up with even one person as good as any of you, and to actually discover a family who would become my own family is just beyond imagination. I cannot accept this as coincidence. I truly believe that God had planned this remarkable joining together and has continued to bless each of us as we have grown together. We can only imagine what He has in store for us in future years." I paused a moment and took another mouthful of coffee, both to keep my voice lubricated and to give me time to control my passion and the emotion that would betray it. "I want to leave you with some special words. I wish that I were wise enough to give you something original, but I have found something that is so rich and full of meaning that I can do no better than to read this to you." I took out a small slip of paper that I had put in my pocket earlier in the evening before we left the farm. "God gave Moses a very special prayer of blessing for him to say to his brother Aaron many years ago, and this is the prayer I want to give to you Connie, Chris and Nick tonight. 'The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace.' Amen." The boys followed Connie's lead and reached out their hands to take hold of mine. Connie spoke. "May we also pray that for you, Dad, as you deal with new and difficult times in your business venture. We treasure the words you leave with us, but in our hearts we treasure you much more. Thank for all you have done, and for continuing to care for Nick as he goes with you. May you also know God's peace." We were all very much overcome with the significance of this, our farewell dinner. The quiet night was occasionally punctuated with the noise of passers by and distant vehicles in the roadways of the town, but the four of us were immune to outside influences, wrapped as we were in our unshakable love for each other. Connie and Chris came to the city with us and we collected Wayan at the university before heading to the airport for our departure. It was a sad farewell, yet one full of bright promises for the future. Nick and I were called for boarding and, after clearing immigration, had fifteen or twenty minutes to browse the duty free shops and have a final cigarette before we were admitted to the aircraft. We found our seats and were sipping chilled champagne as the wide-bodied Garuda aircraft taxied out to the end of the runway. Four hours later we boarded another smaller plane from the transit lounge of the Ngurah Rai airport in Bali that took us into a different time zone and landed us at the bustling Surabaya Juanda airport. My staff would have met us at the airport, but I had asked them not to. It is not all that easy going to and from the airport in this city. Instead, they would be coming to our house that night for a welcoming dinner. So Nick and I found the baggage area, retrieved our stuff and headed for the taxi rank. Nick was totally unprepared for the sticky heat, the perpetual smog of a million belching exhaust pipes, the chaotic traffic and the multitude of people that crowd the highway from the airport into the city. Surabaya has almost as many people living in its precincts than occupy the whole of Australia! Nick could not believe it. The forty minute trip to our house was Nick's baptism of fire , his first taste of the exotic tropics. The taxi driver found our house, located a stone's throw from the towering hotels, shopping centres and office buildings in the very heart of this pulsing city, the second largest in Indonesia and ranking among the major cities of the world. We gratefully went indoors, worked out where we would put our gear, and headed for the shower. The house had a nice gardened area with a pleasant swimming pool, very different from the crowded and often ramshackle dwellings occupied by most of the population about us. We sat outside in the shade of a sprawling old tree to enjoy a cigarette. "Would you like me to introduce you to Javanese coffee?" I asked Nick. "Sure thing. Have you got some here?" "No, and we probably wont ever have any in the house. There is a warung just around the corner that serves great coffee, and they will bring it here for us if we ask them. But right now I think it would be a good time for you to see how the people live in this city. Lets go for a walk." "Hey, what's a warung?" Nick asked as we started off, his bare feet stretching their grip on the pavement, relishing the freedom at last from the sandals he had worn on the flight. I explained that it is sort of like a cafe, but without the trimmings. We found the warung and enjoyed the rich black coffee, watching the sky turn quickly dusky to indicate the start of our first night together in Indonesia. This story, along with supporting photographs, may be viewed by members of the Yahoo! Group Aboriginal Farmboy at: http://asia.groups.yahoo.com/group/aboriginal_farmboy/