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FredThePhotoEd

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  • Birthday 07/04/1965

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  1. The sixth day of my erotic African adventure. First I’m toyed with. Then . . . who knows how they were conceived? Miss T does. And we learn her family secrets. (Here you’ll find the earlier parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5) So I had come from a tough Canadian winter to sunny South Africa, visiting my photographer friend Hanz. It was one adventure after another. I thought today would be a quiet day, but it was anything but; and it ended with an amazing family story. MY AFRICAN ADVENTURE – PART 6 – WEDNESDAY – I’M TOYED WITH AND WE LEARN HOW T WAS CONCEIVED Wednesday began like my other days vacationing in Cape Town with an old friend and a new lover. And then it went in all directions. I slept in, as usual, and was woken by my new lover, Anna, all sweaty and brisk from her top-of-the-morning bike ride. But instead of kissing me awake while wearing her biking outfit, she had stripped off and laid her sweat soaked body on top of mine. It was weird to feel all that hot sweaty flesh pressed against me, but it was also exciting and we did a quick morning dance then washed up and joined Hanz and his lover T for breakfast – wondering what the consequences of the very strange night before would be. The mysterious androgynous of last evening Asians, who had been glued to Hanz and T the night before, were gone, with no sign of their even having been there. (I hope I didn’t hallucinate what I wrote about that.) This morning things were as if nothing odd had happened the night before. This was one of the strange and inexplicable things about my week in Africa. Each morning was a new morning, each day was a fresh day where whatever happened before was put aside leaving no marks on the day that followed. It was hallucinogenic that however weird or exotic the previous day’s events were, the next day it was as if nothing unusual had taken place. But T was not her usual spunky self and both she and Hanz seemed more than a little hung over. But there was no mention of yesterday or any of the strange events of the night. Anna and I never learned what the story was with the Asians, why they immediately stuck themselves like glue to Hanz and T or why our friends stuck to them. We didn’t even learn what genders were involved, perhaps the strangest thing of all. Totally weird, totally mysterious. And totally not spoken of. Of course we had hoped for some bizarre tales about the Asian couple that Hanz and T brought home, but that was not to be. At the least we thought we might hear some stories of Hanz and T having played in the past with the young couple who threw the cocktail party we attended, when they announced their incipient parenthood. Maybe even some thoughts about being able to play again with the couple, now that the wife was safely pregnant – how exciting could that be? And then there was that play club that was happy to take our money and let us in, and yet made us feel unwelcome enough for us to quickly leave. How wrong was that? But no. There was not a word about yesterday evening, an evening and a night filled with odd things that seemed to demand being talked about. Somehow a taboo, a curtain of silence was drawn over then evening and Anna and I both quickly picked up the signal to mention nothing, ask nothing, hint nothing about the night before. And so Anna and I did the right thing and acted like nothing had been odd at all. Over breakfast Hanz told us that he needed to spend some time in his photo studio, but he’d be back before too long. Anna expressed some relief saying she was worried about the law office she managed (she said “those poor helpless lawyers; you never know what they’ll get up to if I’m away for too long”) and said she’d take the opportunity to pop into her office for a couple of hours. That would leave T and I by ourselves and she suggested taking me on a walking tour of the neighborhood of Oranjezicht, seeing the sights, circling the water reservoir (called, for some reason, the Kaffir Swimming Pool) and into a shopping area where I got a couple of presents for Anna. After our walking tour, back at Hanz’s house, she and I chilled by the pool, naked of course, and laying side by side. Now you know that from the moment I first laid eyes on her I had been lusting for the nubile T. Almost as soon as I arrived she’d hinted that sex with her might be in the cards, but only after we’d gotten to know each other better. Could that be now? Maybe yes, since we were alone; maybe no, since Hanz wasn’t there to give his blessing. And maybe yes or no if T did or didn’t desire me. Those thoughts alone honestly had me excited. Not that I needed to get laid, with Anna being such a terrific sexual companion. Still the passing thought of making it with T had given me more than just a little buzz in the tip of my dick. I enjoyed the view of her. The beautiful face. The curve of her lips. The soft small hemispheres of her breasts. The smooth, clear skin. The tight belly. The waxed-clean love triangle. And the pussy lips that were the gateway to ecstasy. What a sight. We lay on lounges and T, as usual, was dipping a finger in her honey pot and from time to time licking the juices off her fingers. Just as she had been doing during any idle moment when clothes weren’t in the way. Then she reached over and smeared some of her juice on my lips. Without delay, I was noticeably erect. At this point T stopped just toying with herself and began to masturbate seriously. Knowing that she needed to get off several times a day I knew to expect it. But still it’s surprising to have a lovely girl start masturbating right in front of you. And something else when it’s someone you’d like to get it on with. After fingering herself for a while she took a butt plug from a bag under the lounge, lubricated it with her juices and slide it into her ass and asked me if I would like one. I declined. Then she went from casually fingering herself to slowly but seriously masturbating herself. I lay still and enjoyed watching and listening. When she came it was delightful to behold and the spectacle got me more erect. Seeing her vigorously masturbating herself got me totally into tent-pole territory. In a way it was a little embarrassing to have such a bold erection pointing to the sky beside this lovely girl who was ignoring me and it, so I had turned over on my side to make my erection less boldly evident and also to have a better view of T while she worked herself to a vigorous and noisy climax. After she finished, with a moist slick hand she reached over and started casually playing with me. I was still fully erect. She just worked her fingers this way and that way, enjoying the feeling of my dick. She had long slim fingers which looked so elegant. Just glancing at those fingers felt erotic to me. And now those fingers were slipping up and down on my penis. Just the tips, just the pads of her fingers. It was so much sexier than if she had wrapped her fingers and hand around me. No. The faint, subtle, slight feeling of the pads of her fingers moving from one end of me to the other, that was about as erotic as it could get. I lay back and enjoyed the feeling, without expecting to go anywhere. I was saving my spunk for Anna’s return. But she gradually got me excited, took me up to the top and over. I was spurting! Then she licked her fingers and said in a soft but commanding voice “Now you lick me.” It was fun witnessing her masturbating; it was fun being fingered by her; and it was more than fun coming from her fingering me. And it would be much more than fun putting my head between her legs and licking her, but I knew she was playing me, I knew I was being had. She wanted me to do her with my tongue but she wasn’t going to let me fuck her, and the jacking she had just given me was a way to avoid my uncontrollably slipping myself into her. Yes I was being used and abused and I could resent that, but on the other hand I’d had a nice -- no not just nice, ecstatic – orgasm myself, so what was there to complain about? At least now I would be tasting the juices that I had been smelling on my Anna’s breath, and that would be a thrill. While I was getting up off my couch to position myself for giving her head, she slipped a butt plug into me, matching the one she’d put in herself. First she’d jacked me, then she’d put this butt plug into me. Frankly it felt good, but I knew it was a second line of defense against my making a move to fuck her. She’d jacked my juices out and with that butt plug pressing against my prostate, she was guaranteeing that even if I slide my dick into her, I wouldn’t be able to come. What a wicked girl. So I went to licking her with some enthusiasm and I’m proud to say that I didn’t just give T some enjoyment, I was able to give her enough intense orgasms that she finally whispered to me that she was fine, she’d had enough, she was satisfied, saturated, satiated. To accomplish that with a girl who seems inexhaustible filled me with some special pride. It’s always been a point of honor for me to give good satisfaction to everyone I have sex with and now I’d held up my honor with Miss T. The seemingly inexhaustible Miss T, I had managed to exhaust with the skills of my tongue. She and I sunned again for a while, butt plugs still in place, and then Hanz and my Anna came back. With separate errands for each of them to do, I hadn’t realized that they’d left together and now returned together. And they had a certain glow about them. I was about to confess what T and I had been up to when Anna just boldly reported that she and Hanz had a good fuck in his studio. With pictures to show, no less. Well, Hanz is a photographer, isn’t he? I hugged Anna and said good for you, while T excitedly embraced Hanz and