A gay story: South African Safari South African Safari
On the Rebound Meets Kruger Ranger
This story is original fiction, although the author did witness the animal interactions that are described–they are only a little exaggerated. The characters and places are otherwise imagined. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. Story told in the first person by Paul Goodfield. © 2023 Brunosden
As soon as the small jet-prop made its landing at the private airstrip and retraced its path to the south end, two open-topped Land Rovers appeared at the edge of the tarmac. Five passengers (including me) exited from the plane as our duffels were unloaded and then carried to the vehicles. Two couples were greeted by one of the rangers; the other approached me, obviously somewhat surprised. “Mr. Goodfield? Where is your traveling partner?”
“It’s Paul, please. It’s really a very short story. We broke up three days ago–the afternoon before we were booked to begin our travels here. You know it usually takes three days–or rather nights–to get here from the States: Miami to London, London to Johannesburg, a night at the airport and then this flight to the edge of the Park. It was too late to cancel or expect refunds. So here I am–alone and still trying to figure out the events of the last few days.”
“I can see you’re upset, and I’m guessing you are a bit tired. I’m Ron Stillwell, your ranger for the week. Let’s see what we can do over the next week to provide you with the enjoyable holiday you planned nevertheless. I’ll try to take your mind off your loss. This experience has been known to change lives. I’m assigned to take you to your villa and get you settled in. Then you can have refreshments if you wish and a nap. The first game drive is planned for later today.”
I hopped into the Land Rover, taking the shotgun seat rather than one of the elevated touring seats. (Curious that I called it shotgun–for there was indeed a gun rack and a gun on the dash as there would always be when we were in the bush.) The drive was British-style–the wheel on the right. This was obviously not a safari adventure park in the States.
This trip had been a gift from my grandparents–a graduation present. I had just finished my MBA at Kellogg-Northwestern in Chicago and was about to join our family’s investment advisory business in Miami, where they had migrated many years ago to escape the Chicago winters. My (ex-?) partner, Billy Morris, had been a childhood friend, our relationship continuing all the way through college. We had lived together in Chicago while he worked after college as a commodities trader and I continued my studies. Then, when I graduated, it came time to move to Miami. Within a few weeks, he realized commodities traders were not elite finance guys in Miami and complained it was probably not going to work for him. Although we talked and tried, a few weeks later and a few days ago, he had flown back to Chicago, leaving me to take this vacation or not–but without him. “I think we are finished as a couple–unless you move back to Chicago and we pick up where we left off.”
We talked as he drove through the bush toward the camp, and I had an opportunity to take in “my” ranger. He was about six foot, my height, blue-eyed, with an outdoor complexion–tanned and a little rosy. He looked like he probably was of Dutch farmer stock–wide-shouldered, flat bellied, with rugby thighs and an ass that easily filled the khaki uniform: a short sleeve safari shirt with epaulets bearing the camp’s logo and khaki shorts. He had on clean white socks and short suede leather hiking boots and a thick leather belt with a knife sheath. His hair was brown, cut short, tips bleached by the sun. I guessed he was about 22 or 23. He was handsome and wholesome. He was also definitely macho and hetero with a baritone voice, large hands, and a take-charge attitude.
The trip had been booked as super-luxe. The air had been business class sleeper seats–two consecutive nights. The villa was in the exclusive “upper-club” of the game preserve at the edge of the Kruger National Park. Most guests shared rangers and Land Rovers with three to five other guests, shared the camp swimming pool, and enjoyed lavish buffet meals. The whole “camp” was luxury–no tents here. But the upper-club was different: each villa (there were eight) had its own dedicated ranger and Land Rover and a private plunge pool with an outdoor shower. Within the compound was the upscale cocktail bar and restaurant, elevated over a popular game watering hole which was illuminated at night.
I guess you’ve realized by now that I am gay. My family and friends all know, and it doesn’t really bother them. At first it was difficult for the family, but I’m not an only child, and grandchildren were already around. Miami is of course one of the most welcoming communities for gays–even if the conservative faux-Christian politicians in the north of the state (who control the legislature) are openly homo-phobic. That attitude just doesn’t make it Miami.
I’m also Jewish. I’ve inherited the Mediterranean swarthy skin, dark eyes and wavy black hair, and drive of my ancestors–who escaped from Bavaria to Chicago at the beginning of the Second War. I’m an intellectual, but a people person. The family is hoping that I might attract some young metro-sexuals for financial advice in addition to using the analytical skills that I’ve honed over the last few years. I’ve done very well at the university and b-school. But, I’m also a gym rat and a fierce handball competitor. I’m 6-1, slim, lightly muscled, and very agile.
I was a legend in high school and the first years of college–an aggressive sexual animal, bedding most of the girls in my classes (at least all of those I considered attractive). I had matured early, was fearless, and I was, of course, cut and hung. I was the classic teenaged predator. So word traveled. I had no trouble dating–and the girls I dated all recognized that I would be inside their cunts before the end of the first date. And that a second date was unlikely. Mostly they wanted the bad boy adventure, the possibility of linking with a sorority of my exes–and to lose their virginity to a wrapped hung pro. More than once, I was punished by a jock for screwing his girl. She was usually worth it. And it didn’t change my conduct.
