South African Safari Sequel Ch. 03

Chapter 03

Paul tops, some confessions, then Paul and Breck split

This story is entirely original and fictional. South African Safari was published on Literotica several months ago. The gym/club mentioned in the story is the same as the one described in some detail in Jake and His Wild Irish Rose—my first published story on Literotica. There were requests for more chapters after South Africa. All Characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. No AI was used in the production of this story. © 2024, All rights reserved. Brunosden

(Paul's narrative continues.)

Later we moved to the kitchen bar. Take-out was Szechuan and delicious. And we were both glowing from the best sex we had had in the two weeks we had known each other. Just thinking about it gave me a semi—which was hard to hide (even if I had wanted), given that we were both nude. (Once again with the food Breck surprised me. I thought New Englanders had spice-free taste buds, yet he had enjoyed the Cuban restaurant, and this food was quite spicy. I had so much to learn about this boy.)

After dinner, we tried to walk on the beach. The waves were almost non-existent; the water was tepid; and, there was no breeze. So after just a few hundred yards (and dozens of no-see-um bites), we gave up and headed back to the condo. It was so different from my "downtown" condo where lights around burned all night. Looking north the beach was nearly deserted and while there were a few high-rise condos in the distance on the other side of the inlet, almost none had lights. Early October was probably the nadir of the population of Dade—people feared hurricanes, avoided the too-warm water and untra-humid air. In a little over a month this entire landscape would change dramatically. While the population where I lived was young and mostly year-round; here it was definitely older snowbird country.

Breck pulled out some lightly-anesthetized cream and rubbed our legs to reduce the itch. I was already alive to his touch. Then we flipped on the wide-screen and decided on a recent Netflix release, a recent spy flic with Matt Damon—after we compared notes and realized that both of us were avid readers of espionage and legal fiction--although neither of us had legal training, or even a lawyer in the immediate family. I guess, for that matter, we didn't know any spies either. We nestled into a serious movie-watching double-recliner which had lots of loose cushions, a built in vibrator-massager, remote-control and even built-in speakers. (Breck had labeled the recliner "Uncle Charlie's sex machine".) Periodically, we'd look over at each other and move into a kiss and an embrace. Nothing very heavy, just pleasant and familiar.

When we were most of the way through the film, Breck pulled me into his lap. His hand had been cupping my balls and teasing my shaft for some time. My arms reached around his neck and pulled in for a deep kiss. Our sweaty chests pressed together. "I want you to fuck me tonight. But, I'll be honest. You're my first. You've got a lot of work to do to open me for that long monster that's in my hand. Shall we head for the bedroom? We both know how this ends. The movie—and the sex. But getting there is most of the fun, isn't it?"

So we headed for the bedroom. Somehow, I thought this should be more ceremonial. But, that was going to be difficult—we were both already nude; we were both being led by steel pipes; we had used this bed before which was rumpled; and we both knew where this was going. And Breck seemed to be in a joking playful mood—perhaps covering for his "first timer" apprehension.

"I'm doing a massage first, Breck. I've got some cocoa oil in my duffel. I want you always to associate my taking you the first time with the Caribbean. Let's pull off the duvet and I'll get a few towels from the bath."

I grabbed a few large-sized towels and spread them over the sheets. "Chest down to start."

I spread the fragrant oil over his shoulders and back, sat astride his waist, and began the massage. My cock bounced on his muscular back each time I bent into the motion. He wasn't tense; the muscles weren't bunched—but they were hard and developed. I continued to the lower back. It was a marvel that his waist was so narrow. I reached around and pushed hard on the deep indentation of his belt. I leaned in and used my chest in a full body tantric massage. He was moaning in pleasure.

As I moved to the foot of the bed, his legs veed. I reached under and pulled his rock hard dick into the void, bending over to plant a fat wet kiss on the head. I executed long sensuous strokes on the legs, concentrating on the erogenous inner thighs. I pulled the glues apart and my tongue reached down to stroke the cleft. I dipped in a few times. "We'll come back to this later," as I tapped him to roll over.

