Metamorphosis 1 - 5

 

By John  - [email protected]

 

Chapter 1

 

I stopped to think. A shiver ran from top to bottom, no, more like a quake first shook and then paralysed my body. I felt weak, my insides suddenly churned and I thought I would literally shit myself.

 

What had happened? How had I arrived at this point? I was going to take a man’s dick into my mouth. Willingly. Not just willingly but naked with a room full of other men. 

 

What the fuck had come over me!

 

But the moment couldn’t change, so instead I went ahead and closed my eyes, letting the man feed my mouth with his dick. I took it and sucked. Evidently so well that in a couple of minutes he gave me a mouthful of juice.

 

At the first opportunity, I extricated myself from the room to use the bathroom. Gathering my clothes, I went to clean up but instead of going back to the lounge, crept out the front door.  Jumping in the Land Rover, I took off down the road not choosing any particular direction. 

 

My stomach quaked again as I still tried to get my mind around the fact.  Quickly I skidded to a halt and fell out of the vehicle. Running to the nearest tree and threw up.

 

I sat down near where I had puked, burying my head in my hands.  Where did all this start? I was a normal male, or so I had assumed but quite suddenly it dawned that I had been doing it for quite a long time. Without realising. That could not be possible, could it?

 

How far do I go back? At what point did I change. I can scarcely believe what has happened. I must begin again, at least in my mind.

 

My name is Mark Preston. I’m now 26 years old and have been here in Kenya for three years. The youngest of three sons of a Suffolk farmer, I went to agricultural college after finishing my schooling. Being from a farming family, that was all I could think about. But it became apparent that I had no future in the profession. My eldest brother would inherit the farm, it being not big enough to partition and still be viable. So, I decided to change horses and go to business school.

 

That was enjoyable, not only because I found the subject interesting but I also found a fantastic social life and a great girlfriend. It was the London School of Economics to be exact and the norms were incredibly liberal for a country yokel. In short, after experiencing the occasional village hall dance at home, life at LSE was pure heaven.

 

After college I secured a position with one of Britain’s biggest food and household products conglomerates. Six months later I was asked to go to Kenya to take a position on a group of tea plantations. My time at agricultural college had not after all been a waste and was the prime reason I was selected from the many candidates.

 

In one way it was like being back home on the farm, getting my hands dirty, making my own decisions day to day but in the end, using modern business practices to report and plan. The gave me a bungalow, far too big for one person, near a company compound at the main farm.  There were other people from Britain there, my nearest neighbours being Fred and Martha Simpson. They lived in the next bungalow to me, just 100 metres away. But as there was a deep gully between us, in fact it was a ten minute drive down to the main compound on one track and back up the other. 

 

Another couple were Alex and Alice McKenzie who lived a little further away. But I was soon to find out they were both drunks who did little else but complain about everything you could imagine. After a couple of invites to weekend dinner, I soon made any excuse not to visit them anymore. Work was quite hard in the heat, and to spend my day off with them was just a complete waste.

 

Fred and Martha by contrast were wonderful people. At least once a week I got a stomach busting feast at their place. It kept me going for at any other time I was light eater. Especially as things developed.

 

Now, arriving in Kenya I was accustomed to looking after myself after the college life and London bedsit land. I was used to fending for myself and eventually after a harsh training period on leaving home, could cope pretty well in all departments even if I say so myself.

 

But the new job came three servants to look after me. Nothing unusual in Kenya though, labour was incredibly cheap and being, how shall I put it “white”, it came with the territory.

 

Imagine, three people to take care of one man who was out at work all day! Initially I could almost imagine I had become the king!

 

But it was imagination for the most.  I had Susan the maid, then Mary who was my cook. In addition there was a gardener who’s name I had no idea of for quite a while.

 

Being up in the hills we were quite a long way from any town of size. The “shopping” was a list of necessities that Mary and myself put together weekly that was sent to the company. A week later they were supposed to be ready for collection.  It was Susan’s job to go with the other maids or whatever, in the company vehicle to pick up the weekly requirements from the main warehouse. It was almost a full day away. Only twenty miles distant, yet over the tracks, first the five miles down “the company” track to the “dirt road”, then ten miles to the “highway”, this last actually have an asphalt surface, it was a long and arduous journey.

 

Once I had settled into my position, my mind began to take a lot more notice of the little things around me.  On night feeling rather peckish, I went to the kitchen fancying nothing more than a strawberry jam sandwich. I had been thinking of home, how mom used to make her own strawberry jam. It was not a new feeling, it had come the week before and I had purposely put it on order and in fact Susan had passed the bill to me and it was ticked off as collected. I could not find it at all.

 

A couple of weeks later, something else came to mind. Again I could not find it although I had seen it on the purchase note.  Puzzled I queried Mary.

 

“You should not be asking me Mr. Preston, but Susan, she is the one you send down for the supplies not me.”

 

Well, that was not what I expected, but she would not answer more. I said nothing feeling I would never get to the bottom of it and perhaps it was me who had made the mistake in some way.  A little while later and again it happened! This time I had begun to make a note of the orders and kept the receipts. Clearly it had been signed off and should be in my kitchen. I challenged Mary.

 

“Not in my kitchen Mr. Preston, I can assure you of that. Better take it up with Susan.”

 

So that evening I got out the bills and had a word with her. She had no explanation and remained silent bar the guilt on her face. An hour later she had packed her bags and had gone.

 

Mary, good woman that she was, kindly volunteered to take over the cleaning jobs too, it not being a monumental task with only me to take care of.  Once Susan had departed, Mary spoke plainly that she was not to have been trusted and was good riddance. If only she would have said something before!

 

Mary came from Nairobi, which is where her husband still lived. In one of her visits back home she had managed to become pregnant and it was beginning to show.  At somewhere around this time I first noticed the gardener who looked after the immaculate flower beds and lawns.

 

He was cutting up a fallen tree and as I looked out from the lounge window, I couldn’t help noticing how hard he was working.  An hour or so later, I looked again and he was still at it. The immediate thought that came to mind was that if the company had a full staff of people like him, we could do better with even just half of them.

