African Encounter
by Jingjok
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WARNING: The following material contains depictions of explicit sexual activity. If the laws of your jurisdiction do not permit you to view such material, please leave here at once and go to where you can learn how to work to change the laws of your jurisdiction. If you are offended by such material, please seek psychiatric counseling to discuss why you are here in the first place.
On the other hand, if you simply don't care for the type of material indicated by the story codes, well, have a nice day.
gay, encounter, historical, interracial mm anal
DISCLAIMER: The following is entirely a work of fiction. All of the parts in this drama are portrayed by mature actors who are masters of makeup and disguise.
HEALTH WARNING: This story is set in a time when the dangers to one's health were different than in the present. Readers are encouraged to always protect themselves against disease.
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"Nkele," my father had instructed me, "run two days toward the rising sun, and then circle to your left. Return at once if you see the grass eaters."
It was early in the season, and there was little hope for success. That had led me to track this single beast, on the chance that it would lead me to its herd.
I had followed for hours the strange, fresh track of an unknown animal. Its droppings were like the zebra's, but its prints were very odd, as if the animal had pieces of wood on its hooves. The trail was not easy to read on the hard packed dirt of the plain. The prints led me, in an almost straight line, toward a distant peak, barely visible through the shimmering air.
My legs were strong, and I ran tirelessly behind my prey. But the hot, still air sucked moisture from my body, leaving my naked, black skin as dry as the bare, scorched earth. I had stopped from time to time to stab the sharp point of my antelope horn spear tip into the dusty grey pod of a talobi plant. Standing on the shadeless plain, I could quench my need from its moisture.
The zebra-like beast could not do the same, and I thought that it might collapse of thirst before reaching its goal. I doubted it could endure the long trek to the lake that lay at the foot of that peak. If it died, I could slice into its flesh and remove the hind quarter and carry it back to my mother. I could drink long from the creature's blood to sustain myself for the journey.
Then I could run forth again and survey the land in the path of the unfortunate animal. I would have to take great care, as the people who lived near the lake were fiercely protective of their fishing grounds. But until the sun set, the beast and I would remain far from that danger.
Ahead, between the peak and myself, I saw a speck grow in the distance. As I ran closer, I could see it was a solitary tokasi tree. I dropped to a crouch as I approached. Near the tree, I could make out the shape of an animal standing on four legs.
I checked the wind, and circled to make sure it would not betray my advance. Low to the ground, I slowly loped to the tree. As I had hoped, a creature similar to, but somewhat smaller than a zebra, stood in its patchy shade. The strange beast, whose like I had never seen, had no white markings on its hair, which was as black as my skin.
A movement near the base of the tree sent me scuttling noiselessly to the cover of a small ndube bush. I looked in astonishment at the figure who lay flat on the ground, resting upon a pad of some material more finely woven than the grass mats of my home. I thought at first that it might be someone like myself, whose skin had been cruelly flayed by some enemy or predator, leaving only the pale fat over his bones.
When I looked again, I saw that it was a young man, perhaps a year or so younger than I. His smooth, nearly hairless skin was light, almost the color of milk. Above his face grew long strands of hair, the color of fire, that fell past his ears to touch the earth. A nest of flame-hued curls sprouted from his middle. There, his pale hand was stroking a man-stick the color of an akoba flower.
My own flesh firmed at the sight, and I grasped myself, unconsciously matching the movement of the white youth. I had long been aware that my desires were different from the other young men of my tribe. It was our custom to play together when we were young. It was a time when the older boys used the younger to relieve the passion of our throbbing shafts.
But while the other young men had left such interests behind them, when they found their partner among the girls who danced with us in the spring, I still found excitement in the curve of a younger boy's bottom, and the sight of the tender bud that rested within. Stranger yet, I had never lost my boyish interest in the man-sticks of my peers.
I had performed my obligation to increase my father's clan. I had lain with the girl Alea and spurted my man-juice inside her. In the morning, we had danced together to honor the stork spirit, so that she would bring a baby to grow within Alea's belly. Now my girl was fat, and our child would soon come out.