That was until senior year of college. During the summer before, Billy and I had gone camping in the Indiana dunes–a real rustic camping in a tent. Billy was a star half-back, a chick-magnet, much bigger than I–he was about my height, but outweighed me by 40 to 50 lbs. He was muscled, powerful and macho-aggressive. Our childhood friendship had survived college and, maybe, his envy of my sexual record which he often teased me about. I think he was jealous–he was bigger in every way, but never had the sexual opportunities that I had. After only a day of celibacy in the dunes, sitting under the front awning of the tent, Billy pulled it out and starting jerking. I was no prude. I didn’t need permission or an invitation. We were roommates. So I knew he was enormously endowed–and that he jerked a lot, often when he thought I was sleeping. I followed his lead.
The next day, he moved into my space and we helped each other. That was the trigger. He forced me into his lap. I sucked and coddled his nice big balls. His cum was tasty. By the third day, Billy had initiated me into the pleasures of man on man sex. With only the slightest encouragement, he had pushed me onto my belly, pulled me up on my knees, prepped me and stuck his lubed bareback cock into my ass. It hurt at first, but I learned to take pleasure from it. That wasn’t the last time. During that trip, he fucked me over and over again. He was a power top and more or less forced me to become his bottom. It didn’t take much coaxing. I had admired his physique for years. He had an enormous cock, much larger than mine, with a girth and corona that filled me and crowded my prostate. And he had an aggressive physical presence which always overwhelmed me. I was hooked. (Later I learned that this was described as a sub or a bottom behavior, but by then it didn’t make much difference.) He fucked me hard, showed me my prostate, and stroked me off while intoxicating me with his stroking. At night, after he fucked me hard, our sleeping bags were zipped together, and he spooned me into his gut, positioning his dick in my crack and my semi into his fist as we slept. Most nights and even some days, I was sore and dripping his cum. But I wanted more.
I soon forgot the coeds. We became inseparable–as friends and in bed ever since. I went from being a hetero predator to a confirmed bottom/sub in only three days! And that situation had persisted for almost three years. Each year I became more dependent on him, or at least his physical attention. He lapped it up, took charge and used me at will. He was the man, getting more aggressive and possessive every week. His language during sex began to reflect the profanity of a seasoned Merc trader. And I was his willing bitch. Then when we moved to Miami, the bubble had burst.
As we reached the villa–a white stucco building with a thatched roof on a bluff overlooking the river, Ron grabbed my duffel and escorted me to the door. It contained a large suite, with a giant king bed facing sliding doors and the game reserve in the distance. An enormous jetted tub was placed in an alcove, also overlooking the park. Beyond the doors were a cantilevered deck with a plunge pool and an outdoor shower. The villas had all been sited to provide maximum privacy–to create the illusion that we were alone in the bush with a ringside seat for the action. And it was designed to be the love nest that honeymooners expected.
He pointed to a tray covered in white linen with drinks, sandwiches, fruit and pastries. “Help yourself. Dinner won’t be for about four or five hours from now. We’re scheduled to do a drive before then.”
He then explained the routine–but was quick to note that in these villas, the guests were free to change anything. Assuming I was game (He laughed at his own joke; “I sure hope you are not the game.”), there would be early morning continental breakfast just after dawn, then a game drive followed by brunch and a siesta (or an escorted walk in the bush if I were up to it), then another drive just before sundown, followed by cocktails and dinner. Early to bed. Early to rise. “Just let me know your pleasure.”
“Mr. Goodfield….ah Paul, there is one more thing before I leave you to relax. I was chosen as the ranger for you and Mr. Morris because I’m gay. I’m pretty sure I’m the only gay ranger at this camp and probably any of the nearby camps. Gays don’t seem to be much drawn to animal reserve management and safari guiding. Management thought you might be more comfortable if you had me for the week. I’m available for anything you want.”
I didn’t say anything, but I immediately began to think–I am definitely going to have Ron for the week. He was going to be my consolation prize, my rebound partner. He was definitely a hunk, a nice clean, innocent farm boy. Hopefully, he was sufficiently endowed to make it worth the effort. I smiled, “Oh I think you’ll do.” He seemed to understand.
“I’ll be back at four to take you to the Rover. We park them over there in the motor court, just outside the fenced compound. Please don’t walk outside the fence surrounding your villa or outside the villa after dark without an armed escort. Just call if you want anything. I’ll come immediately.” His expression seemed to carry a lot of hidden meaning.
“Before you leave, a few questions.” Then I paused. “Or maybe, we can leave that for later. I’m not very tired–I spent last night at a hotel at the airport in Joburg. Why don’t you come by at three–unless you just want to stay now. We can talk now or then.”
“I’ve got a little paperwork in the office now that you have arrived. I also need to let them know that we have a single in this villa. I think that they’ll make some adjustment–at least in the charge for the bar and restaurant. I’ll be back around three.”
He knew exactly where I was going. I was accustomed to getting what–or whom–I wanted–at least until Billy had turned my world upside dow–so that I actually craved what he was doing to me. As he left, I unpacked–it only took a few minutes to set out several sets of casual clothes, some sweat shirts and a sweater–as the resort included daily complimentary laundry. I sat before the feast that had been set out and grazed as I stared out the windows at the bush which stretched far into the distance. I sat on the leather sofa and stared. The early afternoon light was mesmerizing. I may have dozed for a few minutes. I woke, pulled on a tee and poured myself into a Speedo that had been Billy’s favorite, probably because it was old and allowed my smooth booty to hang out. I headed for the plunge pool.