 

I am not being racist here, that observation included whites too, particularly Alex McKenzie who seemed nowhere to be found every afternoon. In general, life was extremely slow here, even if the days were long. That of course was a lot due to the climate, but even so the “whites” for all their thinking they did the work, did it at a lot slower pace than back in England, that I had no doubt at all.

 

I asked Mary about the gardener.

 

“Ah, young David. Very nice boy he is. Feel so sorry for him though”

 

Of course, I had to inquiry more.

 

“His father, from England, worked out here for 20 years. Settled with this young woman he had met in Mombassa. Brought her up here and had a child, young David.  Then when he reached 60, he went back to England leaving David and his mother behind. A couple of years back she left to Mombassa where she works in a hotel. David was lucky in that he got the job here. But as you know, he is not full Kenyan and being such a good boy I feel sorry for him.”

 

I had seen him about the place, returned a wave from him sometimes as I walked around the garden or arrived back from work. But other than that I would not have even been able to recognise him from anyone else in the neighbourhood.

 

I walked back to the lounge and watched him work. Even under the hot sun he was still toiling, sawing, hacking, lifting and carrying bits of the tree. As always he was wearing just shorts, the standard dress if you can call it that.  To me he looked like anyone else on the farms, but the more I looked for what might be the English part of him, the more I became aware of something.

 

I stood with my Vodka, looking out the window watching. Did he look different? No. His skin was a light coffee colour where most were black. Most but not all, so in that there was nothing really unusual.

 

But what was it? I stood watching him for going on half an hour. The more I watched the more I could see he was different from everyone I had seen so far.

 

It came to this. His movements. My first appraisal was that he moved gracefully. But then I dismissed that word as having to many female connotations. He didn’t move in a feminine way at all. What would be the right word?  Fluid, is what I came up with. Still, it does not say exactly what I want it to say. As I watched him dismember this tree, not once did I see a jerk of body movement. Every motion seemed to flow, starting at one limb and following through to every other like a wave travelling over a still pond. Quite extraordinary.

 

Puzzled, I walked back to the kitchen and sat down with Mary, trying to extract more information.

 

He was nineteen only and had worked here for three years, in which time had made the garden immaculate. His now absent father had taught him English, both reading and writing, to a high standard. But he never made it to high school, his father having left before then and it was financially impossible for his mother alone.

 

Now I could see why Mary felt sorry for him. He was not fully a local or English so I imagined he didn’t fit into any particular camp. In other circumstances he would have had a head start with having an English father but perhaps now it was a case of a bright boy not having the opportunity to develop.

 

I poured another Vodka and walked out onto the lawn taking a look at the flowers, which I rarely did. 

 

“That tree looks like hard work David” I said, making my approach.

 

He jumped with not having noticed me draw near. Then his face lit up in a smile.

 

“No sir, not really. It will give you some wood to burn when it gets cool at nights, if you give it time to dry out”

 

“Yes, that will be good, a log fire now and again. Well, I must say you have done a good job with the garden, it looks a treat.”

 

His eyes dropped shyly to the ground. Then quick as a flash he looked back and grinned.

 

“Thank you sir, glad you like it.”

 

Being the first conversation with him, I was at a loss to say more. I nodded to him and continued my walk around while I pondered his features. Yes, he looked like he was from here, but then again, he had a face that could be from anywhere. The one thing that I did notice was that unlike everyone else, his hair was straight instead of curly. That must be the English part if anything was.  He was handsome too, which only stood out because it was something I had rarely seen in man or woman since coming out here.  Tall, slim but with well shaped body, nevertheless he hardly would seem to the kind of young man to work so hard in manual labour.

 

Chapter 2

 

A couple of weeks later, they were both in the kitchen drinking coffee when I returned home a little early. That was unusual; I had not known David would normally be allowed in the house.

 

“Mr. Preston, we need to talk” said Mary in her direct no nonsense way.

 

I joined them with a cup.

 

“Now Mr. Preston, I’ve had three babies already but I have a bad feeling with this one. I don’t want to leave it too long before I go to see my husband. I couldn’t face that journey if I did, specially if something happens before my time.”

 

I nodded my understanding.

 

“Now this last month, I’ve had David do all the heavy housework, the vacuuming, polishing the floors and things.  He’s a good boy as you’ve heard me say before. Till I am finished with the new baby, he can take care of the house if you like. There is not much to do with only you here when all said and done.  As for the cooking, well I am hoping that is not going to put you out too much. David can’t cook your kind of food, so that will be up to you.”

 

I had no idea she had been using him around the house. Still, it was clean and beyond criticism.  As for cooking, well I survived three years at college, so perhaps a couple of months taking care of myself would do me some good rather than not. Anyway there was always Fred and Martha to make sure I didn’t starve and weekends I could drive down to Limuru and eat at the Club. No problem as far as I was concerned and I had to agree, she would not want to be making the trip back as she got further into the pregnancy.

 

“No problem with me Mary. If it’s alright with David, can he manage this and the garden?”

 

She tutted. “What’s a bit of grass to cut” she dismissed with a wave. “Boy needs plenty to do or he will go soft.”

 

I looked at him, eyes averted but catching him smiling into his cup. Days later she was off, leaving me with David.

 

Although the bungalow was really big, built for a large family with room for servants, I in fact only used a few of the rooms. The rest were either storage or junk rooms, or just closed. My bedroom, lounge, kitchen, office and shower room were all I had a need for. This last was a strange one. A big room, with one complete corner tiled with a centrally placed shower head. There were a couple of easy chairs in there, but the remainder was empty. I don’t know what the original intention was, but for a shower it was the size of a school changing room.

 

He was always on hand when I got home, making me a coffee which according to Mary, must have been the same as his own food! Slowly we got to know each other and our conversation became more and more involved. There was no TV, but I had a cassette player and radio and there were lots of books left behind by the previous occupants.

 

After I had eaten, I used to finish off any reports and then listen to the BBC world news on the radio. Later I would put on a cassette and read a book till going to bed around 10. That sounds early, but I was up at 5-30 in the morning and with little else to do, why not.

