Andrew Simpson woke up with an incredibly heavy feeling, and an urgency to use the toilet. But it took only a moment for the disorientation to pass. The heaviness was the fact that Motumbo was still on top of him, having fallen asleep after his orgasm the night before. And the urgency to use the toilet probably came from the fact that the African's massive rod was still inside Simpson's rectum, so long and heavy that even in its flaccid state it remained where Motumbo had left it after his last quivering spasm the night before.
Simpson pushed up and over, and Motumbo turned onto his back, his penis plopping out of the white man. But the African did not awake. Quietly, Simpson slipped from the bed and padded across the floor out into the great room on his way to the bathroom. On the way he passed the sofa on which Thatho and Mthobisi slept, having been put up there for the night in the absence of any better lodging until further plans could be made. Having relieved himself, Simpson walked softly back toward the bedroom, stopping to look at the fourteen and thirteen year old boys on the sofa. Their boyish good looks really were attractive, but he still had some lingering doubts as to whether they could be employed at De Groot's.
Simpson slipped back into bed and into the semi-conscious embrace of Motumbo. For another hour or two he dozed, coming more fully into consciousness as the first light of dawn crept into the lodge. Sensing Motumbo's gradual awakening as well, Simpson nuzzled the big man on the face and neck. A soft chuckle announced Motumbo's awareness of his attentions, and powerful black arms around him pulled him in a little tighter.
"I'm glad you're here," whispered Simpson. Motumbo grunted and nodded, then hugged a little tighter. A moment passed. "But Motumbo," Simpson continued, "Thatho and Mthobisi....alright, they are sexually experienced. But really, they are very young. Blow jobs, sucking us, yes they do that well. But if they are the Ball Room team, they will need to do more than that, you know." Motumbo nodded and grunted noncommittally. "Have they," Simpson continued, "have they, you know, taken it in the butt? Can they do that?"
Motumbo chuckled and reached around to squeeze Simpson's hard buttock. "That way, Andrew?" he asked, and laughed out loud. Simpson snuggled in even closer, giving Motumbo's slowly swelling cock an encouraging squeeze.
"Yes, that way, Motumbo. You know, it would come to that. Maybe they have fucked each other, but a grown man?" Motumbo grunted again. He paused a moment, then pushed himself up on one elbow, turning his head toward the door. Simpson listened as well. There was the sound of stirring from the great room. Motumbo cleared his throat and called out the boys' names loudly. There was more sound from the great room, a couple of low voices, then the sound of padding feet. The boys appeared naked in the doorway, rubbing sleep from their eyes.
They were a beautiful sight, and once again, Simpson felt himself aroused although he had not previously had such contact with boys so young. Even just awaking, the boys held their muscular curved tubes of their bodies erect, shoulders back, slim, upturned buttocks protruding behind. Their morning erections made their nearly man sized penises seem even larger and more outsized than Simpson had remembered from the night before, now curving out and a little down from underneath sparse little patches of pubic hair. Their skins were a rich, deep, flawless chocolate, a color infused with life as is so often the case with the young, a fudge color you could eat over ice cream. Motumbo spoke to them in their language. They both laughed and answered, punctuated by light jabs at one another, some animated gestures, and at one point Mthobisi squatted down and then stood up again quickly, which brought a hoot of laughter from Thatho. Motumbo turned to Andrew.
"Andrew, they say they do it with other boys, not men. But they say, no big deal. I don't know, Boss....what you think? Shall we test?" Motumbo broke into a huge grin. Simpson, still reticent but now tempted nearly beyond endurance, didn't know what to say besides smile back in wonderment. Motumbo answered for him. He whipped back the sheets from the bed, leaving the two men naked on the mattress, their morning erections, now growing, being fully apparent. Motumbo spoke to them again in their language and the boys, giggling with laughter, bounded over to the bed, piling into it between the two men in a squirming mass.
