Date: Wed, 30 Jun 2021 10:23:14 +1200 From: Ben Highlander Subject: An Unexpected Pleasure 1 This is a story about the developing romance between a straight man, a 10-year- old boy and the boy's father. If you object to male on male, or male on boy, or dad on son sex, please don't read the story. The people in this story are fictional, and the events do not represent or describe anything that has happened to me in my life. I don't approve of or endorse a relationship of a romantic or sexual nature between men and boys, and if I met somebody that was pursuing such a relationship, I would report them to the authorities. Consider donating to nifty to keep this amazing site going. Ben Highlander ............................................................................ The bell tinkled when I walked in, kind of like the ones run by those uppity, high and mighty types, who summon servants who reinforce their belief that everything in the world revolves around them. I was so over that. I worked for a family who ran their little dynasty around them and their needs. Everything, and I mean everything revolved around them and what they wanted. The rest of us have to spend our time satisfying their every whim. Well, at least those of us that worked for them. But I digress. So I walked into this diner. It was one of the few that had resisted the inevitable black hole of franchising that had South Africa by the short and curlies. I suppose that it was because I was in a small Free State town that some Wimpy devotee had never heard of...yet. Under normal circumstances, the bell would have been charming, but here I was in the asshole of the earth running yet another errand for my boss. He had this grand idea of building a complete development with shops, schools, office parks and townhouses. The only snag is he wanted to do it here. Well, everything else they had touched had turned to gold, why not this one? As you can tell I was pissed off and none too happy to be away from home again. But I needed the job to pay for the car and the house that I drove and lived in while I waited to go to the job to...oh fuck it. As I stepped into the diner my eyes travelled around the large glass-enclosed room to see who else was there. There were a couple of small-town denizens dotted around the room. They clearly just about lived here, as they chatted amiably with each other and the white woman who waited on the tables. I mention the white part because, in Johannesburg, where I hailed from, there was nary a white face to be seen manning petrol (gasoline) pumps and waiting on tables. A relic of Apartheid, I suppose. I sat down at the nearest booth and took hold of the menu to decide what to satisfy my frustration-induced craving for something sweet. As I looked up from the lavish choices on the menu (read: ice cream and hot chocolate sauce, koeksisters -- two pieces of dough plaited together, deep-fried and then, while hot, immersed in a sickeningly-sweet syrup. One of the less appetizing sweetmeats Afrikaans culture has to offer, yet, incomprehensibly, a firm favourite-- and melktert -- a tart made of congealed sweetened milk strewn with cinnamon; can be quite tasty when made well, as it is definitely not as sweet as the koeksister mentioned above. I noticed that the "waitress" (more likely the owner of the establishment, I suspected) walked over to a smaller form that was sitting at the long counter that fronted the grill. A boy, about 10, I guessed, sat on one of the red bar stools that stood like shiny mushrooms around the worn counter. He was reading a comic book, clearly from a stand that wasn't more than an arm's distance away. The presumed proprietor walked up to the boy, put her hand on the back of his neck and said something to him that I didn't hear. She smiled as he joyfully replied: "Asseblief Tannie!" ("Please Auntie"-- a term of respect reserved for older people who were not necessarily related to you). My heart stopped. As his eyes followed her around the counter I caught sight of the most angelic vision I had ever beheld. His face was triangular, and his smile consisted of a thin top lip that arched like a true cupid's bow above his pearly-white (clearly farm-fresh, milk-fed) teeth. Even when his face relaxed, he still smiled, whether he tried to or not. His eyes, above his cute button of a nose, were like nothing I had ever seen. They were huge, light green-blue, and slanted upwards at the corners. He had the look of