 

David liked to listen to the news with me, asking questions about what he had heard. I kind of enjoyed filling him in on the detail or background to what was going on. Soon I could see the reasoning behind Mary’s choice, he was very bright and inquisitive. I also noticed paperbacks around the house with pages book-marked, so I knew he was a reader too.

 

All was well for a while. Then one evening I began to feel a bit sick. Quickly I got worse and worse.  Feeling very cold I went off early to bed. I began shaking, getting ever colder, till I called David to find some more blankets. I was fully clothed yet I couldn’t stop shivering. Within a couple of hours the room began spinning and I knew there was something seriously wrong. I asked David to call Martha and see if they had any medicine. Alex soon appeared and felt my forehead. They had some antibiotic which I took, hoping it would help.  Alex thought I would need a doctor and promised to call him first thing in the morning.

 

David stayed at my side, watching me deteriorate rapidly. Soon I couldn’t bear to open my eyes for fear of vomiting watching the room go round and round. For the next few hours I shivered and moaned, till at one point I began to sweat. Then I cannot remember anything else. There were times I must have woken, or come around, to see David watching me, or another time fast asleep in the chair by my bed.

 

I never remembered the doctor coming, or visits from Martha and Alex, or even Alice McKenzie.

 

Four days later I woke up. Immediately I was conscious of the smell, my disgusting odour. I absolutely stank. Not just sweat, but almost an acid stench. David was still there, obviously very happy to see me awake.

 

“Oh David, I really need to take a shower” I wailed.

 

“No, no, the Doctor says you must stay in bed till he comes again”. He insisted.

 

“I can’t stay here smelling like this, I really have to have a shower.”

 

He argued and told me to stay put, I told him come what may, I was not staying like this. I was the boss, I won. But even sitting up was a struggle that caught me by surprise. Moving to the edge of the bed and standing was really difficult. No sooner had I managed to stand, I fell back across the bed.  My mind was completely dizzy and couldn’t handle any movements or else my head spun. I had David, still complaining, pull me up. Then he had to support me to the bathroom.

 

Straight away I could see that no matter what I thought, my body was in no fit state to move about. I hurt everywhere, never mind my head spinning. But David belied his stature again and virtually carried me to the bathroom.

 

He dropped me into a chair and quickly got me out of my stinking clothes. Plainly I could not take care of myself, but I did not need to tell David this.  He turned on the shower, testing the temperature. When satisfied, he pulled off his shirt and dropped his shorts. Then he helped me up and walked me into the shower. Now, I could not stand unaided, the thought of toppling over and cracking my head on the tiles was an obvious danger. David as smart as he is, held me under the nozzle for a couple of minutes, then guided me to the wall. If I was able to prop myself against the wall, he could soap me down.

 

With an incredible effort, I pushed back against the wall to keep myself upright, concentrating all my strength on not allowing my knees to buckle. In the meantime, David soaped me from top to toes, then with arm around shoulder, took me back into the spray and then on to the chair. He towelled me off and guided me back to the bedroom where I dropped into my bedside chair. Smartly he pulled off all the bedding and remade it with clean ones.  With great satisfaction, but at exhausting mental cost, I got back into bed.  David wanted me to dress again, but I told him straight, I never wore clothes in bed, having them on before was only because of the sickness and now I considered myself well enough to go back to normal.

 

Although I felt better than before, in reality I was now only conscious. The trip to the shower was totally shattering. David tried to get me to eat something, saying I had had nothing in four days. But the only thing I could take was a little water.

 

The next day the doctor came and he gave me an injection. For another two days I was out of it completely. When I awoke next, my mind appeared to be clear and I felt no trace of fever. However every single muscle ached and joints were un-bendable without pain. My fever had passed but in reality it had left every fibre semi paralysed.

 

Sick of being in bed by now, I thought a hot shower would improve things. The general heat and humidity was getting through to me, so I wanted that fresh clean feeling once more. This time, I was a little easier for David to get into the shower, but was unable to bend or turn, motions necessary to wash. 

 

Under my own steam, I was able to stand under the spray while David soaped me thoroughly. When his hand arrived at my middle section, I expected him to jump down to my legs. I could not remember exactly what he had done before, but I felt that he had not missed anywhere. Seconds later I could confirm that he did not. His hands gently lathered my arse cheeks, then surprise of surprises, he moved between them and underneath. But I was thinking too soon for I know not how, astonishingly I felt his finger penetrate my tunnel up and down four or five times before his hands moved on lower down my body. It was so quick and totally unexpected that he was already inside before I realised. Not only that, but as he finished washing down my back, he came around the front and worked upwards. His face was the picture of concentration to the job in hand, making sure not a millimetre of skin was missed. When he arrived at, shall we say private parts, he washed them all with the same dedication. For a second he looked to my eyes, and his face cracked in a mischievous grin, not missing a beat with his work.  The boy should have been a nurse.

 

At my front I stared at him, naked as I was. Unlike my sick equipment, his dick was half hard. Even so, he was at least an inch longer than I, and mine was not short in that department. It didn’t sit well that the rest of his proportions, like he had been given the appendage of someone with much bigger physical proportions.

 

I pointed to the shampoo bottle and asked him to do my hair. For this I painfully squatted down to make it easier for him.  As he moved from front to back, and then back to front, his dick constantly touched my shoulder. When he was standing directly in front of me, I pushed it back against his leg. For the first time, he loudly cracked out laughing.

 

“Sorry sir, but its always like this. My mom used to always clip me when she saw, called me Rude Boy, but it’s been like that since ever I can remember.

 

“Well never mind, perhaps now you are older you should be thinking it’s a good thing rather than a bad one. But be careful and don’t poke my eye out.”

 

He thought that was hilarious and kept giggling to himself afterwards.

 

Once finished, we made the painful journey back to bed. With a gasp of exhaustion I collapsed into it. I told him that the shower had made me feel much, much better for all the difficulty.

 

He sat on the side of my bed, his hand on my shoulder gently squeezing.

 

“I think soon you will be well again, you are looking much better today”

 

It was a simple enough statement, but I knew he meant more than he could say. I was aware he had not left my side for the past six days and I wished I could let him know just how much I appreciated having him there. The thought of getting sick out here and being on my own, well for sure I would not be alive.