I got outside, showered in the reed enclosed cubicle as requested, and then realized that I had total privacy. The Speedo hit the deck with a wet slap and I climbed into the cool water. So much for Billy. Then it was to the chaise where I immediately fell asleep. Jet lag had caught me after all.
About an hour later, I was shocked awake by the loud squeak of the slider opening. Ron had let himself into the villa and was standing over my outstretched naked body. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in or disturb you. I’ll return later.”
“No stay. I’m awake now.” I motioned to the matching chaise. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“I have a confession. I’ve been watching you through the slider for a few minutes. You’ve got a nice bod–and anicer dick. I guess you were having pleasant dreams. You chubbed and went rigid while I watched. Very nice show.”
I could have reacted with sarcasm, but I didn’t want to spoil things. “Yeah. The dream was about you.”
He was dressed as he had been earlier when he brought me to the villa. “Well, let me give you something concrete to dream about.” He sat on the chaise, pulled off his boots and socks, removed the heavy leather belt; he unbuttoned and removed his shirt. He had hard slab pecs, big brown aureoles, and an eight pac. Wow! Then he stretched out. I could tell he was chubbing.
“Those shorts look tight. It’s okay to take them off.” He slipped them off, revealing tight camo-printed briefs that hid nothing. (Oh, the irony of camo briefs that don’t hide anything; they showcase the treasures inside!) He did have the desired equipment. I licked my lips. As I did so, he pulled the briefs down and his 8 incher popped up and out. He had a semi, resting on two egg-sized balls. I sat up to get a better view. He had two sets of tan lines: from the shorts and camp shirt and from a small bikini. (I wonder where he suns in just a bikini?) His dick was dark, thick and a full hood covered the head, tapering almost to a point, but he was shaved and the skin surrounding the monster was lily white. Presumably so was his ass. Then it hit me. This guy was Matt Damon’s younger brother!
I looked into his eyes. “Are you okay with this?”
“I’m not sure what ‘this’ is. I’m waiting for your lead–the guest is always right.”
“Well you start. I want the short bio–and your most liberal interpretation of what a ranger can do with a guest. I don’t want to get you in any more trouble than necessary.”
“I’m pretty sure your life is much more exciting. I’m from just outside Durban. I was raised on my family’s large ranch. I’m an only child, but my step-dad has children by a previous marriage–all older than me, married and starting out their own families. I actually own the ranch. It had been my Dad’s when he died. He left it to me, but Mom had the right to live on the ranch for her life. It’s been more or less my responsibility for the last few years. I have a degree in animal reserve management and a safari guide certification–all from Durban University. I’m 24, and I’ve never been outside South Africa. I’ve been here at the camp for two years–the first year in the main camp, the second year here. In a few more months, I will need to decide whether to do graduate work, take over my dad’s ranch, or stay here with more management responsibilities.”
“I love the bush. I like being outdoors. I love animals in their natural habitat. And I like most people.”
“How about your relationships?”
“I’ve known I was gay for a few years–but I’ve done little to prove it. A few hooks at university. No relationships. In fact, no action at all, except solo, for the past couple of years. There is not much chance to go clubbing out here and my breaks are only a few weeks long. Durban is not gay friendly–in fact, that is generally true of South Africa. All of our guests are families or hetero couples, often honeymooning. A few female guests have come on to me, but I explained that camp rules prevent fraternization.”
“Is that so?”
“Not really. So long as a guest asks, I’m on my own. But, I don’t owe anyone that kind of service. They know I’m gay, but it’s not common knowledge among the rangers. I might get beat up otherwise.”
“Well I’m asking. Join me in the pool.” We got up and both of us climbed into the water. We talked for a few more minutes, with arms outstretched on the rim, gazing out into the park. Periodically, our bodies would float to the surface. Both of us were chubbing. Ron approached and hugged me. He was very strong and held me tightly. I could feel his big dick resting on my gut. It slipped under my balls as we shared our first kiss–it was long and hard, and he was hungry, I could tell. I squeezed his cock with my thighs and backed away pulling his dick with me. He seemed to like that. His hands reached down to my ass and massaged. He easily boosted me to the rim and planted my ass on the edge. My dick pointed right at him–and the moisture that dripped from the head was not pool water. He executed a knee bend which brought his head to my crotch. His tongue came out and he licked the shaft, took me inside and began to suck while his tongue played with the glans and the slit. He was just teasing.
He released my cock for a second, lifted and pushed me back onto the deck. His head was now in my crotch. His hands went immediately under my ass as he stood in the water. He spread me and his tongue reached down to bathe my balls and my taint. Then he surprised me. I had been accustomed to Billy’s foreplay–a bit of mouth on my shaft or lubed fingers in my ass, then straight to the anal penetration he preferred. I was expecting Ron to push himself up and impale me. But no. He lifted a little higher and I rested my thighs on his shoulders. Again his tongue came out and he began to rim my hole and eat me. We hadn’t yet talked top/bottom–so he was going to start by giving me a special blow. His mouth moved back to the shaft which by now was leaking. He licked up the shaft, smiled and took me deep again. Then his index finger penetrated, and he jabbed my nut. It was just too much.
