Bushveld Seduction

Mosquitoes? Even they have their use, you know. You don't believe me? Let me explain...

I was nineteen, an 'experienced' girl, because I had lost my virgin the previous summer at our beach house in Kleinmond, and ever since I had been 'sexually active', which was why I did not look forward to the trip my parents had planned for July. Apparently, one of my mom's many lovers, Billionaire Bruce, had invited us to come and camp with them in Mpumalanga, the former Eastern Transvaal. My pleas to visit a friend in Durban (who had a very fuckable brother and where I could try out my new string bikini) fell on deaf ears, though. All my stepdad Carl said in reply was that we would be close to the Kruger National Park and could go in as day visitors. I wanted to know who else would be there, and my mom said it would be Albert and his current concubine. That was when I perked up. It appeared to me that the whole trip was planned for wife-swapping, and maybe I could get an innings with an older man. It would give me some experience with that age group, because I had my sights on a suave middle-aged lecturer at my college. So, I stopped bickering and packed my hottest hotpants and tightest T-shirts, plus some lingerie to spell out to any male that I was a pussy on the prowl.

Forget about the trip to the farm. It was a fairly large game farm with a bush camp, consisting of five bungalows, a large, central lapa with a fireplace big enough to roast an ox, and an ablution facility with two shit cans, two basins and a shower. Each bungalow had a basin and a can, too, so we did not have to queue up for a shit.

We had supper and then sat around in the lapa waiting for the other car to arrive, but they were very late, due to a flat tyre, as we learnt later. I went to my bungalow and took up the steamy novel I was wading through at the time. He had just placed his hand on her left tit when I heard the other car, but by then my own hand was in my crack and I could not be bothered about the company.

I got up late the next morning, because what is a vacation if you have to be up at the crack of dawn? The previous day had been quite warm and I usually slept in the nude, so that is how I ventured out, hoping the company would return soon. The camp was deserted and our double cab was missing, so I presumed the rest had gone on a game drive. Carl had made some mealie porridge in the three-legged pot, to which I helped myself, then sat down where the early morning sun could touch me. I like to keep my tan throughout the year, you see.

After about an hour I returned to my bungalow to fetch a towel and went to shower. The camp was quiet except for the flies buzzing around and bothering one; there were birds and vervet monkeys in the trees and I could hear baboons in the distance - but no vehicle. After the shower I left, wearing only my slipslops and carrying a roll of toilet paper. I sought a comfortable place to squat for a crap, a field crap being, in my view, one of the perks of camping out. I guess it is part of the animal in me. A curious monkey was staring at me and I pulled faces at him. I defecated (what a weird word!), wiped my arse and did a tour of the camp. Mom's bungalow looked like a Mongolian cathouse after a police raid, so I gathered that they had had a wild night. Carl was well hung, which was why mom hanged on to him. I also peeked into the other bungalow, which was in a similar state. The fuckers, and I was left out to dry!

Back in my bungalow I picked up the sleazy novel again: the fucker was sniffing her arsehole while her cunt screaming for attention! Oh, well, I guess he liked the variety...

The double cab came back just before midday. Because of the sun, which was taking dead aim on the camp, I put on a flimsy blouse and a pair of cut-away jeans. I'm proud of my tits and my legs, so I like displaying them, you see. I met Albert and Monica: he was a bit shorter than Carl and with the start of a paunch; she was probably late twenties or early thirties and had a good rack - stressed by the halter top which was at least three sizes too small - a slender middle and a pair of thin cotton shorts through which one could just make out the crimson panties. Not bad, I thought. Monica also had a broad mouth and was always smiling, which could be friendliness or basic stupidity. Albert, as was to be expected, had a fixed lecherous leer while his eyes caressed each curve of the three female bodies. Mom was sitting close to Carl, her hand on his crotch in a proprietary fashion, as though she was afraid Monica might make a move on Carl's schlong, which was pitching a tent in his pants. Mom was wearing a see-through blouse, her nipples clearly visible, and a very short skirt. I guessed that she was not wearing anything else.

'Now where the fuck is that youngster?' Monica asked, while searching the camp for movement.

'Who's that?' I wondered.

'It's her son,' Albert replied. 'A book nerd.'

Monica shouted in the direction of the fourth bungalow farthest from us, but there was no response. 'Therese, be a dear and go and call that son of mine, please.'

I obliged. I found him on the bed in his shortie pyjama pants and a big book in his hands. I didn't know his name, so I drew his attention by pulling his big toe, upon which he suddenly sat up, saw me and his hands darted to his crotch to cover his tool and toolbox, which were peeking through the gap in the pants.

'Your mom is calling you. We're having lunch.'

'Okay. Now get out, so I can get dressed.' He made a sweeping motion with his one hand towards the door.

We officially met over lunch. His name was Clarence and it transpired that he was a nerd, a maths and physics nerd. Believe me, the thick book was not a bound copy of a year's Playboy, but an advanced treatise on quantum physics! And this in the middle of the Bushveld during the winter holiday, amply stocked with lions, leopards, wild dogs, buffalo and giraffe, plus a handful of steaming pussies! He was a lanky youth of eighteen summers with a wild bunch of carroty hair and a freckled complexion. After lunch he disappeared into his bungalow again and, I presume, got off on quarks and positrons. Four o'clock we went for a game drive, but Clarence was still engrossed in his book. However, he did appear to help gather firewood for the braai - not too difficult a task, as there were bags of firewood next to the braai area. Then he stood around, looking as bored as a eunuch in a harem. I tried to draw him out a bit, but he just quarked at me.

