Patrick

All this happened over thirty years ago in Africa, in a world slowly adapting to a future without its former white rulers. It was an exciting time and for a young man fresh out of veterinary school it was clearly the place for to go for adventure before settling down into the family practice. A government scheme for voluntary service overseas was in operation in those days and I applied soon after I had finished my studies. Not long afterwards, a very green (in many ways) VSO volunteer emerged from a tiny 'plane onto a dusty local airfield at the end of a bumpy flight from the capital.

After some intense training, I was lucky enough to get one of the plum assignments up-country, working in one of the fledgling tourist game reserves. I had read Hemingway's books and couldn't wait to get started, but my dreams of being the 'Great White Hunter' were shattered when I learnt that I would be spending most of my time surveying the native cattle for signs of disease. My boss –a dour Rhodesian- kitted me out with a Land Rover with a broken windshield, two jolly African park rangers (poachers were rife in the area) and a young black technician, who, for reasons which will become apparent, I'll call Patrick.

A sheaf of notes, a map and some battered surgical instruments were my stock in trade for the days that followed. Patrick and I measured, tested and injected hundreds of the bony, humped cattle that roamed the plains. The Masai herdsmen were a terrific bunch –friendly, hospitable and highly amused by our antics as we tried to capture and examine their charges. But life wasn't one long rodeo: when the day's work was done, we would take our battered old Land Rover far out into the vast dusty plain and Patrick would show me the spectacular wildlife that surrounded us. He had a wealth of knowledge and I was his willing pupil -just as he was mine during the working day.

Although we got on really well together, try as I might, I couldn't break through his reserved manner and really get to know him. At first I put it down to his shyness, but I soon began to realise that I was dealing with the old colonial attitudes and that the colour of our skins somehow set us apart.

For someone fresh out from rural England, where a black face was still a rarity, I found this difficult to understand. Although we were about the same age and alike in many ways, our upbringing couldn't have been more different: It was always assumed that I would become a vet. and follow my father into his country practice, but Patrick had only his brains and determination and to see him through. I resolved to help him as much as I could and a call to my father in England over a crackling 'phone line eventually resulted in the arrival of a crate of my old textbooks.

As I unpacked them, I felt a pang of conscience that I had hardly opened them, but Patrick handled them reverently and it gave me good feeling to know that they would be cherished and used, rather than left to gather dust in my room back home. In with the books was a gift from my father; a carefully wrapped parcel containing surgical instruments, many of them brand new. Patrick was totally ecstatic when he saw them and threw his arms round me and hugged me hard. His joy was infectious and we danced around like a pair of idiots, while our two rangers looked in wonderment. The last barrier between us had gone and I was seeing the real Patrick for the first time. Our friendship began then and there and still remains firm after all these years.

***********

Not long after, we were recalled for a few days leave and we decided to spend it close to Patrick's home. He stayed with his family, of course, while I boarded with an elderly white couple in their rickety guesthouse nearby. It's become a well-known tourist lodge these days, but back then, its creature comforts left much to be desired.

I didn't care –it was cheap, and compared to a dusty tent out in the sticks it was sheer luxury!

Early in my stay, I was busy working on a report, planning to send it on the weekly mail truck the next day, when Patrick arrived unexpectedly. While I finished my writing, he studied one of my textbooks and for a while we both sat quietly at the table under the light of a single hissing Tilley lamp. I had just finished and leant back with a sigh of relief, when Patrick looked up and asked me a question in his soft, smoky voice. I didn't quite understand the point he was making, so I got up and went to look over his shoulder at the page he was reading. As I leant over him to point to a diagram, I rested my hand lightly on his back and was surprised to feel him flinch like a startled antelope at my touch.

Fearing that I might have offended him somehow, I was about to apologise when he gently pressed his hand over mine to show that it was OK. It was a strange gesture -almost like a caress- and when he smiled shyly up at me, I assumed that he was merely showing his appreciation for my help and I smiled back in friendly encouragement. We turned back to the book again and I carried on with my explanation. It was a hot, sultry evening and all the local insect population was out in force, circling the lamp above us and occasionally hitting the shade with a metallic pinging sound. I was wearing only a sarong round my waist, so when I felt a light touch on my bare leg, I thought that a large bug had landed on me and reached down to brush it off. To my amazement I felt Patrick's hand gently stroking the inside of my thigh! His strange manner suddenly became clear to me and I realised that he must have misread my approving smile as one of consent. Even after all these years, I can't honestly say what stopped me from moving his hand away.