“I’m cumming, Ron.” That was all the warning I could give him. I started pumping immediately as he continued to milk me. He swallowed again and again, but finally pulled off retaining some of the spunk in his cheeks. One last jack landed on his lips. He pushed up from the pool and covered me. He was big and strong and heavy–just the kind of stud I needed at that moment. Then he shared my cum. I thought he was about to enter me, probably hard, but he didn’t. He slipped back down into the pool and smiled. He had passed the first test.
“That was pretty damned good. But, it’s time for our first game drive. Let’s get dressed.”
“But you didn’t get off.”
“You’re the guest. I can wait. But, I think these shorts are going to be really uncomfortable for a while. The Rover is waiting for us in the motor court. Let’s go find some animals.”
We dressed and headed to the Rover. As I hopped in, his radio buzzed. “There is a pride of lions just on the other side of the river. A herd of buffalo are on their way for a late afternoon bath and drink. This could get interesting very fast.” He took off on the dirt road headed for the bridge. We bounced along as he maneuvered the jeep around hairpin turns, rough dirt roads, and even went overland a few times to cut our arrival time. He shouted, “Camp rules are that only three Rovers with guests can be at a sighting at one time. Otherwise the animals might be spooked–or guests might not get the best photos they were expecting. Currently there are only two. I’m guessing they may be there for some time as the herd is large and this pride hasn’t had a decent kill in a few days.”
Soon we saw a Rover ahead and Ron radioed. We were on time. We pulled up at the edge of a down-sloping clearing and stopped. It was dead silent. Ron went to whispers as his eyes scanned the savanna. He pointed and we could see the vanguard of the pride–three mature female hunters and the alpha male. The rest must have been waiting at the nearby kopje. They were downwind and partially obscured by the straw. Ron pointed left and coming over the hill in a cloud of dust were the first of the giant male Cape buffaloes, leading the herd to the water, their curled horns held high. The formation was tight and huge, with pregnant females and young in the center. The herd probably anticipated lions–their only real predators–were near, but hadn’t yet detected them.
Within minutes we were treated to an incredible spectacle. Hundreds of these enormous beasts marched into the river, drank and began what looked like a combination of a Saturday night bath and a giant water battle in a community pool. The time in the water lasted for perhaps 15 minutes. Snorts, bellows, plunges, sprays of water, youngsters collapsing into the knee-deep water. They were having a great old time. Then, suddenly as though a whistle had been blown or a bell rung, they all turned toward the land and began to retrace their steps to the upper open field where they would likely spend the night.
As the last few emerged from the river–two females with several very young, slower calves, rushed to catch up. One of the young stumbled and the mother turned to help it back on its feet. At that second, there was a great roar and four lions–the three females and the male emerged from the tall grass and jumped–three on the mother, one on the baby. She bucked hard and quickly threw them off her back before they could bite to gain a killing position or attack traction. Then she charged the lone female whose mouth had clamped on her baby’s neck. She gouged hard with her horns, picked the lioness into the air and threw it off her baby. She landed hard, but turned. The lions were regrouping to attack again. But, now the male leaders of the herd which had realized the danger, turned and began to charge the lions with heads low and horns outstretched. It was hopeless. These giant buffaloes were the true apex animals of the jungle. The lions knew they were defeated and backed off. They would need to find another meal–perhaps later when it was darker, perhaps from this very herd.
“Wow. I can’t believe we witnessed that only a half hour into my first drive. That was incredibly exciting. You get to see this every day? My adrenaline is pumping still.” (In fact, it was pumping right into my dick.)
“Not quite. I must admit an encounter like this one occurs perhaps every week to ten days–at least while we are witnesses. Usually, we see the results, hours later, when the pride is sated and sleepy with the bloody carcass. Let’s see what else is in store tonight.”
We began to drive up the hill and around the herd. We spotted a herd (would you believe a “neck”?) of giraffes, then zebras and impalas. Ron remarked that the impalas were the appetizers for most of the Kruger predators–there were thousands, but not enough to sustain a successful pride. The foliage began to close in and the road narrowed as we moved deeper into the park.
Ron slammed on the breaks. “Oh, my god. Look” In front of us, perhaps 50 feet along the road, facing each other were two juvenile rhinos–a male and a female. “I think they’re on a date. I don’t see Mommy or Daddy anywhere around.” The two had frozen on the road, staring into each other’s eyes–totally blocking our passage. So Ron turned off the ignition. “Let’s see what happens. I think this is going to be fun.” He reached over, placed his arm around my shoulder and drew me to his side. His other hand rested on my thigh.
The male pawed the ground with his enormous front pads, snorted, shook his giant head and coughed. At first she didn’t seem to understand or maybe she didn’t know how to react. Can female rhinos be coy? Then, after another few minutes and a repeat performance by the male, she turned and he began the difficult task of smelling her estrus without gouging her with his already big single horn. (I somewhat jokingly thought that I was in a club in Miami watching the close-dancing guys feeling each other out by reaching down into jeans to test size and hardness.) Apparently, he was satisfied. We witnessed an incredible feat–he raised himself on his back legs–probably about 2000 lbs of himself and certainly not gym-conditioned. He not so gently gripped her hips with his front legs. He was mounting her! His enormous cock dropped in front of his grapefruit-size balls and engorged. It was at least two feet long and the color contrasted his overall grayness–it was pink and red. It was moist and dripping. He tried to insert with a huge bellow, couldn’t seem to find the right place, failed, and tumbled to his side, the giant cock waving in the hot late-afternoon breeze. He quickly repositioned and tried again–with the same result. We were roaring with laughter–and hard as rocks in our shorts. Ron moved in and took my lips in his. His taste was sweet. We were in a big game porn studio, making out in the spectator seats!