When he rolled, his profile was caught in the setting sun. And his long thick dick cast a shadow that reached across the room. How could I deal with this? I reached forward and planted a chaste small kiss on the head. He groaned. And so I pulled the hood down and began to use the tip of my tongue in his slit. He almost levitated from the mattress. "It's time Paul, you need to open me so that I can enjoy your cock. I'm so close. Already."

I reached up, and, as my dick dueled with his, I massaged his pecs, squeezed his hipples, and stroked down toward the Promised Land.

He interrupted the seduction again. "if you don't start preparing me to take you, I'm gonna cum without you. You are just too much, Paul."

I had decided that I was going to take him missionary. So I pulled up his legs and he grabbed them quickly—he knew the expected routine--and rolled back into the bed, presenting his dusky pink mancunt for my use. I dipped a few fingers in the lube tub and began to probe. He was hungry and drew me in. So I added another. He had the biggest and most responsive prostate that I have ever touched. When I poked it, it pushed back into my fingers, as he groaned in pleasure. This guy might be a virgin bottom, but he had the hottest ass that I had ever used before. He was a natural. My fingers fucked him for a few more minutes, but I realized he was way ahead of me. He was at the edge.

So I lined up and pushed my head into his opening. He whistled—loudly—then opened and admitted my dick inside. From this point, he really didn't seem like a virgin. His ass ate my dick like a professional. He sucked me right in and pushed his ass into my gut as his legs circled my ass. He was a natural—top and bottom. I could tell his arousal was near the peak. So I drilled, hit the prostate over and over, and bottomed. His face turned red. His chute tightened and molded to my invading dick.

"Oh, god, Paul, that is so good. You got me, lover. You can do me anytime. I want your snake in me again and again." And then he started hurling long ropes of creamy cum between our chests. I was fucking Breck, the god of my dreams and at his insistence! He was hoping it would alleviate my fears of becoming his slave, but in fact, he was drawing me into his world just by being who he was.

It didn't take long. I pumped a few times, pulled in my gut, stretched my legs, plunged as deeply as I could and filled him with my spunk. And at that second, I had an apparition.

This guy was a god. He had taken me—and now I had taken him. A god had permitted me to take him. I wasn't a sub. I was a full sexual partner. My fears of becoming his sub dissolved. He was mine. Mine. Mine! I could take him when I wanted. And this of course immediately convinced me that he could have me—anytime, anywhere, in any position. If he could do this, I could do that. I think we'll have to do this a few more times before the reality sinks in. But who's complaining?

I flipped to the side and Breck took me into a deep spoon.

And as we drifted off, I remembered that I had booked a trip to Durban in a few days. What was I thinking? How could I drop that on him now?

The next morning, after briefly taking care of the necessities, we flipped. Last night was not going to be a fluke. Breck genuinely seemed to like playing bottom. I should have known. He had readily accepted my earlier ass play. We were going to have some real adventures.

Later we worked out—hard as always, and then we braved the beach. A small wind had come up and there were a few waves, so we body-surfed in the lukewarm water. Breck of course protested throughout that the ocean in Miami was like a bathtub in Boston. I had to agree—but I did remember that I was never fond of the water in Lake Michigan. I guess I'm a wimp as well as a neurotic.

Saturday night we drove up to Ft Lauderdale, had a quick light dinner, and attended an early-in-the-season concert. The Palm Beach Symphony performed an easy-to-take pops, devoted almost entirely to Gershwin, one of the ultimate American romantics. We were falling into an easy companionship, punctuated by really hot sex.

********

Breck more or less solved my South Africa "problem" late on Sunday morning. Both of us had taken a few minutes to catch up on messages, emails and calls. And then we had gone out for brunch at one of the Intracoastal spots. "Paul, these last two and half weeks have been terrific."

With a start like that, my fears kicked right in. He was ending it for some reason.