Perhaps it was the excitement of my journey to Africa and the hard work that followed that had pushed all thoughts of sex to the back of my mind but I realised with a start that it had been many weeks since I had last masturbated. It hadn't bothered me until that moment, but it probably explained why my body was reacting so enthusiastically to Patrick's exploration.

At boarding school in England, I had joined in the sexual horseplay and indulged in mutual jerking sessions with a few special friends, but as I grew older, they had dwindled to strictly solo affairs. Even so, I had never forgotten how good it could feel when someone else was in control, so when Patrick's questing fingers reached my testicles, I instinctively spread my legs wide to give him more room. Feeling me move, he snatched his hand away and turned to look at me, his eyes wide with alarm. It was clear from his guilty expression that he was already regretting his boldness and was fearful of my reaction. Something told me that if I did not make some positive gesture, it would take a long time for him to get over his embarrassment and could even threaten our growing friendship. In any case, my long period of abstinence made the thought of mutual pleasure very tempting and it dispelled any lingering inhibitions I may have had. I smiled down at Patrick and slowly untied my sarong.

* ***********

One of my close friends at school had developed a taste for oral sex and was teased unmercifully when he was caught in the act with another boy. He tried it with me several times, but the fear of ridicule had always robbed it of any real pleasure for me. But when Patrick took hold of my rigid cock and slid it between his full, pink lips, memories of those warm summer afternoons in the woods behind the school came flooding back to me -only this time there was no youthful anxieties to hold me back. The sheer sensual delight of his tongue flickering over the sensitive tip of my cock head aroused me so much that I my legs started to quiver and I had to hold his head still to let me recover. He looked up at me enquiringly and nodded eagerly when I suggested that we might make ourselves more comfortable.

I led him to the bedroom and watched as he got undressed: His bright floral shirt was soon unbuttoned to reveal a muscular black torso, but he seemed to take forever fumbling with the buttons and buckles of his khaki shorts. Finally, they dropped onto the wooden floor to reveal a pair of bright red jockey pants, from which peeked the most magnificent cock I had ever seen. The elastic of the waistband held it flat against his belly, so that the broad head almost touched his navel, while the skimpy red pouch beneath bulged almost to overflowing. I couldn't restrain a gasp of admiration at the sight, and he gave me a proud smile as he stepped out of his red pants in one lithe movement.

As a rule, most Africans tend to be rather prudish about being seen naked so that apart from very young boys, Patrick was the first nude African male I had seen. Released from confinement, his cock remained pointing stiffly upwards, thick and black, except for a pinkish ring around the ridge of his bell-shaped cock head. He had been circumcised, but to my surgically trained eye, it hadn't been done very expertly, for the surgeon had left a ragged frill of skin around the thick shaft. When I asked him about it, he told me that it was a puberty rite that all the eldest sons of his tribe had to endure. Fascinted by the sight, I reached over to fondle it, but he pushed my hand away gently, explaining that dry rubbing always made him very sore. I searched around desperately for a suitable lubricant, but since I hadn't fully unpacked from my trip, the only thing handy was a bottle of mosquito repellent, and I guessed that would sting mightily!

My thoughts went back to my school days once more and to Stephen, my cock-sucking friend. I had always been content to be his passive partner, letting him work on me, but never giving in to the urge to try sucking him in return. Schoolboy morality was strangely conservative in those days; mutual 'hand-jobs' were commonplace and acceptable, but anything else was thought 'queer' and shunned by most boys. I had never stopped fantasising about it, though, and even at this stage of my life, my rebellious cock can stiffen up when I recall those boyhood memories.

