South African Safari Sequel Ch. 05

"And as to the finance, I was hoping that I could convince you to stay."

There it was. The invitation. I needed to think before I answered. "We agreed to talk about the finances and numbers tomorrow. Let's end the business part of this day and enjoy the sunset—and the things we have begun to enjoy about sundown!"

Ron got up, perhaps a bit disappointed that I hadn't jumped at his invitation, but carefully made me another gin and grabbed another beer from the iced tub on the bar. He slipped out of his shorts and spread himself on the stuffed sofa facing west, pulling me in as he handed me the glass. I stretched out over his ample lap, propped my head on the overstuffed armrest, and faced toward the window.

I knew exactly where this was going and I shivered in the expectation. Ron moved his bottle to his left hand as his right rested on my crotch. I took a sip as his fingers moved under the band of my shorts. His fingers trailed through my curly dark pubes as his thumb and first finger circled my shaft. The other fingers were placed lightly under my balls, cradling them softly as the heel of his hand pressed on the taint. From that point, the movements were slow and erotic. I was spent, but he was softly bringing me back to an interesting arousal. His hand was making love to my cock—and my cock was responding to the expert stroking. I was relaxed and content, being slowly aroused. But, it wasn't clear whether he was trying to reverse my intention (not to stay) or use my genitals like "worry beads." I guess I just think too much.

The sun was just above the horizon, a small arch of bright color above the scrub trees. The air was moist and microscopic dust particles hung before us, creating an impressionist image without hard edges. It was so Africa! The mystery and danger hidden beneath that scrub with the incredible beauty of rough nature above.

I took another sip and turned to look into his eyes. They were the eyes of a disappointed and melancholy young man. I hoped it was a young man considering the difficult practicalities of achieving his dream—a dream I had just complicated with reality, but I feared that they were the eyes of a man who had realized his expectations that I would stay with him forever were just a dream. Why had I returned to South Africa and Ron? Didn't I realize how he would interpret this move? Was I really, deep down, into this guy? Am I willing to give up the excitement and independence of Miami? Had I become so dependent on urban stimulation and the challenge of the gay chase that I couldn't relax in nature with a fine, simple man like Ron? And what about Breck? I'm afraid that my eyes too became watery—and when I looked back at the sun as it set, I was looking through eyes filmed with tears. Neither of us spoke—but his fingers continued their explorations and stimulus. We were apparently both in deep contemplation.

At that moment, Harriet's chime rang—supper was served in the kitchen. We rose from the sofa. Ron pulled on his shorts and both of us added tees.

But, he had a surprise. When we entered the kitchen, the table was set for six—Harriet had invited four of the potential ranch-hands to meet us. Ron had known, but had not told me.

They were all young 20s, sporting the muscles of hard labor, coal black, just under six feet each, with black really short hair, and sculls so square and angular that could have been carved by Modigliani from Belgian marble. They were beautiful. They smiled and brilliant white teeth, framed with supple pink lips, lighted their faces. All approached Ron immediately and each separately hugged him tightly—they had obviously been friends for many years. He introduced them to me, and each carefully shook my hand, while a second hand held my shoulder and stared carefully into my face. "These are my oldest friends from the village. I went to school with all of them. All of them have done college level work in ecology and animal husbandry. All are certified safari rangers. I think we'll have one of the best teams in the country. And it will be MY breeding team." With such an introduction, the guys backed off a bit, apparently embarrassed by the praise. Harriet meanwhile stood back beaming. These were all her nephews.

I looked around at all of them again. They were all dressed in tight safari shorts which displayed full packages and high bubble butts and epaulettes on shirts in light beige. And, rather irreverently, I thought, they can be my breeding team anytime! I was in the midst of magnificent African masculinity, radiating sexuality, multiplied by four. One guy in particular seemed to be the leader of the group, but he always deferred to Ron, often while smiling into my deepest soul.

Harriet had prepared a feast and motioned us all to places at the table. I looked over and noticed the modest kitchen and appliances with which she had been working. And I wondered.

She carved and served wild boar that she had marinated and braised, roasted baby potatoes, a bean casserole (with at least four kinds of beans under a crust of spicy crumbles—perhaps corn bread?). A salad made of local ingredients with a spicy fruity dressing followed. Of course, she had baked bread—we could smell the baking hours before. And then there was trifle (pudding in Anglo terms)—a giant bowl of mixed spiced cake chunks, whipped cream, Amarula liqueur and chopped local fruits and nuts. I noted that Ron took enormous portions of everything—now I understood the changes in his body! Ron and I had a delicious Franschoek cabernet—but I noticed the "nephews" abstained from the alcohol.

Conversation flowed easily, mostly about barely legal exploits that the friends had pulled off in earlier years. It was like a reunion of old buddies. Later I learned that, fearing the influence of "natives," his step father had insisted that he attend a "proper" European prep school (i.e. segregated)—and so the boys had been separated at about 13 or 14, but often met during the summer and on weekends.

Toward the end of the meal, Ron introduced a bit of business. He explained that I was a financial consultant and investment banker, but that since I had an MBA, I had agreed to review the business plan. Ron asked whether the guys could join us tomorrow for discussion of the breeding program aspects of the business plan. All eagerly agreed—and we set aside a few hours at the beginning of the day for that discussion—since all of the guys had jobs, more or less.

The meal ended early and on a high note. And Ron and I headed off to the suite. I really wasn't sure what to expect. There was only one bed. Some things had been said in the afternoon which had the potential to change everything between us. Without any further conversation, we both readied and climbed under the big fluffy duvet. Ron pulled the mosquito netting closed, creating a cozy den, or maybe a cage. Again without a word, he pulled me into a tight embrace, and we necked—tough and hot—for some minutes.

He broke the clinch and pushed me onto my belly. I vee'd my legs in invitation, and he reached over with fingers coated in lube to begin opening me. It didn't take long. I was squirming under his arousing butt massage and lifting to permit his fingers to probe more deeply into my chute. He knew I was ready. Then I felt his weight on my back although his arms spread to my sides carrying most of his bulk. The head of his cock touched, requesting entry and I opened wide. He moved in and paused—giving me a chance to adjust to the temporary pain of the size of his cockhead and him a chance to enjoy that first great feeling of exhilaration as a man enters a man. It never gets old. It's fresh and exciting every time.

Soon he began to slide in, his girth stretching my sheath in pleasure. He found the prostate and punched it a few times, receiving moans of intense pleasure from me. Then he continued on, inch by inch with each new stroke until he bottomed and I felt his hot full balls tapping my own. He was a terrific and gentle lover. He had the equipment size to fill his partner, and the compassion to insure that everything was pleasure for both. Then he did something that he had never done before. He sat back on his calves and pulled me into his lap, his hands holding tightly to my pecs and squeezing my nipples. My cock jumped in surprise and leaked precum. I pushed back into his barrel chest. This was a big strong man of the earth. Someone you could depend on always. A hand rose to my throat and pulled my face around. He kissed me deeply and murmured over and over, "I love you, Paul. I love you." Then with the other hand, he reached down and scooped some of my precum and sealed our lips together with the taste of me.

I was at the peak of arousal—and tension. "I'm going to cum, Ron." And so he broke our embrace and stroked me hard to a memorable orgasm, then pushed me into the mattress and pounded me for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes, until he too filled me with his seed. Then he froze, plugging the creamy fluid inside, seeming to want to impregnate me with his future. Finally and slowly, he rolled back onto his side on the mattress and pulled me into a tight spoon, his dick still inside. Soon we both were sleeping. TBC BD