whispered to him to tell her all about it. That’s when Anna discovered the plug in my ass, smelled T’s juices on my breath and she knew my morning with T hadn’t been totally innocent. Somehow it all felt OK to me and I wasn’t upset that Hanz and my Anna had finally had a nice screw together even though I was still being cock-blocked from having Miss T. Anna had been fucking me like crazy, she’d been fucking T was well, and now she’d completed the round with Hanz. Anna, you go girl. You’re the best. Knowing that Anna had been fucked filled me with lust for her and she and I repaired to our bedroom for me to put my spunk in her, displacing Hanz’s. She had enjoyed fucking Hanz but she was very glad to have me do her on top of that. After that was done we four made a lunch and after lunch sat in the living room, hugging and kissing and fingering our partners while watching the video that Hanz had made of Anna and him doing it doggy style in his studio. The expression on her face in the video when she came was really wonderful. Truth is, we all loved watching the lovemaking in the video and watching it made me hot. I’m proud of her that Anna wasn’t in the least bit embarrassed by the video. She watched it with as much enjoyment as the rest of us. It was time now for them to show me the sights of the city, as they had been long promising. We drove in to the Victoria and Albert Harbor and walked around, sight seeing the boats and the tourists. Then we walked up a market street filled with shopping kiosks. They led me to a store where you could buy tribal artifacts that were more authentic than the usual tourist junk. I bought a few souvenirs to take home and we continued on our way. The girls ducked into a tailor shop where they said they’d ordered something special to show us later. We went to Woolworths Cavendish where I bought a couple of gifts for Anna and then we hiked up to the legendary Mount Nelson Hotel to have drinks and dinner. Over drinks we did something we should have done days before, telling each other our life stories. Mine was about growing up on a remote farm in Manitoba, an only child who did lots of chores and became very independent. Anna had a surprisingly similar story of a rural childhood in South Africa, complete with cattle. That explained a lot about our immediate affinity for each other: we’d essentially had the same childhood. She and I grabbed each other’s fingers like a cow’s teats and showed off our milking prowess. I’m proud of how good I was at milking and Anna showed me she was just as good. Hanz grew up urban in a typical Afrikaner household, meaning the values were old-fashioned farmer’s values and his artistic ambitions weren’t encouraged. He went his own way and became the successful photographer he was, getting assignments as far away as, gasp, Canada, which is how he and I had met. It was now about time to go in to the restaurant for dinner and T said “Over dinner I’ll tell you the story of my parents and my siblings and me. We are a very unusual family and we’re exceptionally proud of what we are, which is like no other. It’s good I’m telling you the story here, because it’s a special place for me. I was conceived in this hotel.” That was a show stopper. When we’d ordered our food, and Hanz had selected a good South African wine, T began telling her story. She began by saying “If I’m going to tell you my family story and if you’re going to really understand it, first you’ve got to know that we Africans aren’t like you Europeans. You Europeans are such prudes.” Her Xhosa parents – who I’ll call Mr and Mrs T -- had grown up in neighboring villages but only met while they were in college, training to be high school teachers. They fell in love quickly and soon married. Theirs was an open marriage; they had a lot of sex with each other and a lot of fun with other people. As T said, that was quite African; they weren’t prudes and they didn’t act like they owned each other’s bodies. What they owned was their love and their commitment to each other. They liked to swap stories of their outside adventures, it added spice to their own sex life. They wanted children, but children never came. It turned out that Mr T was sterile. So they made a decision: they would have children, sired by other men, and Mr T would be delighted to be a proud and happy father. Grateful, as a man who turned out to be infertile, that he would have children to raise and call his own. “You might think that’s very liberal or generous of my father, but it’s really very African. That’s the way we are and proud of it. I’m very proud of my dad and proud to be African. Sorry if I sound smug about it, but we’re better than you in that way.” Anna gave me a smile that said she very much agreed and was sorry for the likes of Hanz and I to have grown up in a narrow minded way. The way T said that put a new cast on things. I’d always taken T as the pretty young thing who happened to be Hanz’s live-in girlfriend. Now, from the way she spoke, not only from what she said but also the way she said it, she was probably the brightest and wisest person in the room. This arrangement – of having Mr & Mrs T’s children sired by other men -- wasn’t hidden from T and her siblings, just the opposite. It was a point of honor and pride among the family. And their relatives applauded them for it. For their first child, Mr and Mrs T selected a man she’s already been having fun with but now she skipped the birth control. The man was never allowed to know about his role in the T’s first child and the child, T’s oldest sister, was never given a hint who he was. There was a strong family principle: Mr T was the children’s father, he raised them, and that was that. Mr & Mrs T were ever so delighted to have their first child and they intended to have more. When it came time to have another child, the game continued. Though they’d deliberately chosen the sire of their first child, mostly they let the children come when they came, and who cares who the sperm donor was? Mrs T played with healthy vital men and when it was time to get pregnant she made sure to only play with men who the family would never know later and who were from a variety of backgrounds. They’d decided that each of their children would be from a different mix. “It was easy,” T said. “My mother is very attractive and she’s like honey to the bees. She can have any man she wants. She’s very attractive and she likes sex a lot. And of course my father had his fun too,” she said, “since theirs is an open marriage. Only he doesn’t have to worry about getting some other woman pregnant.” T continued, “Although I don’t know it for sure, I think sometimes she chose a specific man to get pregnant with and sometimes she would let nature take it’s course from whoever she happened to be sleeping with. When my parents decided it was time for another child and she was at her fertile time, she would sleep around with men who were worthy of her, worthy to sire one of my brothers and sisters.” But still, she played fertility roulette, never knowing which orgasm would lead to her next child. She only made sure that each new child was sired by a man from some different background. With one exception: the siring of T herself. For reasons never explained, they decided to be very particular about who sired the fourth child, who would turn out to be T. He would uniquely be from the same tribal background as they were, Xhosa. (T said “I’m Xhosa through and through and very proud of it. My brothers and sisters and I feel very united as a family, but I’m special in one way: I’m completely Xhosa.”) The parents-to-be set out to carefully chose the stud for the child that would become T. He had to be very smart, very healthy, and very accomplished. They picked their man, a leading academic who had gone into politics and became powerful and rich. (At this point T said “likely I could figure out who he was, but I never want to do that. It would be wrong and it would betray my parents and my brothers and sisters.”) Mrs T set out to seduce the man and seduce him she did. For her it was easy. Knowing when she would be fertile, she arranged to have a sexy weekend with him “here; at this hotel. At the great and legendary Mount Nelson Hotel.” She and the man had a classic dirty weekend. They never left the hotel suite but spent the entire time eating room service, drinking, sleeping, drinking more and having sex, sex, sex. For the important man it was a dream getaway from his mundane responsibilities and boring home sex life. For Mrs T it was capturing just the right kind of sperm for her next child, which turned out to be the delightful, talented, beautiful and sexy miss T. Although Mrs T never had a romance with her casual lovers, it wasn’t unusual for them to fall in love with her. “My mother is exceptionally attractive, vivacious, and outgoing. What man wouldn’t want to fall in love with her?” As it happened, the “important man” did and wanted to continue and have her for his mistress. That could have been sticky, but as it happened the “important man” died not long after in a traffic accident, never even learning that Mrs T was pregnant. This quirk of fate put to rest possible complications. And so that was T’s story. Her younger brothers and sisters were sired in the family’s traditional way – with lovers from different places who Mrs T fancied playing with. But T, T was conceived purposely in the very hotel where we were dining. In telling this story T practically glowed with pride about her unique family and her own special heritage. After dinner we slipped upstairs to the hotel’s rooms, following T until she stopped at a particular door. “Here it is,” she said, “here is where I was conceived, in this room.” I said “you have remarkable parents.” She said “you can see for yourself; they’re coming to visit tomorrow.” I was floored to hear that. With that, I end the tale of the sixth day of my African adventure.