Unlike my brothers, however, my desire for my own kind had never lessened. Undiminished, yet unsatisfied, my unseemly urge burned hidden within me. The younger boys would think me sunstruck if I approached them, after having taken a girl from the dance. And my shame would be unbounded if I ever revealed my longing for the man-stick of an older youth.
I could only dream, when opportunity let me take solitary pleasure. When Alea became ready for me again, I would faithfully repeat my unwanted duty.
The milk-skinned young man had not detected my presence. I saw him roll away from me, until he lay upon his belly, his head resting on his folded arms. The firm, round globes of his bottom began to clench and relax, as he rubbed his man-stick against the mat beneath him.
I could not restrain myself. As stealthily as a stalking kala, I left the ndube bush and crept silently forward. Carefully, I picked my way over lines of little nbitis scurrying in two directions on the business of their clan. A grey toloko scuttled away, and I froze, certain the pale youth would turn to see what had alarmed it. But he kept to his effort, heedless of danger, foolishly secure in his supposed isolation.
Without a sound, I lay my spear upon the ground and knelt on the dirt at the edge of his mat. My hard man-stick throbbed in rhythm with the humping movement of the youth's pale bottom. Slowly, drawn by an attraction I could not resist, I moved my hand forward.
When my fingertips brushed the soft skin of his pale globe, his whole body leapt upward from the mat. He twisted to face me, throwing his arms protectively in front of his face. His eyes, brightly colored like the sky, were filled with fright.
I raised my hands before me, displaying my empty palms. I knew that our lives hung in the balance. Surely he had a weapon, probably in the pile of sand-colored material that lay beside his mat. If he moved to take it up, I would grasp my spear, and the slower of us would die.
Our eyes locked, and we peered into each other's minds. I kept very still, never moving, holding his gaze. His mouth twitched, and then his face relaxed. From the corner of my eye, I saw his hand reach toward my middle, and felt him clutch my still hard man-stick.
I took a deep breath. My mouth cracked into a smile, and he returned it. I lowered one hand and rested it on his mat, and dropped carefully to lie beside him. My left hand reached out and stroked his softened flesh, feeling the firmness return.
I stretched my right arm under and between us, and grasped his man-stick and rubbed the soft skin that covered its hard core. My left hand moved to caress the smooth curve of his bottom. I panted with desire, hoping he would welcome the joining of our bodies. He gripped my shaft, moving my protective skin over the sensitive crown.
I moved my hand from his bottom to his shoulder, and pressed it in a way that I hoped would reassure him. Then I squeezed his man-stick and released it, and pressed his shoulder again. I could see the confusion in his eyes. I rubbed his shoulder, never taking my gaze from his eyes.
Then I backed away from him, and lifted myself to what I hoped was a non-threatening squat. I had noticed a dry stalk of keteba grass about a body length from the mat. I moved to it quickly and broke off the single seed and hurried back to his side.
I set the seed on the mat between us and moved my hand to caress his bottom. He smiled, and stroked his fingers through the valley between my globes. I picked up the seed again, and cracked it between my thumb and finger. When he saw the oil run into my hand, his smile grew.
I was the elder, and it was my right to enter him. But I feared I might never again have a chance to feel a man fill me with his shaft, and my choice was easy. I tossed the empty husk away, and smeared my slippery palm along his man-stick. Then I pushed the remaining oil into my opening, and lay upon my back on the soft mat.
He crawled between my thighs, and I lifted my legs and pulled my knees toward my shoulders to open myself to his invasion. Our eyes held each other, as he rubbed the head of his stick around my opening. I squirmed against him, sucking the head of his rod into my hole.
I expected to feel pain when he stretched me, but my desire was so strong that I urged him forward with my feet, and he slid in smoothly and steadily, until I felt his groin against my eggs. Then he began to pump his shaft within me, thrilling me like no boy of my tribe had ever done. I smeared my oily hand over my belly, and felt the head of my shaft rub against it as the pale youth filled my hole.
His sky eyes looked into mine, and I wondered if he found my appearance as strange as I found his. I knew that our differences mattered little. We had become a single panting, sweat drenched being with two backs, bound together in the middle by his plunging man-stick.