 

“That feels so good” I told him, as his hand gently squeezed my aching shoulder.

 

“You like more? I like to help you if I can” he answered.

 

“If you don’t mind, I ache all over. What you are doing, it feels like you are melting the aches away.”

 

With both hands, he very gently rubbed and massaged my shoulders. He must have gauged the amount of pressure by my groans of enthusiasm or pain.

 

I let him carry on, as my every muscle was hardened as though cramped. His touch seemed to dissolve the paralysis like a magic wand.

 

“Where did you learn to do this” I asked quite amazed.

 

“My grandma and grandpa, since I was little, I had to give them a rub each afternoon or so. My grandma, she taught me this.”

 

“You would have to pay a lot of money for this back in my country”

 

He laughed infectiously, making me feel better by the minute. Like his washing, he left no part untouched. No one had ever laid a hand on places he was doing, except perhaps my girlfriend. But I was not thinking like that, in the circumstances it was medicinal. I felt totally relaxed and somewhat in awe of his expertise.

 

I got better rapidly, although not going back to work for a few days more. I began to eat again, at first a little and then later, ravenously. Each day I stayed out of bed longer and longer, taking some time to lie out on David’s wonderfully kept lawn. Each day he gave me a massage to send away the pains.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

The doctor paid a few more visits and at one of them I remarked about some sore rough patches on my skin. He told me it was due to the sickness and that it would come right again soon, especially if my diet was a good one. In the meantime, some hand lotion would help.

 

I pulled a face at this, but he said, “I can prescribe something that cost ten times as much but in fact will be the same thing. You have a choice”

 

“But lotion? That’s for women!”

 

He got a bit uppity, “Skin is skin and it clothes the male and female bodies without favour. You asked me, I’ve told you. Something like Johnson’s Baby Oil will do the trick nicely if you are worried about it so much, till you fully recover.”

 

I think by his attitude he must have been related to Mary the cook!  I put the Baby Oil down on the provisions list.

 

Soon I was back at work again, thoroughly enjoying be able to be out and about. It was the time of year we had lots of low cloud in the morning, so this made plenty of extra work for me. One of my functions was to check on the health of the tea bushes and soil, so when we had lots of low cloud or persistent rain, I had to walk miles every day checking for leaf mildew and fungus. Having just got over my fever this part came exceptionally hard.

 

David’s massages became a regular thing, something different from the nightly regime I had become used to till now. Not every night, perhaps each second or third one, but I looked forward to them before sleeping.  They would last about one and a half to two hours, by which time I would be virtually asleep. I often asked him if he was tired, to make sure he didn’t go beyond what he wanted to do, but he assured me it was no strain.

 

One evening I was taking a shower when I noticed him in the doorway watching.

 

“What are the two bottles for, why you use both” he asked as I did my hair.

 

“Why, what do you use?”

 

“Soap” he stated.

 

“That white stuff I see them sell in the local shop?”

 

He nodded yes. I had seen this stuff, cut off a big block by the kilo. More like an industrial soap and although I had seen the locals washing clothes with it, I never realised they used it for everything.

 

“Come over here”

 

He walked across the room as I moved out of the shower spray. I ran my hands through his hair. It was like dry straw, little wonder if he was using aggressive industrial cleaner on it.

 

“One bottle is for cleaning, basically, and the other makes your hair shine and keeps it in good condition. Something your hair is not”

 

He brushed through his hair and then through mine.

 

“Yours is soft” he said in wonder.

 

“Yours can be too if you look after it. You want to try?”

 

His face lit up. “Can I?”

 

“Sure, jump in”

 

He pulled off his shirt and shorts, underwear didn’t seem to be part of his wardrobe, and came under the water. I spilled out a dollop of shampoo and told him to rub it in. Immediately he was going to wash it off, but I told him to wait a minute or so first. He was not going to get his into good shape with a quick wash, nor in with just one session either.

 

“You can wash my back while we are waiting” I said joking, but he took it up eagerly.

 

He didn’t stop at my back, but continued his hands going down. I was enjoying so much, I told myself I would stop him in a second, then in a few moments more. I never did.  His hands washed each cheek and then the tops of my legs. He cupped his hand and slid it down my crack. Just like before, suddenly a finger slid inside and gave me a couple of strokes before finishing off my legs.

 

“Time to wash it off yet?” he asked.

 

I pushed him under the water and rinsed his head myself. Then I took the conditioner and began again.

 

“This one takes a bit longer, the longer the better for you” I told him.

 

He handed me the soap and laughed. “Your turn then!”

 

I liked his personality a lot, so bright and quite often with a mischievous glint in his eye.

 

Just as he had done with me, I soaped his shoulders and worked across his back. Although his hair needed a lot of attention, his skin was perfect.  Smooth and hairless. My fingers slid over him like he was clothed in silk. Finally I reached his bum. I was not going to touch him there, but it came to me that if I didn’t he would surmise that he had done something wrong with me. The last thing I wanted to do was to spoil his innocence and make him feel guilty about doing what was obviously the local way.

 

Being from a farming background I was well used to having to help cows when they were calving, shoving an arm in their back end, helping sheep give birth and being pissed and shit on while milking. It was no big deal to wash his bum, but I flinched at sticking my finger up his channel. I ran my soaped-up fingers down his crack and didn’t find his hole. Again I ran them back and forth but he appeared to be completely smooth. I was confused to say the least. But not being experienced in finding anyone else’s except my own could be the cause.

 

I applied a little more pressure and ran them over where I thought it should be, feeling like a fool. Then amazingly under the tip of one finger, a hole suddenly opened and it slipped inside. The first reaction was relief that I had found it, I would have been a real idiot if I had had to ask him where it was!

 

I prodded gently, feeling it open and then close completely. Gently I pushed further. Suddenly it was like my finger had been grabbed by something and was being sucked inside. Incredible!  I pushed more, getting the distinct impression he was grabbing and releasing me as though he had fingers of his own inside. While he had entered me without my knowing it, I on the other hand could feel my progress into him as though it was slow motion.