For several moments the men, turning inward, cuddled with the boys, tickling them, squeezing them, enfolding them in light bear hugs, kissing and nuzzling their necks and ears while the boys in their turn mock-struggled with Motumbo and took this chance to explore Simpson's physical differences, his unaccustomed cornsilk hair and light complexion. The boys placed their fingers on his thinner lips, and remarked on the scattering of body hair that was new to them. Soon, playfulness led to foreplay. The boys began to tease and then to squeeze the men's penises, which brought them to full, iron erection. The men, tickling the boys, tickled down to their hairless ballsacks, and then grasped their mannish dicks, now also growing fully erect.
Motumbo reached first for the lubricant, for after all this escapade was also a working session to find out whether the boys could handle the consequences of some of the games at De Groot's. Motumbo flopped onto his back and began greasing his midnight black, meaty pole that stuck straight up, slathering lubricant on it from its wide base to the flared cockhead now poking out of his foreskin. Then he reached over and grabbed Mthobisi, who had sucked his rod the previous day, and hauled the boy over to squat above his organ, knees on the bed on either side of Motumbo's hips. Mthobisi took his position with a grin, but cast a wistful look at Simpson and the white man's towering organ. Seeing what was planned, Simpson oiled up his own rigid red shaft, but he did not have to encourage Thatho, who was in place before the white man could direct him to do so.
Now began the time of trial. Wincing and gasping, both boys squatted above the men's pelvises and tried impaling themselves on the man-sized organs. Each man was helpful but insistent; a customer, after all, would be less gentle than this, and the boys needed to show that they could handle it. Not surprisingly, Thatho achieved a breakthrough first: with a yelp, the head of Simpson's organ slipped inside, and the boy slowly lowered himself all the way down, finally settling his firm, rounded buttocks on Simpson's pelvis. Slowly, tentatively, still wincing but breathing hard with growing lust, Thatho began pushing up and sliding down, up and down, on Simpson's dick.
No such luck with Mthobisi. A year younger than his fourteen year old brother and a little smaller, tears started from his eyes as he tried to accommodate Motumbo's huge organ, but it wasn't any good. No matter how hard he pushed, no matter how many comforting words to relax were spoken by Motumbo, the African man's huge dick was just too large. Seeing the difficulty, even as Thatho was beginning to pick up his rhythm, Simpson realized that his relatively smaller penis might work where Motumbo's did not. He quickly suggested that the boys switch. Thatho objected, and had to be half-pulled off of Simpson by Motumbo, but eventually he settled over the African man's penis. Mthobisi, wiping a tear but with a smile of glee, shifted over and positioned himself over Simpson.
Now the drama was repeated, as Thatho struggled to accept the larger African meat. Mthobisi struggled and strained to take Simpson. Once again, the white man proved capable of penetrating the African boy above him first. With a cry, Mthobisi pushed his rectum down over Simpson's cockhead, and then with another cry he slid all the way down in one motion, landing now on Simpson's pelvis, shuddering and breathing hard but fully encasing the white man's dick in his bottom now. Not far behind, and opened up by Simpson's dick before, soon Thatho yelped as Motumbo's fat cockhead popped inside his anus, then moaned as he settled on the African's pelvis, squirming at the huge sausage stuffed inside his gut.
There was a moment of waiting, of tentative movement, of each man insistently but gently pushing up with his pelvis, and then the boys began to swing into a rhythm, up and down, up and down, then faster, now landing down with force so as to receive the adult dick as far up as it would go, now rising up until the man's cockhead was only just inside the anus, then back down again. In the meantime, each boy's own nearly man-sized cock was fully erect, and spraying precum as they bounced up and down. Simpson and Motumbo each grasped the dick of the boy they were fucking and began pumping it in time to the boy's rhythm. Each boy was now stimulated more than they had ever been, their bottoms stuffed full of oversized man-dick and their own penises being rapidly pumped. Each man used his second hand to fondle a hard, rounded buttock, to tweak a nipple, or to support a boy with palm splayed flat on a chest. Mthobisi could not take his eyes off the brand new sight of Simpson's pale fist wrapped around his own purple black cock, and Thatho kept looking over at the spectacle from time to time also.