I felt him dig faster and deeper into me, and watched his expression become more intense. A tingle in my groin signalled the approach of my own release. The pale young man cried aloud as his body stiffened, and I felt his shaft throb inside me. My own man-juice splashed onto our bellies. When he finished, he fell onto my body, and we held each other close.
After a while, his limp man-stick slipped from my hole, and he rolled off me and away. He rose to stand beside the mat, and we looked at our sticky bellies. Silently, we exchanged a vow to wear my tribute until the wind would blow away the last flakes. I squatted, resting my bottom on my heels, and watched him prepare himself.
He began to lift pieces of material and wrap them around his skin. I felt sorry that he had to protect himself from the warmth of the sun, but I realized that his flesh would soon cook to the color of his bright hair if it were exposed. He covered his loins, and then his legs.
Sitting on the mat, he wrapped his feet in soft covers, and then pulled on pieces of animal hide, which he tied with cords. Then he rose and covered his arms and back, and fastened it in the front. He reached for a belt and closed it around his waist. A smooth, skin covered pouch hung heavily over his hip. I thought it might hold his weapon, but decided it was too small.
He squatted and tugged at the edge of the mat. I scrambled off to the side, and helped him perform a ritual folding of the material. Then he laid the mat over the back of the beast. From the ground, he raised an object that appeared to be a kind of seat made from polished animal hide. After setting it over the blanket, he tied it under the creature's belly with straps of the same material.
He lifted a skin covered bag from the side of the beast, and removed a plug from a hole in the top. When he raised it to his lips, I watched clear water flow into his mouth. He handed the bag to me, and I let the cool liquid wash down my throat. Then he picked up an object from the ground and filled it with water and offered it to the beast, who gulped it down. When he fastened the water sack onto the animal, I knew he was ready to depart.
He turned toward me, and we faced each other. He moved closer and reached to hold my man-stick lightly in his hand. My flesh stretched and firmed, and I could see in his eyes that he wanted to join our bodies together again. But he released me, and flung his arms around my shoulders. I cried out in pain, as the feel of his hands on my skin seared my soul.
I reached behind him and clutched the material that covered his back. He pulled us together, and I felt a panic that I would never touch him again. I scrabbled my fingers at the bottom of his upper covering, until my hands found their way under and up, and pressed against the smooth warmth of his skin.
We held each other close, and I felt his heart beating next to my own. Our cheeks rested together, and his warm breath caressed my ear. I wished we could stay forever, but some sense of duty made him pull away.
My hands fell from his back, and he grasped them in his own. We looked again into each other's eyes. I could see the longing in his, the sorrow he felt for our parting, and I knew he could read the same feeling in mine.
After a time, he released me, and turned toward his animal. He lifted his foot, and by a step suspended from the device he had fastened to the creature, he raised himself and flung a leg over its back. He picked a piece of material from a horn in front of his middle, and placed it on his head, covering his flaming hair. When water dripped down his face, I saw that it was the vessel in which he had offered water to the beast.
Then he lifted a cord that led to the creature's mouth, and kicked the animal's flank. The beast moved forward, carrying the young man away. He turned around toward me and moved his hand from side to side. I emulated his gesture, and watched him ride away. Man and animal blurred into one, as he moved toward the distant peak. When they were only a faraway speck, I left the tokasi tree and picked up my spear.
I began to run toward the home of my father. Though the memory of my meeting with the strange young man would always remain in my heart, I knew I could not share it with my people. I would tell them simply that is was too early for the grazing animals, and my father would accept the news, and send me forth on a new search in a few days.
As I ran, I pictured again the pale body of my recent companion. My fingers felt the smoothness of his skin. I smelled his breath, and heard the beat of his heart once more. I paused and circled, dancing and singing a song to honor the kala spirit, hoping she would guide me someday to find the pale man again. But I realized my wish was futile, and I went on my way toward home.
Still, I knew those recollections would sustain me when I lay with Alea, and the stork spirit would bring us many sons to increase my father's clan.
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The end.