“I think they’re virgins. I can’t think of anything more ludicrous than two giant rhino virgins trying to get it on for the first time. They’ve probably watched Mom and Dad–but, unfortunately, we haven’t equipped the bush with internet porn–as they have some of the breeding zoos. So there’s a lot of trial and error.”
It was funny. But it was also an incredible turn-on. What bottom wouldn’t start drooling over a big fat two foot cock, dripping with lube or pre-cum? I reached over and fisted Ron’s dick in his shorts. I could see the spot of precum that my squeeze produced. He looked over. His mouth opened. I knew I had him.
The rhinos tried a total of four times without success. Then she had had enough. She was going to find a more experienced male. She was off through the bush. He looked back at us–his eyes and giant horn seeming to threaten. We were responsible for his failure. How dare we invade his privacy? He pawed and dipped his head and the horn, threatening us with his really enormous cock and horn. Frankly, I wasn’t quite ready for either. Ron started the engine–we might need to backtrack at a moment’s notice. But no, he was just bluffing. He turned, retracted his cock, and was soon also deep into the bush.
Ron looked over with a leer. I could tell he was just as hard as I was. “It’s time for our sundowners. Let me find a safe spot.” He drove a few miles and pulled into a clearing where he had 360 sight-lines with just a few close-by clumps of small trees. “I’ll set up the bar. You can use the rest room over there if you need it,” pointing to the space on the other side of the nearby clump. “What’s your pleasure?”
“I’m not sure. I’m so hard. I don’t think I can pull that off right now. I’ve heard of something called a bush-fuck. Is that what it’s called? Are you up for it?”
He pointed to the enormous bulge in his shorts. “I think I can do better than that incompetent rhino!” He put the ice chest down on the rear platform he had set up and stepped up to me. His hands moved behind my head and as they ruffled through my curly hair, he pulled me into a deep kiss. I opened and his tongue invaded. We remained in that position for a few minutes, reveling in each other’s mouths, our hands roving over our necks and backs. Then his hands dropped and he unbuckled and dropped his shorts, revealing again his camo boxer briefs that were now stretched beyond specification. He moved to my waist and with two hands, pulled shorts and briefs below my knees. Without another word, he stepped back and threw one of the safari blankets over the front curved wheel guard and pointed me onto it, belly down. It was perfect positioning. I stepped out of the shorts, walked the few steps to the bumper, reached up and grabbed the edge, pulling myself into a perfect bottom-bend, forcing my ass into the African pre-evening. He finished removing his shorts as he gazed at my perfectly positioned ass.
“Don’t move a muscle.” He walked around to the Rover, opened the dash compartment and withdrew a large tube of lube. “Do you want me to wrap?”
“I’m clean. We’ve been exclusive for more than two years and we get tested regularly.” I looked up and got my first good look at Ron, full frontal and completely nude–save the leather boots. Except for arms and legs, he was very light skinned, thin hipped, with a muscular gut, and a thick dark pole–maybe 8 inches or more with a nice curve pointing at his navel. His angry red cockhead was hooded, but it had drawn back into a nice thick corona. And remarkably he was groomed. When he saw me scoping him in hunger, he spread his arms and legs and wagged his dick in my direction. I was his.
“I’m guessing you like what you see. Well, I’ve been a hermit for nearly a year and testing is part of the application for this job given the prevalence of HIV in South Africa,” he added as he stroked himself to rigid hardness.
He stepped behind me. I could feel his strong rugby thighs pushing mine apart, exposing my treasure cave to him. He massaged, carefully placing fingers in my deep hip indentations. Then I felt the cool lube. Then his trigger finger probing and opening. He might be deprived–but he wasn’t a novice. He touched the love nut and I shuddered in pleasure, allowing a deep moan to escape from my lips. He stroked it, then petted it, then squeezed it into the taint. I nearly gave it up at that moment. He was edging to the limit me by stroking the prostate.
When he felt I was sufficiently open, he very cleverly aimed his cock and placed it at my entrance. He reached up, placed his strong hands on my shoulders, and pulled me down over the curve of the bumper into his erection. He was in. He had slid all the way easily and bottomed, using my gravity to accomplish this feat. He stopped and froze. Surely he had to have done this before. It was just so perfect. I was stretching to accommodate his size, and then I started to massage him with my anal muscles. His passivity was over; he was now in charge. I heard and felt his feelings of possessing another male–after a long time of deprivation. His hands roamed under my chest and teased my nipples. Then they continued down so that he could “arrange” my equipment for comfort. Both pulled me deeper into his chest and gut. “This is so good. Let me savor this moment. I love your ass. I love the way you fit so tightly around my cock. I love owning another guy’s pussy. You’ve got an incredibly nice body.” Then he surprised me with his last comment. “You’ll get your chance at me later, I promise, but this one is mine.”