Now was my chance to try, and without further hesitation, I popped Patrick's shiny brown cock head into my mouth like a ripe cherry. He gave a long sigh of delight and arched his back, thrusting himself further into my mouth so that the ruff of skin tickled my lips as it passed between them. It felt so erotic that I began to quiver with excitement, feeling a pang of regret for those missed opportunities with Stephen, long ago. Sensing my inexperience, Patrick lifted my leg slightly, indicating that I should kneel astride him. Without letting go of my prize, I positioned myself so that I was kneeling over his head, feeling his wiry hair tickle my balls as I offered my own cock to the embrace of his thick lips. Once I was settled, we both gave in to total abandonment, sucking and kneading each other in a desperate need to slake our raging lust.

At school, Stephen had never managed to make me ejaculate by just his mouth alone, so I hadn't expected that Patrick would, but very soon I began to feel the muscles in my thighs begin to twitch uncontrollably, as they always did when I was close to my climax. Sensing my reaction, Patrick grasped hold of my cock and began to rub vigorously along the shaft, while all the time keeping up a relentless suction that made the tip of my cock swell and tingle. I had enjoyed sex with several girlfriends at college, but none of their willing vaginas had ever held me so tightly or milked me with such power as Patrick at that moment. Driven wild with lust, I started to pump into his mouth as fast as I could, hearing him gag as my cock thumped against the back of his throat. Try as I might, I could stand it no longer and my head swam with ecstasy as I throbbed out my first thick load in months. It must have been quite a deluge, for Patrick coughed at the onslaught, splashing little tendrils of my juice back over my groin, before I could withdraw and let him breathe once more.

I needed to catch my breath too, but even as I took my mouth away from Patrick's cock, it become rock hard in my hand and I watched in fascination as jet after jet of his sperm flew high in the air to land back on his ebony belly in thick creamy-white splashes.

************

We lay quietly side-by-side on the bed, waiting for our young bodies to recover from our first frantic need. I usually tend to lose interest once my physical needs have been gratified but this time was very different. I wanted this to be a long enjoyable session with my new friend, so I submitted readily when, a little while later, Patrick reached down for me once more –he clearly felt the same way.

A soft tapping on the door made me freeze in terror and I sat up, pushing aside Patrick's hand, but I was too late! The young houseboy stood at the bedroom door, his mouth wide open in surprise, while the tray he was carrying wobbled dangerously as he took in the scene before him. He had brought me a nightcap of beer and sandwiches every night of my stay, but I had completely forgotten about his regular visit until now.

Patrick sprang off the bed and yelled something to the astonished lad which I couldn't understand, but which the boy clearly did. He stared open-mouthed at the sight of Patrick standing naked and erect before him and clasped the tray in front of him like a shield as if to ward off the torrent of angry words. Patrick eventually calmed down and turned to me, explaining. "This is my brother, Earnest. He works here. Do not worry about him. It will be alright!" I could see that the unexpected arrival of his younger brother had startled him as well, for his majestic erection had drooped down, curling over itself like a large black 'D'. From my position on the bed, it looked like a big black jug handle attached to his belly and at any other time I might have laughed at the bizarre sight –but not now.

The young boy placed the tray on a chair and retreated slowly towards the door, his wide-open eyes gleaming in the lamplight. If he had been surprised by the sight of us lying naked on the bed, there was no disguising his interest, for there was a noticeable bulge in the front of his sarong that hadn't been there when he first arrived. Patrick dismissed him with curt wave and came back to the bed as if nothing had happened. If he's not worried then things must be OK, I thought.

I relaxed and lay back with my eyes closed, dreamily surrendering to the sensual delights of Patrick's questing tongue once more, until a slight noise made me open my eyes and glance nervously around the room. In the corner, half hidden in the shadows, I saw the figure of Earnest, his legs wide apart, fumbling urgently under the cloth of his sarong. His curiosity had obviously got the better of him and he had decided to risk his brother's wrath and join in the fun. He pulled his hands away quickly when he saw me looking at him and made to leave, but when I made a quick gesture to him that it was OK, he gave me a shy smile and tucked the cloth of his sarong around his waist. I nodded encouragingly and he started to toss himself off, cupping his balls in one hand and pressing his stiff little cock flat against his belly with the fingers of the other. I was to learn later that this was the favourite method of many African boys, but it was totally new to me and I watched enthralled as he fluttered his hand up and down, making his cock flick against his belly with a quiet slapping sound.