 

I froze. A cold shiver ran over me making my skin come out in goose bumps. Dianne, my girlfriend, her pussy felt like this, just like this. Hot, tight and with a velvet texture that I never got tired of touching.  Shit, I missed her. We had not been in love, really it was just a convenient relationship in college. Though my one and only relationship.  We got on so well together for the whole three years, yet when college finished we both went our separate ways. She was fantastic in so many ways. Being a student, one of them was sex. While many male friends complained of what they had to go through to get their girlfriends into bed, Dianne had a sexual appetite to equal mine. In private, she was brazen, experimental and loved sex, period. I worshipped her pussy, it never ceased to be a wonderment. So soft and pliable, yet she could make my dick feel like it was being sheathed in a tight glove. Now she had come to mind, I realised how much I yearned for her again. After joining this company, work seemed to take over from relationships and other girlfriends never materialized after Dianne. 

 

I shook off her visions and pulled myself back to the here and now.  David seemed to be pushing himself onto my finger. My stomach churned from the memories that had just flashed across my mind. To finish it, I pushed in fully and then waggled it in and out a few times and continued to finish off with his legs.  Even as I did, the feeling of Dianne’s pussy haunted in the back of my mind. My dick filled out and began to rise.

 

“All done” I said pushing him under the shower head. He turned round running his hands through his hair, perhaps expecting some instant transformation.  He noticed my dick standing and impudently flicked his hand at it.  He laughed, indicating that mine was like his.

 

“Ah, you Rude Boy too” he grinned and flicked a towel at my behind as we dried off.

 

“How is it now?” he asked later. 

 

I ruffled his hair. “Much better, but you will have to stop using your soap. Use my stuff from now on.”

 

“Really?” He exclaimed, delighted. “I can use your shower?” he asked in disbelief.

 

“Yes, no problem”

 

He just about jumped for joy.

 

I had yet to see what the facilities were like for the servants at the end of the house, but my short time here so far didn’t make me think he had anything more than a shoe box to live in. Still, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal but I was pleased to make him so happy.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

Being just the two of us in the house brought us together very quickly. I soon appreciated his company in the evenings and I am sure he did mine.  After I had eaten dinner, he cleared and washed up, then came and joined me in the lounge. We talked a lot, sometimes played cards together, sometimes just sat reading in silence. His presence in the house improved my lifestyle immeasurably. 

 

I had become completely at ease with the massages. They no longer held any connotations beyond what they were.  Many times David would make some movement that felt incredible, but yet laying face down I had no idea what he was actually doing. I used to ask him to do the same thing on my arm so that I could watch. In this way, I learnt something from him and returned the pleasure whenever I washed his back in the shower.

 

When the Baby Oil arrived, I decided I wanted to try it on my bed, knowing by now that I was incredibly sleepy after a massage and I didn’t want to do anything afterwards bar close my eyes.  I sorted some towels out, the biggest I was going to lie on and the rest just in case any oil needed mopping up or whatever.

 

That evening I showed David the bottle and asked him to rub it all over, front as well as back as the rough skin patches were everywhere.

 

“I now this stuff” he said after checking the oil.

 

“Really?” Not thinking it would be anything they used out here.

 

“Well maybe not this exactly, but my mom always used to rub coconut oil all over me. This looks almost the same.”

 

“Coconut oil must be pretty good judging by the skin you have now”

 

I got out of my clothes and then David did the same.

 

“This will get on me as much as you, my shorts will be stained if I keep them on.”

 

I nodded my understanding and laid face down on the bed. He knelt astride, sitting on my bum and began working his hands starting with my shoulders.  Although it was the same massage as always, being with oil gave it a completely different feel altogether. His fingers seemed to go deeper in to the muscles and his hands slid across my back in a continuous smooth un-jarring motion. I was in heaven.

 

His usual way of working was from shoulder to feet and back again around four times, which takes roughly an hour and a half or so. It only took ten minutes for me to feel the heat of his crotch burning into my bum, like his balls were red hot. I began to ponder if mine felt hotter than the rest of my body. Everything with David was a journey of discovery in one way or another, many of them in the most unusual ways.

 

As he edged slowly down my body, his weighty dick trailed down my back. By the time he was sat at the top of my thighs and his dick rested between the cheeks of my arse. The rocking of his body translated into his dick rubbing back and forth a little. Another slight move in position and I could feel the head start to slide down my crack.

 

Sitting on my lower legs, his fingers were teaching me lessons on pleasure as he rubbed and squeezed my arse cheeks. As always, he left nothing undone and paid equal attention to my crack and hole. He didn’t go inside, this was not a washing or cleansing, but being so slippy, I felt his fingers go through the outer ring and probe around. The effect with the oil was almost electric.

 

The last item was feet and toes, itself a wonderful experience. Then the journey back. Already I had started to become drowsy but was soon brought awake. Slowly edging his sitting position back up little by little, his dick pushed straight between my cheeks, centring over my hole. I was sure this was accidentally, he never missed a stroke with his hands. Another half inch change in place and it pressed tight. Already I could feel the heat of its tip burning. My hole opened and closed involuntarily against the pressure and the feel of the tip pushing apart the outer ring.

 

It stayed parked so for a short while, but which felt like hours. It left me nervous in anticipation that it somehow might enter further. In my mind I knew that was impossible. First he was far too big, second nothing had ever been in there except his finger and lastly I did not want anything to go in there.

 

All was just speculation for on his next shift, it was pulled away as he slid higher up.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Sure” he replied, “I like doing this for you”

 

I turned over onto my back.

 

It was not just as good on my front though. Not enough sensitive areas I suppose. That is till he reached my dick. First he cupped my balls in his hand, gently running his fingers over my eggs. Then he oiled my dick. It was soft and limp when he began, but soon stood hard embarrassing the hell out of me.

 

He re-seated himself, his balls directly on top of mine. He pushed down his own dick onto mine and held them both up. Comparing lengths, widths and weights. The heat of his balls seemed to burn, his dick felt soothingly warm by contrast.

 

My size was no embarrassment, I knew I compared well with anyone I had ever seen in a shower room. But David was bigger. Very slightly in width, but about an inch and a half longer. Yet, he was still his usual half hard self.

 

Pleased with his observation he continued down my legs and finished me off. He let out a sigh of tiredness and flopped down beside me.