He began to pump while simultaneously moving me up and down on the curved bumper by sliding the blanket. Faster and deeper. “I’m cumming Paul. I’m going to fill your man-cunt. I’ve been saving for a long time.” His chest fell to my back as his hips pounded into my ass aiming his long stiff one at my prostate. Then, I felt the spasms and his hot jism exploding into my gut. He stayed in position for several minutes, holding his seed inside with his giant plug, until his tension began to relax. He pulled out and I began to leak. He flipped me, placed my thighs on his shoulders, and took me into his mouth. I was still rock hard and dripping pre-cum. He sucked hard, tongued the sensitive back of my shaft, squeezed my balls, tasted the precum, and milked me dry into his waiting mouth. He was as good a cock-sucker as he had just been a fucker.
“Now that’s a South African sundowner.”
“Let’s have our drinks. Then we can drive around a bit. I hear from the radio there is a mother leopard with a cub nearby–and this is hyena territory. That’s always good for a thrill.” We dressed and hopped back into the Rover. We drove for almost an hour, spotting the lion pride regrouping downwind at the edge of the buffalo herd. “They’ll probably do nothing for hours. They want the herd to settle down.” We didn’t find the leopard, but we did spot the pack of hyenas–a half dozen, loping along the road with their weird gait. Soon it was dark and we were back at the camp. “Cocktails in about a half hour, followed by dinner. I’m going to be your bartender and then your waiter–but at this camp, after serving, the waiter gets to sit with the guests and dine with them. Don’t leave the villa without an escort. I’ll be back in a half hour, if that works for you.”
“And, I’m expecting you in this bed tonight. Is that possible?”
“Yeah, but after dinner I’ll have to escort you home, then check in at the dorm. After that, I can revisit. You’re sure that is what you want?”
“I do want. Perfect. Can you spend the night?”
“Unfortunately, I’ll have to check out the Rover and my gun in the morning before I place the wake up call. So I’ll need to leave early, very early. I’ll try not to wake you. Our morning drive starts around 8 with the continental before.”
Ron returned about a half hour later and we walked to the bar/restaurant. He was dressed as before, but had changed into long khaki slacks. Ron served a drink, set out some apps, and sat down beside me to watch the flood-lit lawns sloping down to the river, sipping on what appeared to be soda water. Dinner was served, again by Ron, and again Ron joined at the table. It was great, I’m sure, but I was so distracted by my companion that I hardly noticed. I was escorted back to the villa, and he went back to check out and sign out for the day.
Minutes later he knocked lightly on the villa door. I opened carefully–I was wearing only a tee–and pulled Ron in. I told him to strip and hop into the king that was piled with pillows and duvets.
“I think our African adventure has gotten off to an unusual, but certainly nice start. You’ve blown me twice–once at the edge of the pool, once on the fender of your Rover and screwed me in the bush. Now I want to see how you handle a real bed!”
Ron jumped onto the bed, bounced a few times, and pulled me with him into a tight spoon. “First, I need to show you some Boer lovin’. His hands went to work immediately. He started with my pecs, massaging them like I had a girl’s soft tits, palming them, squeezing them, feeling the firmness. Thumb and finger began to worry my nipples, pulling them into hard little erections. I gasped in pleasure. The hands drifted lower, traced the valleys of my six-pac, and brushed through my wiry pubes en route to my shaft. He fisted it with both hands and swirled them counter to each other, forcing it longer so that only the head was exposed. I leaked precum. I was beginning to realize this was a very different experience from the time with Billy–when he did what he wanted, when he wanted, expecting me to enjoy the ride. With Billy foreplay was a necessary prelude to his taking what he wanted. (Another idea flashed: hadn’t I been Billy with my girl conquests? Giving them aroused. Then taking what I wanted.) Ron was carefully bringing me to a peak of arousal. It was all about me–or maybe us, but it wasn’t about him only.
His fingers captured my viscous fluid and began to rub it into the head. I recoiled from the sensitivity–and of course rammed my ass right into his rigid erection. Ron ringed the base of the shaft and pulled down hard on the balls, trying to calm me down. He wanted this to last. As though that were possible with a hunk like him holding me hard into his muscled gut with his hard erection in my crack! He stopped, pushed back into the pillow mass and pulled me into his open thighs. Then his thick strong arms surrounded my torso and planted his hands under my balls, fondling them as his palms kept pressure on my taint. It was incredible! No one had ever been so involved in my feelings, my pleasure. “Now that I have you where I want you, I want to hear about it–all about it. Was Billy crazy? How could he possibly leave someone like you?”
“Billy was the only guy that’s ever had me. Until him, I thought I was some kind of gift to the feminine half of the world. I was an adventurer and a taker. I never dreamed I was bi–or gay.”
“He brought me out, took me, and then took possession of my body and my soul. I was completely under his power for three years. He was a great lover, big-dicked, insatiable, totally filling me–not just with his dick, but also with his personality. I didn’t think I needed anything more. Certainly, I hadn’t experienced anything else. He had baptized me with his cum; I was born again to be his sub. We had three good years. He let me study, but he made it clear that my studies took second place to him.”
“Then, when we moved to Miami, he changed almost overnight. He became jealous–when I never gave him any reason to be. He became despondent–probably because he was having trouble finding a job, and mine was all lined up with the family firm. Our friends were all my family friends–or new attractive Miami Beach stars. I asked if he wanted to work in the firm and he exploded.”
“He shouted, ‘I don’t need your help. I was one of the big dicks in the Chicago Merc.’ Soon, he started having difficulty getting it up. He was only 24 for Christ’s sake! And when he couldn’t perform, he started to be abusive. It was always my fault. We had a huge argument two days before we were due to leave for Africa–one of those nights when he couldn’t get hard enough to do me. The next day he was packing. And that was the end of the story.”