"I don't want this to end. I'm not sure whether my Dad has found out that I've been with one guy all this time or whether it's a legitimate issue. But, I've had a call from him this morning. There are two beta teams installing the software. The team which is doing in Charlotte what we're doing here is in big trouble. They're running four weeks behind, and bugs seem to be appearing in the system on a too-regular basis. It's even possible there is sabotage from a competitor and that Charlotte's security is lax. That team is headed up by one of my best friends—a prep school buddy from Boston, John Winslow. Dad knows that our project in Miami is ahead of schedule and running smoothly. We can't risk a failure in Charlotte only a few months before going public. So, he's asked me to turn over leadership in Miami to Phil, my second-in-command, and go to Charlotte to straighten them out—late next week. I'll probably be gone for at least a couple of weeks. And if it's as screwed up as Dad suggests, I'll probably be working 24/7. So I won't be coming back to Miami weekends. And it could turn out to be longer."

"Okay that's not the end of the world. I suppose that we're good enough together that our relationship can survive a few weeks of absence. At least I hope so. There's more. There's one more thing. John and I have been friends for more years than I can count. Our families vacation together. We went to the same schools. We go to the same church. Our homes on Nantucket are on the same beach. This could be Mom's work—throwing me back into close proximity with an old friend they approve of. I have no idea if they're up to something or not. But history suggests that they are not going to give up until they have me linked with someone they approve of. I haven't mentioned you to them. And I doubt they know. But one never knows these days."

I knew where this was going. He and John had had a thing—and Breck's family clearly saw John as Breck's partner, not the son of Jewish immigrants from Miami.

"Paul, I'm really into you. I enjoy every minute we're together. I'm not ending us. I've got to do this. Lodge Medical Systems is my baby, my chance to succeed. I've really got to do this."

Breck seemed sincere as he spoke—and his eyes clouded in disappointment. I could tell. But, John Winslow was clearly in the picture—probably very actively still and probably the "family choice." That someone else had been around for a long, long time. I decided immediately. I needed to let him go—with my blessing, and hope for the best. Fuck, we had been together for less than three weeks. And I had just dropped my neurotic back-story into his lap.

"I can deal with it Breck. I know we've been together only a few times over a little more than two weeks. Clearly, there's chemistry. But, I need you to know that I'm not holding you to any idea of exclusivity when you go to Charlotte. You're a free man."

And then I decided to come clean on the South African plans. "This may be fortuitous anyway. Remember the guy I told you about in South Africa? Ron Stillwell? He's leaving the ranger post in the Kruger and taking over a large game ranch that his father left him. He's got a plan to breed rare animals in open, but fenced, wild—and to sell to zoos and theme parks around the world. He needs financial help—maybe just business planning, but maybe a loan to make this happen. I've talked about it with my family, and they have suggested that I might want to take on that task. I've been considering going to South Africa—probably for two weeks—to help Ron get started, and maybe to arrange a loan facility for his farm." (Of course, I didn't mention that I had already booked the trip.)

"He's the guy who helped you get over Billy, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but he's just a friend, a good friend."

"I presume with benefits?"

"That was before we met, Breck. I was in a dark place and he helped me to climb out of a hole."

"Interesting use of words." Breck was clearly not emotionally dumb. He knew the score.

"Let's not argue, please. Breck, I'm definitely falling for you. I think we might have long term potential. Maybe a two to three week absence will convince both of us where we want this relationship to go."

Breck didn't look entirely convinced, but he put on an accepting face. "Let's get back to the condo. If this is going to be a contest for your body, I'm about to submit my entry this afternoon. I don't want to lose you, Paul."

"I guess I could say the same. Here, I'm supposed to be the neurotic half of this partnership. I guess I should be worried about John?"

"Not at all. I'm already past him. He's more like a twin bro than a sexual partner. We even look alike. And when we were fucking, we both had others on the side as well. John's dick has never touched my ass. That space is reserved for your use, Paul. I promise."