 

“I told you to stop if it was tiring for you” I told him.

 

“Its okay, only felt it just now”

 

“When was the last time you had your coconut oil?” I asked him.

 

He was silent a while. “Three years back, before my mom went to Mombassa.”

 

“Well tonight is your birthday, move onto the towel and get your coconut oil” I laughed.

 

He giggled and shuffled over as I pulled myself up.

 

I began as he did, trying to remember all those moves that felt so good. The oil must have felt great for him too, as he actually moaned approval as I worked his shoulders and chest sides.

 

My mind began to wonder in the repetitive kneading. Would he be able to feel my dick on his back, were my balls feeling hot to him. The thought kept me amused. But I was not constantly half hard, so I knew I would not be poking him up the butt. Still, I couldn’t resist chuckling.

 

“Why you laughing?” he asked, sounding tired.

 

“Nothing really, just your dick was trying to get into my arse, but I won’t be doing that”

 

He must have thought about it for a while, then began to laugh.

 

“Sorry” he giggled.

 

“Never mind, it was funny anyway. Now shut up and enjoy your treat”

 

I hoped to please, he had worked hard on me and although I knew I was not half as good, at least hoped to repay him for the enjoyment he had given.

 

When I got to do his bum, I admit to spending a little more time on it than I gave to other spots. A firm cheek seemed to fit right into my hand. Never mind me not having been touched in this area, I had never closely examined or touched anyone else either. I liked it though, how the contours flowed smoothly from his back, into the curves of his butt, flattening out to the back of his legs. A work of art.

 

My fingers worked into his crack, up and down. I pushed apart his cheeks for my first good look. His hole was closed. My finger dipped in, easily opening him. I pulled out to watch the hole slowly close again. Like a flower bud. I was intrigued. Playing, I pushed in a finger, feeling the interior heat and his inner door open and close trying to snag me if I entered. Like some fish hiding in the rocks waiting to snatch an unwary victim idly swimming by.

 

Retreating again, the hole slowly closed once more, sealing smooth with the rest of his body.

 

I used to do this with Dianne, play with her pussy for ages and ages. Pushing in one finger, feeling her getting wetter and wetter. Progressing to two, sensing her tense as the pressure increased. Then to three, dipping in and out, tickling the outer edges, making her hot and cause juices to flow, feel her press back onto my fingers trying to get herself off. Working her ceaselessly, till at last she would beg for a fucking to quench the passion that I had started. After fucking, I would return to eat the now gaping pussy, play with the now puffy folds of skin, the hot creamy liquids that trickled out, my own seed. Getting intoxicated from the smell of cum, trying to suck her dry.

 

I pulled out two fingers, the hole was wide open. Automatically I leant down and darted my tongue around, feeling the special texture on the inside. I dipped again, entering a little more, feeling the pressure as it pushed back into my face trying to take away my tongue. My ears heard the moans of pleasure, encouraging me to continue. My fingers prised it apart further to allow my tongue to push in deeper and deeper. I licked my lips then dove back.

 

Like a rising mist, the vision cleared and I pulled back in horror. David was propped on his elbow looking back over his shoulder. The look on his face told me he was frightened. I felt a total fool. I didn’t know what to say or how to explain. Silently I continued oiling his legs.

 

He turned back into the pillow, chin on hands.

 

Finally, “That was incredible”

 

I thought I hadn’t heard properly.

 

“I didn’t show you that one! Never knew about that at all.” He said, the tone in admiration, instead of the anger I might have expected.

 

Trying to brazen it out, I said offhandedly. “Something I used to do with my girlfriend. Just forgot where I was.”

 

There was a silence that seemed to go on for ever. Then he began to giggle.

 

“I hope you forget where you are again” he laughed burying his head into the pillow.

 

When he turned over after finishing his feet, I quickly ran up his front. Not thinking anything in particular, my hands rubbed up from his thighs to the sides of his chest. As I moved on to pull from the sides to the middle of his chest, he said,

 

“Hey, that’s not fair, you missed something”

 

Reaching down, he pushed up his dick from lying prone and let it stand in the air.

 

“Sorry, just got a little bit distracted”

 

As I oiled his eggs, I then noticed his dick was hard. The first time I had seen it so. It looked another inch longer than its half hard state and held itself twitching off his stomach.  I added more oil to my palm and ran it up and down his staff.

 

I had not felt anyone’s hard dick before, even with David when I had brushed over it before it was had been springy and slightly soft. Now it was hard as steel, with a soft outer sheath.  The look on his face was pure pleasure.

 

“How often you give this some exercise” I asked.

 

“You mean –“ he gestured his hand up and down.

 

I laughed, “Yes, we call it wanking, or jack-off or a thousand other things”

 

He thought for a second. “Maybe three or four times a day”

 

“What!” I exclaimed.

 

“Morning, then usually after lunch, maybe in the afternoon and then at night”

 

Shit, no wonder he was always half hard. Then I thought, what was I doing at nineteen. Well I knew when I was eighteen when I got an hour to myself after school before starting work on the farm, when I changed out of school uniform I always did it then, so one. In the mornings, when my elder brother who I shared a double bed with, went to the bathroom, I did it then. Two. At weekends, it was difficult in the house, but with many farm out-buildings, I always had a place to drop my pants in the afternoons. That was three.

 

“I guess I was the same at your age”

 

“And now?” he asked.

 

“Now zero, well once in a blue moon since I came out here. To be honest, since I left college if you want to know”

 

“Why?” he asked not able to understand. “When I want to do it, I do it”

 

“I don’t know, just got out of the habit I suppose”

 

“You sound like an old man, but you are not an old man, you are still young”

 

That stung like an arrow in my heart. He was perfectly correct I knew full well.

 

“I want to do it now. I want us both to do it now” he said shocking the life out of me.

 

“No, I can’t do that”

 

“You not do it, tomorrow I make you a walking stick. Maybe you really are an old man.” He grinned mischievously.

 

I shook my head. It would be impossible with someone else watching.

 

“You lay down, quick, quick, you lay here again” He said leaping up and pushing me back into his place.