  2. The fifth day (Part 4 here) of my erotic African adventure. Three unexpected parties, one where I’m welcome, one where I’m not welcome, and one where I’m, well, you name it. So I had come from a tough Canadian winter to sunny South Africa, visiting my photographer friend Hanz. It was one adventure after another. Then, finally, settling into a quiet day which ended with a triple bang. MY AFRICAN ADVENTURE – PART 5 – TUESDAY – THREE UNEXPECTED PARTIES Tuesday began in a quiet and conventional way and the four of us had a lazy morning and afternoon. After the previous two days’ athletic outings, we spend a calm day at home. Nothing special in the erotic department either. Anna kept me happy and the combined efforts of Hanz and Anna kept T happy. Happy, happy, happy. Actually, I think T was in a new kind of heaven, nobody seemed to be noticing it. Or maybe it was one of those things that everybody knew but nobody would admit to: T was getting it like never before. She was used to getting enough to keep her happy from her man Hanz. At least three big times a day and some treats in between. But now she also had my Anna. (I say “my” Anna, and Anna was quite loyal to me, but the reality was that Anna was T’s lover as much as she was mine. Maybe nobody was acknowledging that because nobody wanted to upset the apple cart. Hanz had T and T had Hanz. I had Anna and Anna had me. The extra-curricular sex between Anna and T was off the books, under the table, not reported to tax authorities, strictly grey market. All in plain sight.) T certainly had my Anna. Just to tabulate it up: Anytime during the day that Hanz came inside T, Anna would be there to lap her clean. And any time either of them felt the urge, they would girl-fuck. And then most nights Anna would tip toe from my bed into Hanz and T’s and come back to me with T-scented pussy breath. Not that anybody objected to this. We all seemed to be in favor of it. But it was so odd: the biggest sexual relationship going on in this household was between Anna and T, while everybody was pretending that it was just an amusing side dish, while the girls’ main dish was us boys. All good for the short term; and the short term was all I would be there for. And I gotta say, I was coming to enjoy the scent of T’s pussy on Anna’s breath. What a household! Two eager men and two frisky and bisexual women. A certain kind of heaven. Tuesday itself, morning and afternoon were nothing special to report but as the evening approached things got more interesting. Hanz and T mentioned that some lifestyle friends of theirs were having a cocktail party that evening on some special occasion what ever it was, and we figured we’d go and enjoy it. It was far from clear whether this was a play party or a vanilla cocktail party, so we dressed on the mild side, with changes to the wild side if that turned out to be needed. We certainly didn’t want to go with clubware and turn out to have the hosts’ parents or whatever there being shocked with our bad taste. The girls wore the middle layer of the white lace ensemble that they showed off to us on Sunday. It was sexy and showed off some skin – actually more skin than you might show for an ordinary cocktail party – but safe enough for who-knows-who-will-be-there cocktails, as long at the vicar wasn’t coming. Hanz and I dressed similarly. We got to the private home and cocktails were in full swing. There were lots of people there and the crowd was thoroughly mixed, contrary to my expectation. I gather that in Capetown socializing is birds-of-a-feather and I expected our mixed foursome would be a sore thumb, but it wasn’t the case. My sixth sense told me that there were swingers aboard but my eye also told me that plenty weren’t. I made a joke to our gang that there weren’t any dog collars in evidence, trying to be sly with a pun. No vicars with priestly dog collars and no bondage-wear dog collars either. Hanz and T said they recognized some people they had seen at play parties but also plenty of people to whom you’d never admit your sex life was on the far side. Frankly I couldn’t make heads or tails of why the crowd was what it was. Then there was the tink-tink of a wine glass being tapped, that announced a speech was about to be made. A couple, who Hanz pointed out were our hosts, an English couple, stood arm in arm on the stairs and announced themselves. They thanked everyone for coming and said that, having been married for a handful of years, it was time to raise a family and so they announced that the bride was now happily and successfully pregnant. Everyone applauded and the party resumed. The bride rapidly circulated through the crowd accepting congratulations and whispering to some of the guests, including Hanz and T. T reported to Anna and I what was being whispered. While trying to get pregnant the bride, naturally enough, had been strictly off swinging and totally monogamous. But now that she was safely pregnant, she could start having some special fun again. And that’s what they were whispering to their lifestyle friends. Let the fun fucking resume. She had even whispered to Hanz “I love my husband, but fucking him is a bore” and then discreetly squeezed Hanz’s nuts. We continued chatting with strangers and enjoying the free drinks and hors d’oeuvres (this was a well-to-do couple and the goods were very good) when something strange happened. Out of the crowd emerged an androgynous Asian couple. And when I say androgynous I mean I couldn’t tell which was the boy and which was the girl. Or two of a kind. Just to confirm my confusion, Anna too couldn’t tell which was what either. We watched from half way across the room as they approached Hanz and T and didn’t as much introduce themselves as just press their bodies onto our friends. From that moment on, the four of them seemed physically glued together. It didn’t bother Anna and I – we were a happy couple ourselves – but it really had us puzzled. What was going on and even more, how did it happen so fast? A mystery that never got sorted out. A signal was passed to Anna and I that it was time to go and once outside the suggestion was for the six of us to go to a play club that they knew. Anna and I were happy with the idea. Going there, Anna drove, me beside her, while the other four were in the back seat, being strange together. At the club we paid our dues and went in. Feeling the mood, we soon stripped off, left our clothes in lockers and started dancing naked in the main room. After a while Anna and I went to a booth. I sat down and she sat on my lap. I slipped inside her and we slow-fucked. We pointed out to each other people that we fancied playing with and also people that we might want to watch playing with our partners. After all, Anna and I had had plenty of sex together but we hadn’t yet seen each other getting it on with someone else, so that idea was, well, quite enticing. Then we switched to guessing Hanz might want or T might want, and who might want them. All a playful guessing game. Or who, if anybody, could get it on with the androgynous Asians. We extended this guessing game to pointing out who might like to get it on with our partners and who might not touch us with the proverbial long pole. It was fun speculating about and that got our juices up. Anna and I had been “faithful” to each other (not counting all the sex Anna was having with T) and it was about time for us to spread our wings and watch each other getting it on with other people. After a while, even though we’d been admitted to the club and the club took our door fee, it began to dawn on all six of us that we weren’t fully welcome there. For one thing, nobody had approached any of us. So we decided to leave. Maybe the club hoped the likes of us would broaden the place’s appeal, but their traditional clientele were giving us the cold shoulder and we’d rather go home than be brushed off. Before leaving, while the others were getting dressed, since Anna and I were enjoying ourselves we picked up the pace and finished off, then got up to leave. It was delightful again coming inside Anna, all the more for being in that sexy yet unwelcoming environment. We all drove back to Hanz’s house. By the time we got there I was feeling frisky again and so Anna and I had a session, missionary style, on the living room rug. As she and I started out, all four of the others made a bee line for Hanz and T’s bedroom and pointedly closed the door. And locked it. Theirs was going to be a private party, we could tell. That door stayed closed. I felt no regrets about that and neither did Anna. Heaven only knows just what was going on inside and just what the genders were. Anna and I went to our room and since we’d had two sexy sessions that evening, we just held hands, kissed and fell asleep. We ignored whatever sounds might be coming from the next room and wondered what we might learn the next morning. That ended my fifth day in Capetown. The next evening, the sixth day of My African Adventure, I learned how T had been conceived.