a blonde wood sprite, his short hair framing a high forehead. The "tannie" approached him from behind the counter and set down a green milkshake. His breathtaking smile lit his face as he pulled the straw into his mouth with his pink tongue and settled it on his pearly pink, plump bottom lip. His smooth olive cheeks hollowed as he sucked the frothy green liquid into his waiting mouth. I was transfixed by the sight. I had a weird feeling in my gut. I couldn't place it but I ignored it because just then the "tannie" leaned over to the boy, whispered something to him while looking at me. He nodded, hopped off the chair and came over to my cubicle. "Dag oom" (Good day uncle "uncle" likewise a term of respect for a male elder) he said, as he walked over. "The tannie asks what you want to eat," he asked in Afrikaans. His cheeks were pink as he shyly looked me in the eye and for some reason his permanent smile brightened even further. My tummy fluttered. I wondered if I was feeling what the girls call "broody" or something. Ok, let's back up for a moment: Let me tell you something about myself. I'm a straight-as-they-come South African leb, (Lebanese), I live in Bez (Bezuidenhout) Valley with my wife of three years, and we don't have any kids yet because I can't see myself giving up my independence to look after a rug rat. I'm six foot two and weigh in at about 90kgs of solid muscle. I have a light black dusting of chest hair between my otherwise bald pecs, which I maintain by going to the gym every day. I'm proud of my body and the only man that turns me on is me. I love to look in the mirror at my thick black hair and killer smile, and wink at myself with my long-lashed, deep brown eyes. I have dimples on both cheeks and my chin, which makes it hard for me to shave my very persistent beard, so I only do it about every second or third day. The ladies find the whole package very appealing and my wife has her work cut out for her, keeping their attentions at bay. We have a great life: weekends we go water skiing on the Vaal river off my boat, we fish in the deep water while I drink my Castle Lager, and when the sun goes down I make love to my long-limbed wife under the stars on our holiday home patio, with my thick, 7.5inch uncut Leb cock, nested in luxurious black pubic hair that I keep untrimmed because I like the smell that collects there after a day of sweaty work on site. But back to my story. The boy stood next to me, about 4ft tall, and put his hands on the booth table. I could see he didn't chew his nails as his hands were clean and oddly graceful. He rocked back and forwards using his arms as leverage against the table. "Goeie mȏre, seun, (Good morning, boy) what"s your name" Mine is Tyrone," I said in Afrikaans. My little waiter smiled even brighter and stuck out his hand like some kind of mini adult. Afrikaans boys are taught at an early age to give a firm handshake. "My naam is Ollie (My name Is Ollie)" he answered. "Bly te kenne, Ollie (Glad to meet you, Ollie)" I said, as I held onto his hand for a while, for some reason, and I looked into his magical eyes. Those same, bewitching eyes looked down at our hands and his cheeks coloured pink again. "Wat wil oom hȇ om te eet" (What do you want to eat, Uncle?)" He reminded me why he had come over, but in a soft, respectful voice that couldn't possibly give offense. "Ice cream and hot chocolate sauce," I answered, while I processed the emotions that rose unbidden, drawing me to this enchanting little being in front of me. "Lekker, (delicious)" he replied decisively, skipped off and hopped onto the red mushroom, perching on his knees. "Tannie hy seȇ aais kreem met hot tjokolit sous!" (aunty he says Ice Cream with hot chocolate sauce). He looked back at me, and his eyes communicated a secret joy. We were joined in our love of something sweet. While he perched there on his knees I caught a glimpse of his behind for the first time. I quickly looked away but it was too late. His slim shape was packaged trimly in jeans and as he leaned forward his slim-fitting T-shirt pulled up and I saw his lower back on display for all to see. I don't think anybody else took the sight in but I sure did. The picture was indelibly burned onto my retina. I saw two shallow hollows either side of his spine which hinted at what was below. As he leaned forward to pull my desert nearer, his jeans stretched slightly lower and I saw the cleft of his buttocks peek out. I felt my dick chub up