Being older, Thatho came first, crying out and spraying cum all over Motumbo, the white splats decorating the man's dark fudge skin on his belly, chest, and face. Thatho's rhythm faltered as he came, shuddering and quivering, and he almost pulled off of Motumbo entirely, but he recovered quickly and returned to his rhythm, even faster now as his hips pistoned up and down even as his quivering dick leaked semen as it slapped Motumbo's belly. A little younger, it took Mthobisi another moment but then he, also, growled in a deep voice belying his age and tensed, As luck would have it, he shot a rope of cum directly into Simpson's face, and Simpson, seeing it coming, opened his mouth in anticipation, being rewarded by a shot, and then another one, of thirteen year old African cum in his mouth. It was enough to put Simpson himself over the edge, and roaring, pushing up and gripping the boy's thigh with all his might, Simpson ejaculated up into the African boy, filling his rectum with thick semen even as the boy was still trembling and quivering from his own ecstasy. Finally, Motumbo came, bucking upwards and pulling Thatho down onto his pelvis as he filled the boy with spunk, bucking again and then again. At the end, the boys fell forward onto the cum-spotted chests of the two men, laying their small heaving chests against the heaving bellies and lower chests of the men, as all four fought their way back to normal breathing. Each man gently embraced and stroked the boy above him, feeling his beating heart through the thin wall of muscle.
Eventually, the two men and two boys got up and showered, squeezing as many into the shower stall as they could, the boys laughing and hooting, everyone's penises fully recovered and semi-erect as they slapped against the other slippery bodies beneath the warm falling water. But there was work to do, and they contented themselves with looking and the occasional squeeze. Drying and dressing, the four made their way to the main lodge, where the boys were introduced to Thabo and the rest of the crew that was around. Simpson explained the plan to use the boys in the Ball Room to Thabo, who also expressed concern for their age, but when informed as to the demonstrations of their "qualifications" the day before and that morning, he shrugged and, chuckling throatily, agreed that they would add a special allure to the Ball Room. The question had to be decided soon, though, the next guest was but five days away and the boys had to be trained.
By luck, Little Mandla came into the main lodge about that time. He had been the previous choice for the Ball Room, being smallest on the staff. Simpson introduced the two boys to him and suggested the change in plans. Little Mandla did not mind at all, as he would have plenty of opportunity for other service. At Simpson's request, he agreed to take the two boys to the Ball Room structure and begin training them. As they were leaving, Motumbo whispered in Simpson's ear, Simpson nodded, and made one more request. He asked the boys to stay with Little Mandla in the "Prey" lodge. Part of their training would be daily butt-fucking by Little Mandla, whose ample but not grotesquely large penis would keep the boys loosened up but not sore for the guest who would arrive a few days hence. After that, the guests would keep the boys loose and limber. Everyone agreed to the plan with glee, and off went the boys under the care of Little Mandla.
Thabo took himself off to attend to a project, leaving Simpson and Motumbo alone in the offices. The two men eyed each other quietly. They had not really talked since Motumbo's arrival yesterday about the question that had been hanging over them for weeks now, Motumbo's status at De Groot's. Simpson slipped his hand along the table at which they both sat and covered Motumbo's hand, squeezing it.
"How is your wife, Motumbo?" he asked.
The African grinned broadly. "She OK, Andrew. She gonna have baby, she tell me!"
Simpson's heart skipped a beat; he didn't know what this would mean. "Oh! Well, that's wonderful. Is this your first child?"
Motumbo grinned again and shook his head. "Nah, Andrew, I think I got maybe two more, but them by other women. I don't see them much no more. This our first together, though." He seemed filled with pride, and Simpson could well imagine that he was capable of attracting and then impregnating every young woman for miles around. But the question remained unanswered, and Simpson had to summon up his courage and pursue it.
"So, Motumbo....does that mean you will have to be with her more than at De Groot's? I....I just need to know for staffing....Oh, hell, Motumbo, I need to know for myself. I'm happy for you, it's wonderful to have a family, but...." He trailed off. Motumbo nodded, looking at him thoughtfully, then slipped his hand out from under Simpson's to lay it over the white man's hand, reversing their positions, squeezing Simpson's hand now in his turn.