“Wow. Does that mean you’ve never topped?”
“I’ve never needed it. Except of course for girls. Then I always topped. Billy was good to me. He was all I needed. Now, of course, I’m alone and wondering about the future.”
“Well, I’ve got some news for you. It doesn’t seem like he was really sure enough of himself to go the long haul with you. He should have let you take charge from time to time. I love to top, and your ass is certainly calling me home. But, that is not who I am. My ideal bottom has got to be really masculine–like you. And I’d sure like to get fucked once in a while. I know I’ve got a sensitive nut, but fingers and toys just don’t do it for me. I want you to top me. Tonight? Or maybe tomorrow night? You name it.”
“You’ve got me hard enough. But, I’ve never done it. You’re going to have to teach me, be patient with me.”
“I’ve never heard more welcome words.” And so Ron pushed me out of his lap, flipped onto his belly in my bed, pushed one of the bolsters under his gut and spread wide. “Let’s see what you’ve got, boy and what you can do with it.”
I looked down at the man in my bed. He was magnificent. Those enormous shoulders tapered to a thin waist. And that big white ass was mounded before me. He spread his legs and I knelt between them. I spread him carefully. His hole was bright pink and hairless–and it was quivering. And it was all being offered to me. I couldn’t help myself. I bent over and touched it with my tongue. His globes rose to meet me. So I circled the rim, blowing on the moisture that I had deposited. He shivered. So I did it again. And again. I reached for the lube and using the tip shot some inside. I could hear his giant intake of breath. Then I lubed a few fingers and began to play. Inserting to a knuckle, then two. Then two fingers, swirling, scissoring, petting. There it was, the hard nut that is the center of male pleasure. I touched it carefully. I heard a yes. “Do it!” I stroked the hard surface, curled and strafed the entire length. His breath was getting very rough. So I pinched it into my thumb on his taint. His ass rose from the pillow. He definitely wanted more–and from me. So I added a third and lubed again. How would I ever fit in there?
I pulled his ass up from the pillow and aimed my cockhead. I pressed, using my thighs, while I massaged his lower back and reached under to grab his shaft. It popped in. I heard a groan. “Did that hurt?”
“Oh no pal. That was a groan of pleasure. Keep up the pressure.”
I did and my cockhead came into contact with the prostate. I slid along the surface. He hissed and pushed his ass back into my gut. He wanted me, all of me, now. So I slammed. My balls bounced on his ass and my head hit bottom. I bent over, lowering my chest to his back, as my hips began to drive the push-pull of intercourse. It was something I had done countless times with girls. My body and cock “muscle memory” were very much revived. I reached under and grabbed his cock firmly and started to ride. It was mine. He was mine. That ass was mine. I was going to bring him off with a giant anal orgasm as I spunked. That had always been my goal with female partners. I could feel the boiling semen in his balls and the rigidity of his cock. He was almost there. I rolled the hood down with a thumb and placed my index finger firmly on the sensitive head. Then I squeezed his balls. I was pushing it out and up. I felt the vesicles filling, then the cocked gun. His abs drew hard in. He was barely breathing. He was in a pleasure heaven, ready to erupt.
And we both exploded simultaneously. I caught his cum and smeared it around his genitals. I realized my thighs and legs had shot down in tension with my orgasm. Every muscle was stiff. I was balanced on his cheeks, maintaining a constant connection. I had pounded with everything I had and now I was buried deep and hard in a beautiful ass.
My god, I was good. My god, he was good.
I relaxed onto his back and sucked his neck, just below his ear. I was going to leave a mark. He moaned in pleasure. Finally, I rolled off as my shrinking dick slipped out. But, I wasn’t done. I needed to taste the cream that I had pushed from him. I sat up, flipped him over, and buried my face into his crotch. My tongue came out and I licked him over and over as he too shrunk. He pulled our chests together, my crotch to his face and we lay together, licking and smelling the essence that we had given each other. Maybe it was the best sex that I’ve ever had–certainly it was the most sensuous–every sense–smell, taste, sight, touch–was engaged. And then he added the last, as I heard: “That was a terrific experience. I’m already up for more.”
Later that night, we flipped and he took me–missionary style. It was just as good as I had expected. He wasn’t gentle. But he was in control, but for him control meant that he was orchestrating a perfectly paired set of orgasms, bringing me with him to paradise. Late in the taking, he whispered, “I love to take someone who has taken me. It’s as it should be.”
The next days passed quickly. We did the twice daily game drives. Of course, we saw the Big Five–sometimes every day. One day we tracked a large pack of wild dogs. The young pups seemed playfully cute with their huge Mickey Mouse ears, but Ron warned, “Those are wild animals. Try to touch or cuddle one and you’re likely to lose a few fingers.”
Another morning we came upon two leopards mating. It took them nearly an hour–as she seduced him by rubbing her cunt into his nose to arouse him; then the mounted and she took his dick and cum. But it happened over and over again. (Ron explained that male leopards have low sperm counts, and by some miracle, the females know this, and require the repeated mating to achieve results. Another factoid shocked me: male leopards have a barb on their cock head–so once in, the barb is activated and they remain in for a long time. She can’t pull away until he lets her.)
Needless to say our “break” after that drive was pretty intense.