And so we raced back to the condo. We had agreed to be apart for a few weeks. Looking back on the last conversation, I realized that he had committed to stay away from John, but I hadn't made a reciprocal commitment. I wondered whether he would realize that in a few days. So each of us had to make a memory.

Both of us were naked before we reached the bedroom. Breck picked me up and threw me on the bed—which we had not made up when we left earlier. He pounced on top, cocooned me, and nibbled on my ear lobe before whispering, "You are all mine, Paul Goodfield. And I am yours." Then he swiveled, grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled me into his mouth. He stroked the frenulum with his tongue tip and poked into the slit as his lubed fingers reached for the prize. He was a man possessed—really a man possessing. I couldn't have moved if I tried. He was torturing me.

I pushed him off my chest and up onto his knees. And his massive hooded cock dropped into my face. I reached up and pulled the fruit into my mouth, slowly retracting the hood to expose the dark red plum. He was already leaking. My tongue darted out to catch his essence. Then I started a full vacuum suck as my fingers stroked the shaft and the heel of my hand pressed on his taint. I could actually feel his spunk dammed up at the base. When I released, he was going to drown me.

But, of course, I realized he was doing the same thing to me—except that his index finger was pushing hard on my prostate coaching fluid up and out of my shaft, which he was licking with abandon.

And although the buildup had been slow, the end came suddenly: we reached the pinnacle. We both spasmed, released, stroked hard, and swallowed as quickly as we could. Our loads were massive. Breck's was like salted honey. And the spunk was leaking from our lips.

Once again Breck swiveled and our lips met and opened. We were mixing our essence—in some sort of ritualized bonding exercise. Finally, in momentary exhaustion, Breck fell back onto the crumpled sheets, leered with cum-moistened lips and pulled me on top. My cheek rested on his rock hard pec—and of course, just to tease, my tongue came out and washed his nipple, followed by just the touch of a suck. I think he levitated inches from the bed. "You really know how to kick—no lick—a guy when he's down." And both us started laughing so hard that we were convulsed. All the tension of the brunch conversation was over. With sex this good, neither of us had anything to worry about.

Much later, he took me again. It was long and slow and hot—just like a late Miami summer afternoon. As usual, he made sure that I came before he did. And he pulled me into a tight embrace as we relaxed. And as usual, we dozed in sweating embrace. More than ever, I was convinced that this guy was the one for me.

The next morning after showers and coffee, Breck dropped me at the firm. It was really a melancholy close to a glorious weekend. We both knew it would be weeks before we were together again. And we both hoped that the absence would indeed bring us closer together.

I walked into the office smiling. Dad motioned me to his corner office. "So you are leaving for South Africa later this week? Are you sure you want to go? I'm guessing that you've found someone pretty special here. You've been in another world for the last few weeks. Even your grandfather has noticed."

I told him a little about Breck—but not too much. It wasn't time to "meet the family" yet. And he knew from experience not to interrogate.

When I reached my desk, there was an email from Ron. He had arranged four days at the camp, probably in "our" old room—corresponding incidentally to the last four days of his employment contract. Then we would drive to the farm—about five to six hours away. He noted that his mother and step-father had moved to the condo, so I was welcome to stay at "his" farm. He warned me that the camp might be a little cold, but that Durban at that time of year was already warm and humid. He asked me to confirm my travel plans. He said he was sending a PDF of his current business plan, including financials. Thanked me for my willingness to help. And he closed with some emojis which certainly suggested he was looking to pick up where we had left off more than a year ago.

But, so much had happened. I was more confident. I was more buff. And maybe I was in love. So I wasn't sure how I was going to handle Ron.

Breck left for Charlotte on Wednesday. So, although we texted and talked daily, we wouldn't see each other again until after our respective adventures. And once I was in Africa even the telecommunications would fade because of lack of wifi and time differences. He was incredibly busy. And I was going to be.

TBC BD