 

He knelt astride, sitting on my thighs. Taking hold of my soft dick, he examined it thoroughly. Moving up he put his over mine and stroked them both together. Despite it all happening too quickly, I slowly began to harden.

 

Talking to himself he said under his breath “I want to see you hard, same like me”

 

His hand went up and down, but nothing was happening much to my embarrassment.

 

“I know” he said, suddenly thinking of something.

 

He jumped off and knelt to one side. He took hold of my dick with his right hand, his left cradled my balls then his fingers worked lower till it was pushing into my arse. After half a minute, he stopped and let go of my dick.

 

He reached for my hand and took hold of my fingers. Bringing them to his bum, he said.

 

“You play with me here, I like it and you like it”

 

It was like being discovered with your hand in the cookie jar.  Clever lad this boy!

 

He went back to my dick, while I edged closer to his hole. My finger slipped in, touching that special place. I closed my eyes and thought of Dianne. I got hard.

 

The next thing was thinking my head was about to explode. Opening my eyes, he was bent over my dick, pulling it off in a steady rhythm. The fingers of his other hand were somewhere up my channel, touching a place that had me zinging like I was being electrocuted. All the time winding me up like a clock spring to thoughts of Dianne. Trance like, my fingers had pushed up is channel as far as I could go, playing out one of a million mental scenes I had of her.

 

No embarrassment now, I heaved my hips off the bed. My body began shaking, the leg muscles vibrating like taught instrument strings. One hand jacked me faster, the other pushing more and more inside me. In sympathy, I was trying to get further into him.  Every sensation collided in my head, bringing a gushing torrent of juice pumping out over my chest and stomach.

 

Slowly I relaxed, my hips sank back to the bed, his hand quickly slipped out and he sat up.  Spinning around to face me, he brought my hand back between his legs.

 

“Keep on, my turn now”

 

I played with his balls a moment or two before slipping back inside him. His hand took hold of himself, flashing furiously up and down. I studied his face, his eyes telling me he was as horny as was possible to be.  He smiled, pushing back and forth onto my hand.

 

Within a minute, he cried out shaking and convulsing, his juice splattered heavily on my chest. Shot after shot, he didn’t stop whacking himself for quite a while. Then he slowly wilted and collapsed, falling over my chest.

 

As he lay across me, breath still coming short, I could feel his body continue to spasm and shake. Eventually when he calmed and his body became still I gently pushed him off to one side. Already he seemed to be asleep.

 

Exhausted physically and mentally at this extraordinary day, there was nothing to do except pull the covers over us and go to sleep.

 

Chapter 5

 

My alarm went off at it’s usual ridiculous 5 a.m. Quickly I switched it off.  The early dawn light had already begun to illuminate the bedroom.

 

Suddenly I remembered David, sleeping at my side. The events of last night flooded back to mind, but in some miraculous way I was able to sidestep the whole thing and push it to the back of my mind.

 

I eased back the covers and looked at him. Sleeping peacefully as a baby, lying on his back, one hand across his chest and the other pointing to the window across the bed. The only thing not peaceful was his dick that appeared hard, pointing to his chin, every now and again jumping away from his stomach.

 

He looked wonderful in a way that I couldn’t explain to myself. For the first time since coming to Kenya, I didn’t want to go to work.

 

I stayed gazing at him for a long time, watching his chest rise and fall thinking of nothing but how amazing he was. Breaking the moment, I reached across and feathered my fingers over his chest and stomach. I loved the fineness of his skin and to touch him was a never ending wonder.

 

I began to think of work and that I would already be late. Ever so gently, I began to shake him, wishing all the time he would somehow stay as he was. Then he groaned and licked his lips. Slowly he half opened his eyes for a second. I could see him taking it all in, perhaps the surprise of being in my bed and what happened last night.

 

He groaned again and closed his eyes. He rolled on his side and into me, pushing one leg through mine. His upper arm went over my back pulling us together and his face buried into my chest. I put my arm over his back, playing with the nape of his neck.  Every so often, he would push his body tight into mine and then relax. His hard dick sandwiched between us throbbed and twitched.  I held him for some time, realising that he was asleep once more, cuddled up against me. It felt perfect.

 

Work filled my head again. I had to do something. Gently I pushed him onto his back and slid out of bed. Going to the lounge I rang Fred Simpson and oh so luckily found him still at home.

 

“Look Fred, I’ve been up a few times in the night with diarrhoea and I really don’t want to be far away from a toilet today. Can you let everyone know I won’t be in?”

 

“Been that way myself a few times, you stay home and get well. Drink plenty of water and hopefully you will be over it soon. Don’t worry, the world won’t stop because Mr. Preston has got the shits!” he chuckled.

 

I said my thanks and went back to the bedroom.  What had I done? Taken a day off for what? As yet I didn’t really know, only that I didn’t want to be away from home today.

 

I slid into bed again, disturbing him. As I put my arm onto his chest, he absently held it tight and turned away, bringing me up behind. I spooned up tight and snug against his back, feeling exhilaration at being pressed so close. Soon I joined him in slumber.

 

We were not so tightly pressed when I awoke later. He still slept on though. I pushed my face into the back of his neck, breathing the scent of the shampoo. But I felt fidgety so I unwrapped my arm from his chest and began to slide my hand over his body, feeling the curves of his back and half heartedly massaging him lightly now and again. After his back, I widened the gap between us so that I could run over his firm round bum cheeks.

 

I thought of last night. Watching him whack his big dick was quite an experience for me. Feeling those massive globs of cum splash over me was too. Never mind what I did or felt, just watching him, doing things which so evidently made him happy, was incredible.

 

I dared myself to feel his hole. All over his cleft felt burning hot to my touch. The oil had collected there and I found my fingers moving easily everywhere.  I tried his hole and when he didn’t stir, moved inside him. Why oh why was I getting so obsessed with this hole thing? Was it Dianne I asked myself. But no answer came. I knew there were many sides to this situation but just which was what, I as yet couldn’t make head or tail.