  3. The fourth day (Part 3 here) of my erotic African adventure. I learn the personal secrets of my friend’s lovely companion and we continue to a quiet and sensuous day. So I had come from a frigid Toronto winter to sunny Capetown, visiting my photographer friend Hanz. Then the erotic surprises began and they just didn’t stop. I met his girl, who we called T, I got a frisky companion Anna, and the delights and sex were practically non-stop. Now it was Monday and a revelation was to come. MY AFRICAN ADVENTURE – PART 4 – MONDAY – I LEARN MISS T’S SECRETS Monday was a relatively quiet day with less to report. But it began with a revelation and ended with calm sweetness. Friends who do a lot of world travelling tell me that just ’cause you slept well your first night after a long flight doesn’t mean jet lag won’t bite you; they warned it’s the second or third night’s sleep that will be difficult, and Sunday night was when it hit me; early Monday morning, as I continued to toss and turn, I learned it was true. Here I was eight thousand miles and seven time zones from Ontario and jet lag was biting me on the bottom. I left in bed sweet sexy Anna, who was nice enough to be my companion over the weekend and now had arranged her work schedule to let me enjoy her charms for the whole time I’m here in South Africa. I got up thinking I’d watch some TV or smoke a little to get sleepy again. But to my surprise my host Hanz was up and working at his computer, polishing a photo assignment. He said to me “you guys with a job and a paycheck get time off; a free-lancer like me works all the time. When you’re self-employed you have a slave driver for a boss.” We shared strong cups of coffee and he began to tell me about his live-in girl friend, T. He said he would let T tell me the remarkable story of her parents and siblings and how she was conceived, an amazing tale in itself, a story she was proud to tell. But her own story, with its dark and light sides, she didn’t like to openly relate to new friends, but Hanz thought I should know it. It wasn’t anything T didn’t want friends to know, it was just something better told to me by Hanz. He went on to tell me T’s story and how, in a manner of speaking, he had saved her life. T is constantly filled with desire. Strong sex, which she needed at least three times a day, would make her satisfied and fulfilled, the way most people wanted sex a few times a week. But even then there was still the itch, itching at her, which explained her constantly playing with herself. Why she always had her hand in her pussy. It wasn’t even deliberate, Hanz explained, it was just an unconscious thing she did, like you or I might unconsciously scratch at an insect bite. At least she only did it when she had her clothes off, which was most of the time at home. She was constantly rubbing her clit and massaging her vagina. As a child, once she hit puberty – which was early for her, naturally enough – the trouble began. Well, it was pleasure for her, but troubling to the adults around her. She just couldn’t keep her hands away from her crotch, which bothered the grown ups, and she was very pleased about it, which bothered the grown ups even more. Fortunately T’s sexual energy was entirely focused on herself. If she’d been a school girl who would lay for any boy or target girls (in homophobic Africa) that would have been real trouble. But fortunately as a youngster she just wanted to get herself off, not have sex with others; that came later. When she was in school, he went on to explain, the authorities thought she might be what they called a sex addict and sent her to therapy. But the therapists said no, sex addicts are deeply unhappy with sex. Not T; T was deeply happy with sex. Thrilled with it, loving it, wanting it with every breath. T was just very horny and loved sex. Loved it too much, they thought. They taught her to manage her desires and to avoid embarrassing herself in public. The therapists declared her to be – that condescending phrase – “well adjusted” and – a beautiful phrase – “rich in desire”. Rich in desire! What a gift from the gods. Lucky girl, I thought. Back at home in Canada we’d just say she was over sexed. I think you say that in the US too. But that was a good thing as long as she was happy, it didn’t disrupt her life, and she didn’t leave human wreckage in her wake. Hanz went on to say that T’s mother, he understood, was rather the same. Again, that mother-daughter thing. T had told him that the mother had a wild and roaming sex life. Not a problem in the family. T’s mother was very fertile: she had six brothers and sisters, all healthy and real. It wasn’t uncommon in Africa to value fertility over faithfulness, I’d been told. Single mothers were quite marriageable; they weren’t considered damaged goods as they would have been in the time of our grandparents in the US and Canada; they were considered proven child bearers. A woman known to be fertile was a desirable partner indeed. So the young T adjusted to her lusty nature. Combining that with her striking good looks and men flocked around her which, as she grew older, became a problem. I think all of us in the lifestyle are all to aware that women – or men – who are too driven by their sexuality end up in difficult circumstances. Women especially can find themselves in exploitive situations which do them great harm. I’ve seen it in Canada and I suspect most of our readers here have seen it in the US. That could have been the trajectory that T was headed for. Once T was out of school she could have been in a downward spiral. But meeting Hanz saved her life, so to speak. Here was a solid guy who could provide her with a stable relationship that also accommodated her exceptional sexual needs and gave her a solid and safe relationship. She could live a good and sane life with Hanz as a home base. That old chestnut about people who grow up poor long for “three squares a day” – square meals, that is – applied to T in her own special way. Her special needs meant that her needed her own kind of three squares every day, plus plenty of snacks, and Hanz was a man who could provide them, in a healthy way. Along with the vitamin supplements of their activities in the lifestyle. And so it went. (There was a fly in this ointment, as you may realize. Hanz, as a photographer with an international practice, was often away on assignment. After all, I met him when he was working in Canada. What kept T sane when he was away? A mystery I never learned the answer to.) Hanz went on to say that T comes from a very unusual family with exceptional parents and six siblings like no others. But he’d leave that story for T to tell me herself (which in due course she did, two days later, over dinner, on Wednesday night at the legendary Mount Nelson Hotel). Hanz said T’s rather beautiful, right? I agreed. And rather lusty, right? Again I agreed. Well, he said, T is her mother’s daughter, and you could say her father’s daughter as well. The mother, Mrs T, an quite beautiful woman. She attracts men like flies. And she’s quite lusty too; not as much as her daughter, but more than nearly any woman you might meet. (That too I learned about later.) It had been about an hour while Hanz had told me that story, so it was now maybe four in the morning. Though we’d been drinking strong coffee, I