"Andrew, having baby, that women's work. She mother, she come, stay in house, there be women things all over house. Maybe better I stay here more often, not all time, but more, y'know? If you can hire me."
"Just for hire, Motumbo?"
There was a long pause. Motumbo's face turned a little serious and a little gentle at the same time. When he spoke, it was in a voice almost as soft as a whisper. "No, Andrew, not only for hire. For you and me, y'know? Not all time, I gotta go back sometimes, but, for me and you. How you say it?"
"I say it, `I love you,'" said Simpson.
Motumbo nodded, smiling. "That!" was all he said. Dammit, thought Simpson to himself, can he not come out and say it? Was this against some African rule of macho manhood to say he loves me? Well, be content with this small step forward for yourself, he thought, and turning his hand upside down underneath Motumbo's, the two locked fingers, squeezing gently.
In the early afternoon, shortly after lunch, Simpson, Motumbo, and Thabo walked over to the Ball Room to inspect the facility and to see how the training of the boys was going. Simpson mentally patted himself on the back as they approached the Ball Room: it was an inspiration, if he did say so himself. The building was a single, large room, about the size of any of the lodges' great rooms. The main entrance (other than a couple of fire escapes) was from a porch and door built halfway up the side of the structure. The three men walked up the stairs to the porch, and there they found Little Mandla with an actual bucket of lubricant, greasing both naked boys who stood giggling, penises half-erect, as they turned, bent over, lifted arms, and generally helped in making themselves slick from head to toe. Little Mandla seemed to be enjoying the process as well; the front of his trousers was tenting out in his excitement. In a moment the boys were thoroughly greased. Little Mandla opened the door to the Ball Room and ushered them in.
The Ball Room was a single huge box filled with perfectly transparent, extremely lightweight plastic balls, each about the size of a basketball, each rigid but full of holes and hollow. The interior walls contained lights at intervals, and a strong air conditioning system pulled comfortable air through the structure. The idea was that a person could wriggle into the mass of balls and be suspended in space, completely surrounded by balls. Because they were so lightweight, and because of the combination of lighting and air flow, one would never feel claustrophobic or suffocated even though you were always completely surrounded by the balls. The visual effect was arresting, also. The balls acted as hundreds of prisms defracting the soft light. If someone else were in the Ball Room with you, it was possible to see them as a distorted, indistinct mass, and the farther away they were from you the more indistinct they became although one could always make out something even at opposite corners inside the structure.
Little Mandla, clothed, and the boys entered a tiny space just inside the outer door to the Ball Room. The outer door was secured, then an inner door opened, which filled that entry space immediately with the balls. They were now inside the playing field. The men still outside on the porch could look through a series of glass observation ports and see what was going on inside. Little Mandla repeated instructions to the boys again. They had been told in principle what would happen, but in practice they were hesitant to push into the room. Still, with encouragement from Little Mandla, first Thatho and then Mthobisi pushed, swam, or flew off into the mass of balls. Thoroughly greased, they soon discovered how easy it was to move through the mass of lightweight balls, how much like having wings, how much like being a fish in the sea. Before long the sound of whoops, laughter, and shouts could be heard as the boys went diving, climbing, slithering all around the mass of spheres. Their dark brown shapes could be made out, but indistinctly, as they moved now here and now there. Little Mandla called out encouragement and advice to them. In this and later training sessions, the boys would become accustomed to easy movement in the space. And when a guest arrived....ah! that was the fun part. A guest would be allowed to enter the Ball Room a minute after the boys were released, thoroughly lubricated and naked himself, and would swim or fly after them in pursuit. Catching a boy meant you could enjoy him then and there, buoyed weightlessly in the atmosphere of balls. It was an attraction that was drawing lots of registrations already online.
The next few days were, Simpson realized, the only calm period that De Groot's would see for weeks if not months. Online marketing had done its magic, and multiple parties were making reservations for the different attractions offered by the resort. A full calendar loomed, promising hard work but also riches and fun for all concerned. The staff was hard at work finishing construction and training for the array of entertainment that was offered.