 

Pushing all that aside, I went back to my exploring. It was giving me a hard-on and a tingling somewhere deep in my guts to play with him. One finger went in and out without any hassle, so I just had to use a second. I then remembered I had last night too. A little tighter but I could slide in and out.  He moaned and licked his lips, kind of humping his hips before becoming still again. When he did so, I tried three. It was difficult to get my hand low enough down without moving my whole body to put in three together. More like two and a half! But the tightness and texture felt good, so I continued to play. Still, I knew if I forced all, it would probably wake him up. Instead I settled for putting two up as far as they could go, then move them about inside. It was so much like playing with a pussy that I could hardly believe it.

 

Finally I went too far and disturbed him. His arm reached behind till it came to my hand, then he pulled it up and around to his chest. I settled for hugging and spooned closer like before.

 

The thrill of being with him had me trying to get every last inch of my body touching his. Only after feeling that I had, was I conscious of heat emanating from where I had encountered it before. It was being felt through my dick, now squeezed tight into his bum.

 

It felt so good, sliding through that hot oily cleft. Like Dianne when she sucked me. I rocked my hips and pressed up against him, feeling fantastic. A new game started, pulling apart and then sliding it back. But really slowly, the sensations that came from moving just a fraction were incredible.

 

I don’t know whether he pulled away or I backed off too far, but when I made contact again I was lower down his body or so it seemed. When I pressed forward I didn’t slide. Well not at first. Then I did. Only the intense heat that seemed to flow through the end of my dick brought me out of my daydreams. A few moments elapsed before I realised what I was doing. But by that time my dick felt on fire and my brain seemed to drop from my head and straight into it. I tried pushing more and the heat increased, so I continued bringing corresponding wondrous feelings.  Then it clicked, my fingers, now my dick. I was inside his bum!

 

I stopped dead in my tracks. From playing and exploring to this was suddenly a shock. I made the first move to remove myself when David kind of coughed and then his whole body pressed back into mine. Suddenly I found myself deep inside. The heat and tightness told my mind this was the best thing I had felt since leaving England. Instinctively I pressed against him burying myself fully in the process. The only explanation for what happened next is that nature took over and countermanded any sane thought I had.

 

Slowly at first, I started moving in and out. I moved easily specially when I thought of the tightness of three fingers. Just as slowly a fever started somewhere in my guts or perhaps loins and I took him like I took Dianne.

 

I felt his body wake and his breathing change. My arm flew over his chest to hold him tight.  I felt him begin to move, his hand coming over the top of mine. I was expecting him to push me away but instead he increased the pressure of his hand on mine. I began to feel his bum counter each thrust and so I let go, pounding him crazily as if to make up for my long celibacy.

 

As reward for my abstinence I felt ready to explode after only what seemed like a few minutes. But it had been so long and when the time arrived I heard myself crying out like some deranged patient. I slowed to catch a breath, but felt David squeezing me with those inner fingers. I didn’t go down and the itch had not been satisfied. He never let up milking from within so even before I had come down from my high, I began a second run.

 

I couldn’t remember doing that before, but with the extra lubrication I had just given, it all felt different and a totally a new experience. Everything added up to lust screaming into my brain.

 

A second explosion racked me again but left me collapsing in exhaustion fast. We kept together, both of us breathing hard. He took my hand and touched the bed in front of him, it was slick with his juice although I knew he had not touched his dick. 

 

Once calmed, somehow I didn’t want to move away from him. But this time it was because I couldn’t look him in the eyes. What the fuck had I done? Well I knew what I had done, but me! I had just done THAT with another man! I couldn’t focus it was all so confusing. I didn’t even want to think about it.

 

Finally I pulled away from him and lay on my back. He fell onto his and did what I was afraid of, looked me in the eyes. We searched each other’s faces looking for something, a reason, an answer. That is what I felt and I was positive he must be thinking the same way. 

 

Had I just abused him? But no, he seemed to be enjoying as much as I. Perhaps he thought he could not say no, with me being his boss. But last night, that was his idea. Slowly but surely my mind tied itself in knots. I averted his gaze and just looked down. His body caught the morning sun streaming through the windows, it made him look like a statue cast in gold. His dick was hard, jumping now and again off his stomach. I thought he looked wonderful. How could I tell him that I was sorry for what I had just done. In a sudden flash I got the idea to make him happy in some way, show him that I was not just after satisfying myself. 

 

It was a thing Dianne did to bring me round if we had any kind of disagreement, at least with me it was guaranteed to bring me to her way of thinking. I jumped down the bed and took hold of his dick. He looked shocked, I think I scared him with moving so fast. Without thinking too hard about what I was doing, I put the end of it in my mouth. Now that did make him jump! Before he could stop me, I pushed down, licking my tongue over the head. I felt his hand grab my hair, at first trying to pull me away, but as I got to work I felt his muscles relax and instead his fingers lightly stroked through.

 

Determined to make up for earlier, I worked hard imagining everything thing that would make me feel good and then doing the same for him. Slowly his hips began to arch off the bed, I could see the muscles in his legs begin to vibrate with tension. His dick felt like it was a boiler getting hotter and hotter as it firmed up to a rod of iron.  For myself, it was not such a problem to do this, just shutting my mind at first, then it became interesting as these little changes began to make themselves felt in his dick.  I began to enjoy doing anything I could that would please.  If this was what it took, then I would enjoy it too.

 

Somewhere up behind my head, his breathing got louder, coarse and raspy. Like his hips were pushing into my face trying to get in the other half I couldn’t manage. I let him try, with me doing a fast learning curve on the best way to manage.

 

I could see his toes curl, then his legs pushed out straight and began to shake. The temperature of his dick took a leap and began to throb forcibly. I knew he was near but when it came I was not ready. He lifted off the bed higher than before, sending it to the top of my throat, his hand took a grasp of my hair and then he froze for what seemed like at least a minute. My mouth began to fill up with liquid and amazingly stupid me didn’t realise what was happening. When the taste hit, I was pleasantly surprised and began running it around my mouth. But the liquid continued to flow till it ran unchecked down my throat. Before I could take control, it became too much to contain in my mouth and leaked down my chin.  All this before he began to buck and moan and thrash about. The only thing I could do was swallow, and swallow and swallow again, but I couldn’t keep up with the flow.  As the torrent began to ebb, I pulled off coughing a little on the stuff gone down the wrong way and received the last little eruptions onto my cheek.