finally felt sleepy again and, not wanting to disturb my lovely Anna, I fell asleep on the living room couch. I slept for a few hours on the couch only to be kicked – kicked! – awake in mock anger by Anna. She’d woken up to find me gone from her bed. She was dressed for her morning power ride and then found me dozing on the couch. Pretending to be angry at me she wrestled me awake and then went off for her ride. I went back to sleep. Hours later I got up, bleary eyed and the four of us had breakfast. All agreed that what I needed was some vigorous exercise and so we decided on a group bike ride. Anna got me a loaner bike and off we went. It was a lovely biking tour of the Cape with only one thing worthy of comment: with every opportunity for a rest room, T called a time out for a bathroom break. When our ride was done and we were chilling back home I privately asked Anna what was up with T having to pee every other minute. Anna burst out laughing and called me a fool. T hadn’t been peeing on those stops, she’d been masturbating! The saddle on her bike had been rubbing her clit just the right way to get her too excited and she’d needed to rub one off to keep from going crazy during our bike. What a fool I was! The rest of our day was much like the other’s I’ve described; splashing in the pool, Hanz and T having a vigorous midday fuck, my Anna and T having their own sex together, lunch, napping, dinner, early to bed since I was exhausted. For Anna and I, in bed, this night was different. Instead of just having sex together, we explored each other’s bodies, touching and touching, relishing the skin, delighting in feeling each other. Anna was amused that I kept myself hairless. She, on the other hand, kept her love triangle’s hair in a delightful way. She kept herself trimmed short, maybe around three or five millimeters (a quarter inch to you Yanks). Normally that would make the patch wiry and scratchy but she used some hair-care stuff that kept her pubic hair soft and delightful to touch or rub your face into. Like petting a favorite cat. Petting my pet? Let me touch you! And so we drifted off to sleep. This was the first night that I didn’t awake to Anna kissing me with T’s pussy on her breath. Not that I minded it; I found it both sweet and erotic. Whenever I smelled T on Anna's breath I immediately got an erection. But it was somehow special to have Anna all to myself for a full night. Just caressing each other every time we awoke. That ended the fourth day of my African adventure. The next day, my fifth of My African Adventure, or rather the next night, would be explosive.
  4. The third day (Part 2 here) of my erotic African adventure. I could never have imagined the experiences I was being prepared for that would shortly unfold. Already I had breathtaking things happen on my first two days. Friday I flew from a frigid Canadian winter to sunny Capetown and my friend Hanz. I met his girl T and got introduced to their erotic life. Then Saturday they helped me find a girlfriend-of-the-moment, Anna, who turned out to be the most enthusiastic sexual partner I had ever had. That was just Friday and Saturday. What adventures would Sunday hold? MY AFRICAN ADVENTURE – PART 3 – SUNDAY – A HISTORY LESSON, A TEASE, A VIEW, FAVORITE POSITIONS AND A PROMISE OF MORE TO COME After a long long sleep I awoke to Anna standing over me, dressed in her biking outfit, sweaty and glowing. She’d been out for an early morning power ride on her racing bike. She kissed me awake and was about to hop into the shower. I asked if I could lick her sexy parts first. No, no, she wasn’t about to let me do that. She showered, I washed up and we went out to join Hanz and T for Sunday breakfast. We started to plan what to do with the day when the girls called a time out and said first they were going to Anglican communion. Going to church on Sunday morning? I guess they were well brought up. They disappeared and reappeared wearing very proper white lacy dresses, that must have been from the shopping they had done the afternoon before. Off they went, saying that they would put on a show for us when they got back. Hanz and I had no idea what that would be. While they were gone, Hanz gave me a local history lesson with proper vocabulary; vocabulary you needed to know to avoid giving offence here in South Africa. Here is some of how it went. The descendents of the earliest Dutch settlers, like Hanz, were called Afrikaners and spoke a medieval version of the Dutch language call Afrikaans. The descendents of British colonists, and any other white people, were uniformly just called English. Native populations, of which there were many many separate groups, were all referred to as Black (which in the South African way was pronounced “blek”). People from India have spread throughout the British empire and here they were referred to as Asians. We Canadians and you Americans would call them Indian, but here they were called Asian; go figure. Anybody of mixed race, and that was mostly Black & white, were called Coloured. This wasn’t vocabulary we’d use in North America by any means. At this point I remarked that T, being so light, must be Coloured. But Hanz said no, she was purebred Xhosa through and through, and that was an erotic tale in itself (he said mysteriously). Hanz said T’s story was very complex and interesting, including how he had saved her life, something he would explain to me later. Not a tale for now. (But not long withheld; it was early the next morning, over pre-dawn coffee, that he told me the story he had to relate. The other story, of T’s family and how she came to be conceived, I would learn days later at the legendary Mount Nelson Hotel.) Then he said if you think T is beautiful and over sexed, you should see her mother. T’s mother, he said, was extremely beautiful, perhaps among the most beautiful woman in all South Africa and quite randy. “She’s the Tallulah Bankhead of South Africa” he said. (You have to know about old American movie stars to know what he was talking about. Tallulah was a movie star beauty of the 1940s and by reputation ravenously sexual). I would later come to understand what he was talking about. Then the girls came back from communion, claiming to be spiritually renewed. And they put on a show for us. The twirled around in their going-to-church dresses, all white and lacy and very proper. What we saw turned out to be the outermost of three layers. Unwrapping the outer layer they revealed what would be good for a fashionable cocktail party. Still white and lacy, but sexy and showing more flesh. Something of a come-hither look that would go well with what are called fuck-me heels. Unwrapping the middle layer, they revealed the inner layer, which would be good to go to a play party. Very sexy and showing lots of interesting flesh. Lace and skin, what a combination! They’d taken club wear to church, hidden under two more discreet layers. Oh boy. Hanz said he never knew a posh store like Woolworths Cavendish sold outfits like that. The girls winked and said they knew where to get sexy clothes that we men had never heard of. Before they went any further, the girls insisted we give them a dance. Hanz put on some music and we danced for a while. Since the girls were now wearing the innermost, club wear layer we had the treat of reaching in and fondling while we danced. Then the girls unwrapped the inner layer, revealing to us all they had. At that point we all went out to the pool and played. Once T was relieved of having any clothes on, she resumed her habit of fingering herself and periodically licking her fingers. If she was standing next to any of the rest of us, she might hold out her finger to be licked or press her finger to a mouth. It was very much like the way a child would share her candy with friends. After we’d had fun in the pool, the very athletic Anna wanted more exercise and Hanz and T suggested we hike around Table Mountain, which loomed above city, more or less in the backyard of Hanz’s neighborhood. The view they promised would be spectacular and the exercise should be strenuous enough to satisfy Anna. We packed a lunch, changed to hiking gear and set