and I got butterflies in my gut. Just then he looked back at me over his shoulder and I blushed a deep crimson as if I had been caught doing something illicit. I was very confused. I felt like a "bakvissie" (literally a fish in a bowl, which denotes an inexperienced and innocent, even slightly gauche girl) receiving attention from a boy for the first time. He slid off his chair, picked up the bowl of ice cream and trotted over to my booth. He put the desert down on the table and I expected him to go back to his perch and settle down to reading some more comics, but he shifted into the booth opposite me and leaned his pointy chin down on his folded arms. He gazed at me expectantly with his perpetual smile, so I drew the bowl to me and picked up the spoon. You've seen the faces that parents make when they feed their young babies, mimicking what they hoped the child would do, opening their mouths in an exaggerated fashion. This is what Ollie did as I brought the ice cream-filled spoon to my mouth. When I had safely delivered the sweet cargo to my waiting mouth, his face relaxed. His tongue flicked out and licked his curved top lip as if in concert with me, as I cleaned the treat off the stubble on my top lip. Just then the bell tinkled and I looked up to see who was entering. The doorway darkened as a huge figure filled the frame. It was almost as if Darth Vader's theme filled the air. Every man in the place sought to become invisible and every woman wanted to appear to be flawlessly beautiful. The man in the door stood at least a head taller than me. He was huge in every way, dressed in farmer's wear with short pants exposing tree trunks nestled under a small overhang of gut. His narrow hips flared up in a V towards his broad chest and massive shoulders, from which his bulging biceps hung like twin bookends encased in his groaning short sleeves. From his face looked the eyes of the diminutive Ollie, only with crow's feet from squinting into the sun as he worked his farm, framing the starling blue-green colour. If this wasn't Ollie's dad, they were definitely related. He didn't enter, but scanned the room, lastly looking in my direction and finding the person he was looking for sitting across from me. He nodded courteously and the adult version of Ollie's smile lit up the formerly serious face. "Seun!" (Son) he called. "Ollie!" The boy across from me turned towards the resonant summons and a matching smile blazed like a sunrise across his visage. "Dag, Pa!" (Good day Dad!) He shifted out of the booth and trotted to his dad, who was making his way over to us. "Ek hoop nie hy pla nie," (I hope he hasn't been a pest) the giant rumbled as he extended his hand to grip mine. I felt my hand disappear into his huge paw, like it was being enveloped in warm milk. Some men have a handshake that is firm but reassuring without being intimidating. I liked this man and we had hardly even met. He had the same manner as Ollie, unselfconsciously, openly welcoming. "Dis Tyrone, Pa," (this is Tyrone, Dad) he piped up happily as his father and I shook hands. I struggled to get up from behind the booth but was relieved when he motioned with his left hand that I should sit, because my dick was snaking down my jean leg, and would have been clearly visible if I had stood up. "Bly te kenne (pleased to meet you). Ek is Dirk Lombard, (I am Dirk Lombard) en jy ken blykbaar reeds my seun Ollie (and apparently you already know my son, Ollie). Ek hoop nie hy was lasting nie"(I hope he didn't bother you) he reiterated. "No, he wasn't at all. He was helping the Tannie to serve me, is all," I huskily answered. This family seemed to have an unsettling effect on me. Dirk winked at me and finally released my hand from his grip. "Nee, maar dis mooi so, Tyrone (No, but it's good, Tyrone). Ons moet gaan, lekker dag." (We have to go, have a nice day) "Totsiens Tyrone," (Until we meet again/goodbye, Tyrone) Ollie called out as they turned and left, leaving the room a bit dimmer in the wake of their departure. I watched them climb into Dirk's bakkie (truck/Ute) and just before they drove off in a cloud of dust, I saw both of them smile and wave at me. I finished my ice cream, paid and went to my motel room to think about what I had just experienced. Only I didn't know what to think. I decided not to think at all. I just hoped I would see the smiling father and son, Dirk and Ollie again. Coming to this little dorp (town) wouldn't be such a chore if I did.