And then there were the magnificent elephants–hundreds of them with lots of evidence that, with reasonable protection from ivory poachers, young were being born, nurtured and cared for. The herds were flourishing. Massive pieces of animal flesh, capable of dominating the jungle, but restrained and peaceful. They were powerful–and showed anger when they or their young were threatened–but never used that power to dominate. With eyes that showed emotion and memories that transcended time. We can learn much from them.
Throughout all, I was amazed that despite the unrelenting predation that was the law of the jungle, these creatures were not angry or warlike. Rather, they did what they needed to do to survive–and otherwise left the others and their environment for another day.
We got off twice more in the bush. I loved the risk–and apparently so did he. He let me take him on the bumper. That was another trip! Hooray for gently curved and ultra wide wheel guards! I loved taking his muscular white ass from behind as he lay prostrate and helpless, whimpering on his Rover’s bumper. (I even got a nice selfie of that one.)
And once I rode him on the picnic blanket while a “Go-Away” bird screamed at us from the branches overhead. (Maybe we were threatening her nest–or corrupting her chicks with porn.) But mating in the tall dry grass among such obviously fertile animals lent a special poignancy to that coupling. I rode hard before collapsing on his chest and taking his mouth in mine while my cum glued us together.
We had meals together, and he slept in my bed every night, escaping early to check in and ready our next adventure. He napped together in the afternoons. We took turns spooning, fucking and blowing. I couldn’t keep my hands from his body. His cock was in my fist, my mouth, my ass all the time. And mine was in his! I was on a sexual high and my confidence returned to where it had been in my early college days. I could have anyone. I could give myself to anyone. I could take anyone–always confident that my personality and techniques were equal to any challenge. But, I wasn’t returning to the predator mentality (a pendulum swing from being a sub to a gay predator?). I was instead maturing into a person capable of relationship, maybe even needing it.
It was the last day. Typically, there would be a morning game drive, then lunch, before the final trip to the tarmac for the return flight. After the continental breakfast, I told him that I’d had enough game–but not quite enough games. So we returned to the villa and posted the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the handle. It was the best morning of my life.
We knew it was a farewell. We knew that we’d probably never see each other again–although I had certainly invited Ron to visit Miami–offering to host him in my new condo. So we needed to give and take everything we could during this last morning together.
We cuddled under the duvet as the ceiling fan cooled the morning air. I was in his arms. His lips were on mine and our tongues were playing tag. There was no question that love was on those pillows. We held each other for a long time as we absorbed the feelings and tried to imprint the memories of each other’s body. We wanted to crawl inside each other and forget the world.
Finally, he rolled me onto my back and knelt between my legs. He bent over and started a long tongue bath. He swiped my neck, bathed my pecs, took my nipples in his teeth and lightly bit. My chest heaved off the bed with pleasure. His strong hand pushed me down as his tongue continued its southward journey, teasing my navel, and finally reaching the rigidly erect shaft. He took it inside and sucked hard as his hands cupped my balls and fondled them with his warm fingers. I was already at the edge and leaking. “You’re going to make me crazy. Are you trying to institutionalize me so I can’t leave? Put him in. Now!”
Ron carefully pulled my legs up, and I grabbed behind my knees and rolled back. He assumed the push up position, replaced my hands with his strong arms, and slowly lowered and penetrated. I felt him bottom as his lips reached mine. Then he began the strong hip-driven stroking that his rugby muscles had perfected. Each time he scraped my nut, I climbed the pleasure ladder still higher. I would remember this one for a long time. He pumped forever as I dreamed of paradise. Then, I felt his hot explosion. This time I knew he was breeding me–not like some infertile leopard, but like the giant-cocked rhino that we had witnessed. He spasmed over and over–and took me with him. I covered our chests in creamy cum. I could feel his seed permeating my gut. He released my legs and I wrapped them around his waist, holding him close, plugging his seed deep inside. His head dropped into my shoulder hollow and his lips touched my nipple. And we rested as our breathing slowed at last.
“I wish I had a barb like that leopard. You’d never leave me or my bed.”
An hour or so later, he insisted that our last time together had to be me inside him. He too wanted a souvenir of our week together. I was hard. I was loving. I was considerate. And maybe for the first time in several years, I was whole–ready to take on the challenges and opportunities of my new life in Miami. I followed his lead. I did take him–but I didn’t take anything from him–I gave him myself. And when we were done, we smiled into each other’s eyes. “Until next time, love.”
Ron had shown me the glories, the realities and the comedy of the African bush. And he had shown me the possibilities of love-making between men who were considerate and committed to giving as well as taking pleasure from a partner. He taught me that my time before Billy had been all about taking my pleasure from conquests. And that my time with Billy had been all about being the conquest victim. Neither was likely to result in a long term relationship or happiness. Ron’s study of the animal kingdom, where animal actions could be interpreted without the overlay of civilization, had given him profound insight into the psyche of a gay man. Instead of just being happy with the pleasures we gave each other, we were always overlaying feelings of guilt or inadequacy (where we wanted to be punished) or feelings of dominance (where we had to demonstrate superiority and control).
Maybe someday we’ll meet again in Miami. His path in the animal kingdom or possibly as a big rancher and mine in the financial world would be unlikely to cross. But, I’ll always remember this week. I’d never go back to Billy. And it changed me forever. Maybe, next year? I had a little more growing to do. Ron promised to visit before the year was out. BD