off. When we came to a patch that could be used for a rock climb, Anna would scramble up; kind of showing off but burning off some of her excess athletic energy. Winding around the side of Table Mountain we got to the top and saw the West Cape Province laid out in front of us. It was a delightful and vigorous hike getting our way to the top. On the paths there would occasionally be a public toilet and almost every time we encountered one, T would duck in to relieve herself. Looking out at the Cape spread below us, Hanz told me in Afrikaans it’s called Kaapstad, that is Cape City, naturally enough. T said in Xhosa it’s iKapa, which looks to me like it means The Cape. That wasn’t too tough; but I couldn’t say the click that begins some words in Xhosa. Thanks to some travel exhaustion I was bushed so instead of hiking some more, we took the cable tramway back down and walked home. I lay down for a nap, while Anna lay nuzzling next to me, reading a book. She made sure my sleepy hand was caressing one of her nipples. Afterwards Anna and I got up and played at the pool with our hosts. I was concerned that my time with sexy Anna was coming to a close, but right then she asked if we’d like her to stay over with us for the week. It was a slow time at her job, she said, and she’d already gotten an OK from her boss to take a week’s vacation. That made me ever so happy. I would get to have this marvelous erotic partner for the rest of my week’s time in South Africa. Then we cooked and ate dinner. Over dinner we had a funny debate about sex positions and technique. We all agreed that the equestrian position, cowgirl as I think you call it in the States, was the best. T said they once went to a play party where from the moment they arrived the women had to be naked and wearing cowboy hats and of course cowgirl straddling was the theme position of the party. I just burst out laughing, it seemed so outrageous and so funny. I said cowgirl was so much better than reverse cowgirl – you could watch each other’s expressions. I asked if anyone liked anal and the girls both spontaneously gave Bronx cheers. We talked about favorite positions. I’ve forgotten what Hanz and T said theirs were, but Anna told me hers was with the lady on her back with her legs pulled up and the man on his side at a right angle, slipping neatly into the woman. I admitted I didn’t think I’d ever done that. Mine, I reported, was with the man sitting with legs crossed, sort of a yoga position, and the woman sitting on his lap, legs straddling her mate. What is great about that position is that you’re so close, face to face, that kissing and being lost in each other’s eyes comes naturally. The only draw back is that the man needs to be at least a little longer than average, which worked fine for me. Anna and I agreed that we’d do both positions tonight and we headed off to bed without further delay. After treating each other to our favorite positions, we fell asleep. In the middle of the night I woke up to find Anna gone for the moment; to use the toilet I thought. I went back to sleep and then woke up again to the sound of Anna tiptoeing back into our bedroom. As we kissed I caught the distinctive smell of T’s honey pot on Anna’s breath, so I knew what Anna had been up to while she was out of the room. I smiled and said that I hoped she had enjoyed the interlude. Anna mumbled that they both had and we fell back to sleep. That ended the third day of adventure in South Africa and my second day enjoying the charms of sweet Anna, with now the promise of a full week more to come. Little did I realize what I would learn early the next morning on Day 4 of My African Adventure.
  5. Years ago a girlfriend pegged me as part of a prostate milking. Can't say I loved it.
  6. On the second day (Part 1 here) of my erotic African journey I met Anna who became my enthusiastic partner in sexual adventure. We immediately clicked and she and I joined Hanz and T for fun at the pool and a sweet overnight. It was hard to believe what I had experienced the day before: departing frozen Toronto, landing in sunny Capetown, playing naked by the swimming pool, experiencing African spices over dinner, and having the gorgeous, sexy T jack me not once, but twice. All that in one day. What would happen next? MY AFRICAN ADVENTURE - PART 2 - SATURDAY - FINDING A TERRIFIC COMPANION After a long sleep I awoke to find Hanz and T waiting to fix breakfast for me. They were dressed in the thin robes that T had worn when she greeted me at the door. See looked even sexier than when she was naked by the pool. A naked girl is a naked girl. But show me a girl wearing something that invites you to reach in and touch; that's sexy! I wasn't about to do it, but oh boy did I have the temptation to put a hand in there. While I ate breakfast, neither of T's hands were in sight. It appeared that one hand was fondling Hanz and the other languidly and unconsciously fingering herself, as I'd seen her do habitually, almost from the moment I met her. What should we do with the day? T said we should find a girl friend for me to spend the week with. Hanz said we should hang out at their favorite sports bar and watch some games. Little did I know they were talking about the same thing. T said her Mum taught her never to go grocery shopping while you're hungry. With that she reached over and started jacking me. But there was nothing affectionate about the way she was doing it, so I brush her off, politely. Hanz said T's mother was a formidable woman and wise. T giggled. He said he'd tell me about her another time, which he did a few days later. We washed up and drove to the sports bar, got a table and some beers. The beer was good, the games on the TV were good, and it was clear this was a popular pick up spot. Hanz said they met there and T hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. From time to time they pointed out someone they thought I might be interested in, but each seemed too young and immature and maybe looking for someone to sponge off of. Then my eye fell on a woman sitting alone, closer to my age, who didn't seem silly and frivolous. She looked self possessed. She was darker than T, with an athletic build and more chest. I'd never dated anyone who wasn't white or oriental. So I went over and introduced myself. Anna was her name. Surprisingly we had instant rapport, hitting it off right away. (Later we discovered why that was so.) I told her about my job in Canada. She managed a law office and spent most of her free time fiercely touring on her bicycle and entering amateur competitions. (She'd been watching a race on one of the screens.) She seemed passionate about everything she did. I told her I'd been briefly married and then had a series of girlfriends. She said over the years she'd lived with a variety of boyfriends and a couple of girlfriends but wasn't in a relationship now. It was obvious that we both hoped to have some fun together. I found her amazingly attractive and I was halfway to hard. After we chatted a bit I suggested she join my friends at our table. I could tell she was hesitant - likely she thought my "friends" were some guys wanting to get lucky - but when she saw Hanz and T, with T waving cheerily, she immediately agreed. After we four talked and drank for a while, T suggested we go to Hanz's and enjoy the pool. Anna immediately agreed. Hanz and T drove back in his car and Anna and I followed in hers, chatting along the way. When we got there, Hanz and T ducked into the kitchen to get drinks and snacks saying we should meet them outside at the pool. I hung back wanting to see what Anna's reaction was to the poolside dress code. Didn't want to spook her or start off on the wrong foot. Not yet seeing how Hanz and T would be undressed, Anna immediately stripped down to her bra and panties. That might seem odd to you, but in some parts of the world people use their underwear as swimwear. In this case, Anna had on an athletic bra and panties, solid black, which could easily pass for an actual bikini. She got to the outside door, saw Hanz and T - sure to be nude - and she immediately stripped off. No hesitation and no shyness. This was the