And each night, Simpson and Motumbo returned alone to their lodge. Simpson used all his arts and cunning to woo the big African further: candlelit dinners, soft music, the best South African wines and brandies, and of course sex that was as full of torrid passion as it was of love and tenderness. Every morning they awoke in each other's arms, beginning the day with a slow, loving waltz of love.
The evening came when Thabo drove up into the compound with the first of a long line of guests, Felipe Almodovar, a Spaniard. About thirty, of olive complexion, loose black curls of hair and blue eyes, Simpson could see that he likely charmed everyone he met instantly. Simpson came out to greet the guest, returning his firm handshake and frank smile, then introduced him to Motumbo and other members of the staff who had come out to see the newcomer. Felipe had a good command of English, although it was moderately accented. Thabo escorted him to his own lodge where he would unpack and be tested for STD's, as standard procedure. A couple of hours later, Almodovar, Simpson, Thabo, and Motumbo sat around a festive dinner table in the main lodge, the guest getting to know them and they their guest. The games would start the next day.
It was at a reasonable hour of the morning that Simpson went to fetch Almodovar from his lodge, where he had enjoyed a good breakfast. The two walked up the path to the Ball Room and climbed the stairs to the entryway porch, where Thatho and Mthobisi were already waiting with Little Mandla. The boys were introduced to Almodovar and they shook hands with him as if at the start of a business negotiation, politely formal with one who was about to do his best to catch and fuck them. Simpson could tell by the sparkle in Felipe's eyes that the boys had been the right choice for him. Simpson asked the boys to strip, and then made the same request of Felipe. The Spaniard could not take his eyes off the slim, brown bodies of the boys that emerged from their clothing, nor could they conceal their curiosity when Felipe's muscular, olive-toned body stood naked before them.
The boys' two nearly man-sized penises were already bobbing, semi-erect, as Little Mandla helped them to slather lubricant all over themselves. Felipe gazed at them like a wolf, never taking his eyes off of their slim, muscular, brown teen bodies. Little Mandla opened the entry door, ushered them inside, pulled the lever that opened the interior to them, then pulled another lever that cleared out the entry space for Felipe. Then Little Mandla turned to Felipe and began lathering him with lubricant, a process both he and Felipe enjoyed if their erections were any indication, a wet spot showing on Little Mandla's trousers. He opened the outer door, explaining the rules once again to Felipe. Before he closed the door, he bent down and strapped a tube of lubricant to the Spaniard's ankle. Then, daring to slap Felipe's butt lightly, Little Mandla closed the outer door, opened the inner door, and then went to an observation port to watch the fun with Simpson.
Felipe's eyes adjusted quickly to the soft lighting as the inner door opened and he entered the space full of balls. In the middle distance, some thirty feet away and fifteen feet apart, could be seen two twisting, wallowing brown shapes as the boys, giggling and whispering to each other, made their way into the ocean of balls. Felipe pushed into the mass. It took him a moment to become accustomed to how it felt, to develop a technique for movement, but before long he was swimming or flying in pursuit of his quarry. He decided to pursue one brown shape, not knowing which one it was, but not really caring. The boy could see him coming as well, and dodged here and there, once just barely escaping Felipe's grasp. His brother taunted the Spaniard, once sneaking up behind him and pulling on his foot, but Felipe knew he would deal with that one in good time. Closer and closer he came, edging his target boy into a corner, until with one final lunge he grasped an ankle with one hand, the calf with another, and hauled the giggling boy in.
It was Mthobisi. Caught, he gave up willingly, joining Felipe in laughing at the fun. Floating weightlessly in the sea of balls, Felipe pulled the boy to him, kissing his full, bee-stung lips, tasting the rounded soft flesh of each lip, sucking the boy's tongue and pushing his own tongue into the willing mouth. Felipe pulled the boy to him tightly, his hands running over the firm, brown flesh of the thirteen year old, cupping his buttocks, enjoying the crisp texture of his hair, even as the boy reveled in exploring the loose black curls of the man, in feeling the hardness of his man muscles. Felipe's brown dick was fully engorged now, and rubbing against the iron hard midnight black rod of the thirteen year old. Sliding down the boy's frame, kissing, tonguing, nibbling nipples, licking the abdomen, sucking on the navel, Felipe finally nuzzled the boy's small pubic patch and then engulfed the hard dick in his mouth, sucking hard, bobbing his head up and down while Mthobisi writhed in ecstasy, his fingers embedded in the Spaniard's black curls. The thirteen year old had no control and very quickly yelped, tensing, pushing his rod deep into Felipe's throat while he shot ropes of cum, quivering and gasping.