Mom brushed past me and whispered, 'Perhaps you should talk Anatomy to him.'

We sat around for a while after supper, Clarence clearly very ill at ease. Mom asked him what was the matter, he said something about mosquitoes, and then he disappeared into his bungalow, making sure that the screen door was properly closed. Mom gave me a knowing look, moving her head slightly in the direction of his bungalow. I pondered this: would Anatomy be able to supplant Physics? Perhaps if Anatomy got physical?

Albert stood up and asked, 'Who's for a night drive in the bush?'

Monica shook her head and mom looked at Carl, who pursed his lips and then shook his head. 'You go, darling. I've got some reading to do.'

'I know, it's that book with the four pages where you leave your bookmark in the middle.'

Carl laughed. 'Go on, and have fun. You have a book yourself which needs another reader. Women are like library books, you know, they go through many hands!'

'And men never read the whole book!' she snapped, lifted her skirt to show her bush and, as she walked to the bakkie, she lifted the dress at the back to reveal her bouncing buns. When the bakkie drove away, Carl took Monica's hand and led her to the one bungalow, so it was clear that there would soon be two fucking couples. That made me horny, so I took the bit between my teeth and went to Clarence's bungalow. Only the screen door was closed and fastened with a sliding bolt, but he did come and open for me. Quantum Physics was lying on the bed, without any cum spots on it, and the little fan was quietly stirring the pages.

'What's this about mosquitoes?' I asked.

'Malaria,' he said, and looked miserable.

Now I knew that in winter there are no mosquitoes even in the Lowveld, but my cerebral cogs were turning and came up with a plan.

'Would you like a sure-fire way to avoid being stung?'

'You know a way? I see you are walking around without visible protection.' That was quite true, because I was only my red hotpants then.

I brought my hand quickly up to my mouth and gasped, 'They haven't let you into the secret yet! Oh my god, I'll have to show you. Let me get the stuff in my bungalow and I'll be back in a moment.'

I had a big pot of Ingrams, the white one, with which I returned to Clarence. He was chasing a wall spider when I came in, but I stopped him. 'They're harmless, you ninny, and they catch mosquitoes, so they are really our allies.'

He saw the pot of ointment in my hands and asked, 'What's that?'

'The answer to your problems, Clarence.'

I made him sit down on the bed and explained that it is a common fallacy that malaria mosquitoes suck your blood. Meanwhile I had him remove his top and started to smear the ointment into his chest, neck and back. 'In reality, they try and milk you. They go for a girl's boobs and a boy's rod. Oh, yes, a boy does have milk, cream really.' By now I had him flat on his tummy, reached under his pants to massage his buns, but complained that there was too little space. 'Pull off your pants,' I said, and he did so, not realising what was coming. I kneaded those buns properly and then reached in between them on the underside and started massaging his balls.

'Turn over. The ointment repels the mosquitoes, but I want to make sure there is no cream in your pantry.' The ball-play had given him a good erection, which was now augmented markedly when I started to apply Ingrams to the shaft. I watched him closely, saw the faraway look coming into his eyes and the precum appeared on the purple head, then I gripped his tool and started twisting it very gently, while moving my hand up and down. It didn't take long for him to cream the bed.

'You see, that is what the mosquitoes are after. That is the male milk.' He was staring at me in absolute wonder, so I asked, 'Didn't you know that?' He shook his head and I marvelled at a boy of eighteen who has never jacked off yet, but I believe there is a very small percentage of males who do not indulge in this pleasant pastime.

I allowed him to recover his composure and then announced, 'If you haven't done this before - to keep the mosquitoes away, of course - your larder must be loaded, so I think it advisable that we continue the treatment. There is something more effective than one's hand, of course...'

'What's that?' He looked rather sheepish then.

'You've heard of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? This is something similar.' I pulled down his pants completely and then took down the hotpants, the only garment I was wearing at the time. For obvious reasons, my pussy was already very wet, and smelly. 'I'll demonstrate, Clarence,' so I got on top of him, manhandled his prick a bit to get it hard again, then shoved it into my quim. I watched his face as his rod slipped into the channel: there was this look of absolute bliss on his face, then Mother Nature took over and started moving his rump up and down. I was as horny as hell by now and fucked furiously and, as I was climaxing, I sensed that he was spending too because of the tremor passing through his frame and the spurts of cum inside my womb (protected by the famous pill, of course).

He was so loaded that it took five fucks over the next three hours before he confessed that he wanted a breather. That was when I gave him a lesson in female Anatomy, and for the rest of that week Physics took a back seat to Applied Physical Anatomy. I did get fucked by Carl and Albert during that time, and the last night the three couples had a wonderful gangbang, but taking Clarence's virgin was certainly the high point of the holiday.

On the last night, after another glorious fuck, I told him that mosquitoes do suck your blood, not your milk or cream, but that there are no mosquitoes in winter. He looked rather shocked then.

'So you lied to me, you fucking bitch?'

'Yes, are you sorry about it?'

He smiled slowly. 'No, I'll forgive you. For once a falsehood has served a good purpose. And I like your Physics!'

'And I like your quark probe, Clarence!'