good signal I wanted, so I stripped off too and joined everybody outside. They were already splashing each other in the pool and I joined in. I got my first good look at Anna's figure. Shorter and stockier than T, her cycling hobby had made her strong and lean with especially muscular legs. The athletic bra she had been wearing had hidden her breasts; they were a delightful size. While T's love triangle was bare and smooth, Anna's was neatly trimmed short. Anna was a girl for me. Anna had the biggest smile you can imagine while she played in the water; she was very happy! And when she swam her muscular arms and legs moved her faster than any of the other of us could keep up with. During breaks in our water games Hanz and I talked and the girls huddled together, with their arms around each other. They seemed quite entranced with each other and they talked quietly speaking something that wasn't English or Afrikaans. With their hands on each other's rumps, they nuzzled their breasts together while they talked. We played some more and had some snacks and had fun. Finally at one point Anna and I found ourselves at one end of the pool, Hanz and T at the other. This seemed like an opportunity to start getting more intimate. Although the situation was ripe for action, I was cautious; you know how one wrong or misunderstood move can make things go south in a flash. I was just about to hesitantly start caressing her breasts when we both heard a pleasant sound: Hanz and T were going at it. Without a moment's hesitation Anna put her hand on my dick and I followed by licking her nipples. Then I hoisted her up on the edge of the pool, perfectly positioned for me to begin licking and tonguing her. She loved it! And I'm pretty good at it, too. She did something that more lovers should do, giving me some directions; more of this, less of that. Ah, it was wonderful. Some spasms showed me when she had a small orgasm or two and then when she got to a big one, those powerful cyclist's thighs nearly crushed my head. We got up and went over to a lounge. She lay down and I lay on top of her. With no more foreplay needed, I smoothly slid into her. Oh it felt so good to be inside of a lover, especially a lover who reciprocated the interest. She was good at having multiple orgasms and wasn't shy about sharing her delight with me. I expected that I would be coming much too soon, but happily I was able to hold back while we screwed and screwed. Finally I started coming which set her off for a big one, during which she got quite vocal. It felt so great to be coming inside woman again. I collapsed on top of her and we hugged and kissed and whispered for a while. Anna asked me if I had noticed how Hanz and T had situated themselves. They'd been doing doggy style, turned so they could be watching us. About then the two others finished up and we four gathered with beers in our hands. We all giggled and laughed and then giggled some more. T kissed Anna and asked "How many?" The numbers they spoke reminded me how girls get more out of sex than boys. T as usual was dipping her hand in her honeybox and licking Hanz's semen off her fingers. Both girls had some of our come leaking out onto their thighs. Anna grabbed T and said "let me go clean you up" and they went off together. Hanz and I engaged in the usual guy talk that we all know so well and watched the girls lap each other up. It was clear that the girls weren't just cleaning each other up, they were having sex together. When they rejoined Hanz and I, they looked at us with smug expressions. T hugged and kissed Hanz, while Anna hugged and kissed me; on her breath was what I was learning was the scent of T. Anna whispered to me "Want some more big boy? I'm ready." I wasn't ready, which proved the point. Women get so much more out of sex than men. Then we all had lunch, napped a little after, and played some water volley ball, rotating often so everybody was teamed with everybody. There was a lot of slap and tickle going on too. Then we chilled and the three of us asked Anna if she would like to stay over night; she said she was hoping we would ask and gave me the eye. She said should go home to get some things. T asked to go with her and off they went. While they were gone Hanz and I goofed around. The girls were gone longer than we expected. Anna came back with an overnight bag and her racing bike. They both had really big shopping bags from Woolworths Cavendish. Girls; what can you say? Anna and T fixed supper together, squabbling some over which spices to use. We ate and then retired to the living room for some TV and necking. When it seemed like T was about to jump Hanz's bones I took Anna to bed and we made long slow love together. Then I fell into a deep sleep in her arms, only waking briefly to feel Anna nuzzling me. And that was the end of the second day of my African adventure. Read about what I experienced on my third day in Part 3 of My African Adventure.
  7. A letter from Capetown brought back memories of the most erotic experience of my life - intensely sexual, my African adventure, from years ago. Before I tell you about the letter, I have to begin at the beginning, years ago, when I met a talented South African photographer. MY AFRICAN ADVENTURE, PART 1 OF WHAT MAY BECOME 11 PARTS, AN EROTIC ARRIVAL PREAMBLE I work as the photo editor for a major Canadian magazine, which I won't name (and no, it's not Maclean's). Call me Fred, Fred the Photo Ed. Some years ago I met a talented young South African photographer (I'll call him "Hanz") who was on assignment in Canada. We quickly struck up a friendship and spent time together. At the time we first met I was single and in the lifestyle and so I introduced him to the best play houses and parties in Ontario and BC and some in-between. (Thanks to the reputation I had built, as well as generosity in bringing gifts for the hosts that bowled them over, I was welcome as a single man to almost any party, the parties that routinely excluded single men. And Hanz quickly earned his own welcome, as word spread across our wide but gossipy country. We Canadians are very hospitable.) During another of his professional visits to Canada I had a girlfriend at the time and so we had some threesomes at home and also went clubbing all together. After we had gotten to know each other Hanz repeatedly invited me to come visit him in the Capetown neighborhood of Oranjezicht, tucked just below the famous Table Mountain. When a particularly nasty, hard, bitter cold and long Canadian winter hit I decided to take him up on it, to spend a week in southern Africa. FRIDAY - THE FIRST DAY, ARRIVAL AND WELCOME After too many hours in the air and much exhaustion I landed in Capetown and took an over-priced taxi in to Hanz's house. I rang the bell and the door was answered by a striking young woman, light brown in colour, wearing only a thin cotton sand-coloured robe; it complemented her nicely. She greeted me and said I could never pronounce her name so I was to just call her T. Her robe hung slightly open at the front and while it concealed her breasts, it revealed a line of lovely skin from her neck, down her chest between her concealed breasts, through a smooth trim belly, and to a triangle that was well shaven or waxed. She was medium height, thin, long limbed, and with a radiant smile. Oh, lucky Hanz! He hadn't told me about her. T welcomed me in. Jet lag made me clumsy and as I stumbled in over the doorway, I missed seeing her hang up her robe. The next sight I got of her, as she led me through the house, was of her back, round buns, thighs, calves and bare feet. There wasn't a blemish on her and that smooth skin called out to be touched. She led me to the pool in the back, where Hanz greeted me heartily. While Hanz and I hugged and shook hands and celebrated each other, I got a look at T's gorgeous breasts. Nicely sized in the B-to-C cup range and with the benefit of youth, not the slightest bit of sag. Her nipples were darkest brown and small. I felt quite envious of Hanz. They showed me to my guest bedroom. I had to wash up after my long flight so I showered and threw on a bathing suit to go out and join Hanz and T. I