No sooner had Felipe drained the thirteen year old black dick dry than he turned the boy's body in their weightless space and, reaching down to the tube of lubricant, came up with a dollop of goo to oil up the maroon brown anus and his own rampant lighter brown penis. Felipe inserted one, then two fingers into the rectum, and found that the boy relaxed immediately, having been well fucked and well trained by Little Mandla over the last few days. Sliding upward now, Felipe pressed his cockhead to the anus and pushed. It went in easily, and the two were locked together, Mthobisi crying out in passing pain and enduring pleasure. Felipe immediately began a frantic rhythm of fucking the boy, in and out, as he wrapped his arms around the boy's thin chest, sliding his palms over the slick, thin chest and up and down the curved belly. The two slowly rolled in space as Felipe's hips pistoned in and out, in and out of the boy like a locomotive, and then with a roar he, too, came, pushing his penis hard against the boy's rounded bottom, filling the young African with his spunk.
Felipe held the boy to him tightly for a few minutes as he recovered his breath. Then in a flash he pushed the boy away, pivoted to his right, and lunged upward. Thatho had snuck in to watch the proceedings, hoping to remain unobserved while the Spaniard fucked his brother. He was mistaken. In but a moment, Felipe was upon him as the boy giggled and squealed and Mthobisi taunted his brother in derision, shouting at him to "warn" him in between laughs. Thatho gave up the fight quickly and willingly, and was soon being fondled, kissed and sucked just as his brother was a few moments before.
This time, though, Felipe applied the dollop of lubricant to his own anus, and then another to Thatho's straining fourteen year old purple black erection. The boy's eyes grew wide as he understood that he was about to fuck his first white man. Turning in the buoyant space, Felipe pulled the boy up over his own belly, wrapping his legs around the thin brown back, and guided the rigid, slick, midnight velvet shaft toward his waiting anus. Thatho connected and, with the enthusiasm of youth, pushed with all his might, breaking past the anal sphincter and landing himself all the way inside the Spaniard's bottom. Felipe groaned with the momentary pain, and caught the boy's writhing body in a vise made of his legs, keeping him still until the pain passed. Then, as the two floated in space, Felipe cocked his pelvis to push up and down on the boy's dick, and Thatho picked up the rhythm immediately. Clasping himself tightly to the Spaniard's muscled chest, Thatho began pumping in and out as fast as he could. Felipe slipped his hand in between their bellies and grasped his own cock which had now returned to rock hardness, the prostate stimulated by the steady rhythm of the boy's slamming penis. In and out, in and out the African boy went as he clutched the Spaniard tighter, and the man's hand slid on the coating of lubricant, precum, and sweat between their bodies while he pumped his own penis. Thatho had little more control than his brother, and soon he also cried out, his body clenching and twisting as he shot his fourteen year old cum into the Spaniard's gut, pumping and shooting, pumping and shooting until he slumped exhausted. A minute later, Felipe came a second time, filling the tight space between his and the African boy's body with his white spunk, then enclosed the thin brown body with both his legs and both his arms, running his cum-slick hand over the boy's back. In a moment he felt Mthobisi slide up alongside him and wrap himself and Thatho in an embrace. The three floated like that in lazy ease, held up in a pool of soft lighting and gentle, cool air, laughing and caressing one another, gathering their strength for the adventures that would follow that afternoon and the next day.
Outside, Little Mandla and Simpson turned, laughing, toward each other and exchanged high fives. From their distance, they could not make out the events inside distinctly, but it was clear enough from the movements of the dark brown and olive colored shapes that the Ball Room was a success.
To be continued. Comments welcome: lokiaga@prodigy.net