Patrick was too busy with me to care about his young brother, so it was up to me to beckon Earnest over to join in the fun. He nodded with enthusiasm and trotted eagerly over to my side of the bed, pausing only to cast aside his sarong on the way. He needed a long way to grow to match his brother's super-size, but his boyish cock was well formed and stood out proudly from the woolly curls that covered his thighs and groin. Unlike his older brother, he hadn't been ritually circumcised and his long foreskin shrouded his cock completely, hanging down from the tip like a monk's black hood. Aroused by my earlierexperience with his brother's mighty weapon, I pinched it gently between my finger and thumb and used it to pull the lad closer to me, and after some gentle manoeuvring, I managed to insert the tip of my tongue through the puckered end. It felt warm and silky and as I wriggled my tongue further in and I could feel the soft skin stretching to make room for me as I licked the round smoothness of his cock head. I began slide my mouth back and forth along his length, and he responded immediately, thrusting his hips forward and back in a steady rhythm that matched my strokes. He started to make a quiet humming noise and I looked up to see that he had thrown his head back in delight so that I could only see the whites of his eyes. This is not the first time this has happened to you, my lad. I thought with envy.

I became so engrossed in watching Earnest's ecstatic display that I was neglecting Patrick -but I needn't have worried. He had already noticed his brother by the side of the bed and shuffled round on his knees so that his prominent buttocks faced towards him. His long black cock dangled down from his belly like an excited stallion, swaying stiffly as his head bobbed up and down over my cock. Earnest eyed it calmly and with a confidence that could only have come from experience, he spat copiously onto the palm of his hand and reached between his brother's legs. Clearly, he knew all about his brother's dry rubbing problem.

As soon as he started to stroke his brother's thick shaft, Earnest's own energetic thrusting became noticeably faster and I could feel his cock beginning to swell alarmingly inside my mouth. I reached up to fondle his jet black scrotum just in time to feel the two hard lumps inside suddenly contract and I knew that his moment had come. He gave a little high-pitched yelp and with a final thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock emerged from its sheath with a tiny 'plop'onto my tongue. As soon as I felt the pulsing of his hot cum, my own sperm began to throb on its short journey into Patrick's eager mouth but even as I revelled in my shuddering release, I was startled to feel warm drops landing heavily on my chest –surely I was still being held tightly between Patrick's lips? It took me a few moments to realise that he too, must have erupted at the very same moment as I had and I looked down just in time to see the last white gobbet being squeezed through the slit of his broad cock by Earnest's pink fingers to drip slowly onto my panting body: between us, we had managed a stunning hat-trick.!

Patrick turned to look back severely at his kid brother standing by my side. He spoke a few words of rapid dialect to him and I saw the boy nod vigorously in reply before giving me a startled glance. He took a sudden step backwards, pulling his penis out of my mouth so that his shiny cock-head shrank back into its skinny sheath like a frightened pink animal. I looked down at Patrick and asked. "What did you just say to him?" He teeth flashed white in the gloom as he gave me a broad grin. "I told him that if he ever breathed a word of this, I would tell the 'bwana' to bite off his manhood!"

************

As I said at the beginning, all this took place a long time ago. I am now a busy country vet., having taken over my father's practice when he retired. "Patrick" studied hard and has become one of his country's leading experts on animal diseases. We still write to each other, and we both know that our respective wives love to hear the gossip we read to them, so neither of us mentions the many other sessions we shared before my tour of duty ended.

They were episodes of our lusty youth and pretty tame by today's standards, I suppose. We have both settled down into middle age, but I'm sure that Patrick still has memories of the nights we shared under the wide skies of Africa. And the boy Earnest? He has done well too: The last time I heard he was managing a large hotel in the capital and I have a photo of him with his partner, a good looking Asian youth with long hair and a flashing smile. The look they are giving each other tells me that somehow it's not just a business relationship.