got half way out when I realized how silly it was for me to be wearing a bathing suit when my hosts were naked, so I stripped it off and joined them. Jet-lag was my only excuse for being so slow on the take up. We talked and had some sodas and beers and played around on the pool. I tried to not be obvious that I could barely take my eyes off T. When standing around she seemed to adopt only two postures. One was with her arms folded, which framed her gorgeous breasts. The other was with her long arms hanging down. When she was standing like that, she had the odd and apparently unconscious habit of fingering herself and then periodically putting a moistened finger tip in her mouth and then returning her hand to her honey pot. She didn't seem to be really masturbating herself, it was just one of those odd habits people have - though this was the oddest and sexiest habit of all. After we'd talked and drank, goofed around in the pool, jet-lag was getting the better of me and I lay down on a pool-side couch to take a snooze. I awoke to the quiet and delicious sound of fucking, the soft gentle rhythm of two people enjoying sex. I lay doggo, pretending to be still be asleep, and watched them. Fortunately I was laying on my side, so it was easy for me to watch them and also easy to disguise my erection, which would have been sticking straight up if I had been laying on my back. It was equestrian. Hanz lay on his back and T rode him, the delicious cowgirl. She was facing me, so I had the best view possible. She went up and down in a steady rhythm, the way you do it when you're in no hurry to get to an orgasm, but want to prolong the simple and beautiful pleasure of it. I watched quietly. Eventually T caught on to the fact that I was watching. She discretely gave a little wave of her hand to let me know she was on to me. She continued slow fucking Hanz for a while and then gave me a wink. She continued riding Hanz at the same pace, but instead of smoothly gliding up and down him, she now put a push into it, driving them both toward their orgasms. It was still the rhythm of a slow fuck, but done harder and more passionately. Sweat began to glisten on her breasts and upper lip. She started holding her head back and then began to arch her shoulders back. Her small breasts stood out and her nipples extended. Coming was eminent. While the speed of her riding up and down on Hanz didn't change, she began having small spasms. I could see the muscles of her belly rippling. Finally it was too much; Hanz's hips began bucking upward and her hips jerked forward as they both came. T collapsed forward lying chest-on-chest with Hanz while they both caught their breath. Then after a bit we all got up. I opened three beers and we stood around talking and drinking. T followed her habit of putting a finger inside herself and then taking it to her mouth. Only now her finger wasn't just a little moist with her juices, it was thick with Hanz's semen. I haven't mentioned what you obviously suspect: I had a full and almost painful erection sticking straight out while we stood and talked. There was nothing I could do about it. Pleasure and pain: I had the exciting pleasure of being very aroused, combined with the pain of feeling no touch, no prospect for any relief. After we'd chatted and joked for a while Hanz looked down at my arrow-straight erection and said to T that she should put me out of my misery. T said maybe after we were better acquainted we might screw but now was too soon. Hanz asked her to have some mercy and so she did. She put her hands to me in a way that I'd never experienced before. She held out one hand, palm up, fingers extended. That she put under my straight erection, cradling it. With her other hand she softly stroked the top of my dick, from the base to the tip. It was like she was petting a cat and she did it just like that: all the strokes on one direction, slow and languid, as if she were petting a cat while paying no attention to it - but she was paying attention, full attention, to my reaction. The feeling was exquisite. If I hadn't been so horny I could have really enjoyed it, having her slowly, gradually arouse me. Just like the slow fucking between her and Hanz that I had just witnessed. But that wasn't the case now: I was extremely aroused and fit to burst. I almost immediately began coming onto her palm. Slow, long lasting, relishing the pleasure - that would have been my preference. But for the same reason that I had an unequivocally stiff erection I found myself coming without delay. The way she continued stroking the top of me, like petting a cat, intensified my orgasm. It felt gorgeous to be coming in her palm, though I would have loved for the experience to have lasted longer. And I would have loved for it to be inside someone who was enjoying it with me. When I was done spurting and started to soften she raised her hand to her mouth and licked my semen off her palm. Then she said that she knew what I ate on the plane. Clever girl. Hanz said he was never allowed to eat asparagus. When she was nearly finished lapping up my spunk, she swiped a fingertip with some and rubbed it around Hanz's lips. Then with another fingertip inside her, she took some of Hanz's semen and rubbed it around my lips. With her arms around our shoulders she hugged us together and said "you're my boys". Although she hadn't had sex with me, although I hadn't had the opportunity to give her deep pleasure, she was unquestionably welcoming me to the household. By then the sun was low in the sky and we went into the house, T made dinner and we ate and I was introduced to the African flavors and spices that she used. After dinner I did the washing up and then joined Hanz and T on the couch in front of the TV. We were all in our robes with Hanz and I sitting on either side of T. After a while she slipped her hand into my robe and began fondling me. It took but a moment for me to get hard. She stroked me slowly and gently, almost absent-mindedly, much like the way she would touch herself. I really enjoyed the sensation. From time to time she would stop stroking me and play with my balls or rub the inside of my thigh. I think she was doing this to keep me from getting too excited too quickly. Unlike this afternoon when, out of horniness, I came quickly, this was being drawn out for maximum pleasure. And the pleasure went on and on. Finally I was reaching a peak, about to come, and she must have sensed it because she leaned over and put her lips on the tip of my dick. I came in her mouth and she swallowed without making a show of it. I think she had taken my spunk into her mouth just to avoid any messiness. She had put her lips on the very end tip of me and held steady, so I got no sensation from it. Yes, by holding steady she was giving me a ruined orgasm, that's what she was doing. But ruined or not, it was delightful to come a second time under her ministrations and in the whole experience I was bathed in pleasure. For a while I was lost in the afterglow and when I recovered I turned and smiled to her. She smiled back and then swung over and mounted Hanz. They began fucking, slowly, slowly, much as they had in the afternoon. There eyes were fixed on each other and their gazes never moved; they were locked looking deeply into each other's eyes while they slow fucked. You can have sex with someone and have your mind entirely on your own sensations. But when your eyes are locked together, your mind is on the shared sensation. And that is how they were. They kept on like this for a good long time and after a while I put myself to bed while they continued. I thought about the day - flying away from frozen Toronto, arriving in sultry South Africa, seeing again my friend Hanz, meeting his lady T, being introduced to African spices, having a gorgeous girl jack me twice. What a day. I immediately fell asleep and slept for maybe nine or ten hours. I dreamed of crowded airplanes, sunny Africa, and gorgeous girls who loved sex until I awoke mid morning. And that was the first day of my adventure in Africa. Next, Part 2, Saturday, I find a terrific companion.
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