Date: Thu, 22 Jan 2004 14:56:51 -0800 (PST)
From: explorer4x4sport@yahoo.com
Subject: Drink of Africa

Drink of Africa Copyright 2004
by explorer4x4sport@yahoo.com

All the usual disclaimers apply here.  If male to male sexual
behavior offends you, don't read it.  If this story depicts
behavior that is illegal where you live, don't read it.  This
story is entirely a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to
anyone living or dead.

Please: don't bother to flame me if you hate it, or praise it if
you like it.  I wrote this just for fun and am well aware of its
flaws.  For me, the best thing about erotic stories is often the
seduction, so this story is long on it. If it gets you off or
sends you off on a fantasy of your own, then great.  If it
doesn't, move on.

Drink of Africa

I smiled as I returned to the meeting, my confidence restored.
Beckoning the others to return to the negotiations, I caught the
eye of Dave Taylor, the only black man at the table; he looked at
me oddly and I felt the snap of electricity between us.  Within
the hour, Dave struck the deal, on our company's terms.  The
opposing sides folded quickly, as I knew they would.

Later in the day, Dave dropped by my office to ask a question
about the proceedings.  "What's with you?" Dave said, "When you
left the meeting at the break, I thought we were done for.  Then
you came back and I...I don't know, it was like you...were
everywhere in the room, intimidating the others."

"But not you." I replied.

"No, that's true. I...I...well, never mind.  Good job." Dave
turned to leave.

"You felt me in your head, didn't you?" I said quietly.

Dave spun around and closed the door behind him. "What the fuck is
going on?" he whispered, as he simmered with quiet anger and fear.
Dave and I had worked together on and off for nearly a decade, yet
I had never been to his house, never heard him talk of his
personal life.  I suspected Dave was gay, but he seemed straight
as an arrow.  As he stood over my chair, I could smell the
adrenaline mixed with his sweat, the scent a powerful aphrodisiac.
I decided to take the plunge. I patted the small, intricately
carved wooden vial under my shirt, the one which I have worn since
I was a teen. "Dave, sit down," I began, "I have a story to tell
which I think you'll find interesting."

After my parents divorced, my mother and I moved into an apartment
in the suburbs, but nearer the city.  This was the Midwest in the
mid-70's, and black people were moving into the `burbs, but
weren't really accepted.  Since my mother worked two jobs and was
rarely home, I did all the household chores, like the wash.  On
and off, I would see a nice woman in the laundry room, and chat
with her as we did laundry. I learned her name was Vallie, and she
was from Louisiana.  She worked as a chemist in a local
manufacturing plant.

Now, it's not like I wasn't prejudiced.  My parents never used the
"n" word, but very clearly taught us that black people were
different from us and not as good white people. The other tenants
in the complex didn't like Vallie because she was black, and I've
always had a rebellious streak, so it gave me a kick to buck
tradition by talking to her. And frankly, I was surprised that she
was a chemist.  She was very smart, well-read and articulate and
began to lend me books on subjects she thought I would like. I
began to see that what I was taught about black people was untrue
and started reading more about the history of prejudice.

One day, Vallie mentioned that a distant cousin was coming from
Africa and would be staying with her for a few weeks. It was near
the end of the school year and I needed some extra credit in my
Sociology class, so I thought of interviewing her cousin as the
basis for a research paper. I asked her if I could meet him, and
explained my idea.  Vallie was surprised but agreed to ask him
when he arrived.

A day or so later, Vallie left a note on our door saying I could
come by her place that afternoon to speak with her cousin, whose
name was Tafari.  She would be at work, but Tafari knew I was
coming to interview him.

After school that day, notebook in hand, I went to Vallie's
apartment. When the door opened, I was greeted by a tall, stocky
black man, short afro, handlebar mustache, sideburns - the whole
'Shaft' thing.  I introduced myself, stammering a bit as I did so.
Ted was intimidating, muscular and handsome, with beautiful, full
lips and large, dark eyes that bored into me.  His tight Banlon
shirt and even tighter polyester bell-bottoms revealed his bulk,
including his crotch.  No one I knew dressed like that so I was
staring at his body in a way that I was taught not to.

"So you're little Robby," he said, "you're not so little. I'm Ted,
Vallie's brother.  She said you'd be dropping by." Ted gave me his
hand and pulled me in, putting his arm around my shoulders as he
kicked the door shut.  His body heat was incendiary and his touch
sent a shiver down my spine as I unconsciously melted into him. I
had never thought about a man like that, so I was literally thrown
off-balance. "Hey, Tafari, man, that kid is here to see you."

Ted led me into the living room, where I got my first glimpse of
Tafari.  Darker than Ted, with high cheekbones, deep red lips and
a broad, full nose, Tafari was every inch the African prince - and
at over six feet, there was a lot of him.  Swathed in traditional
dress, he stood to meet me, his robes falling about him like a
god.  I was in awe of this African.  At once I understood the term
"Black Power."

Then, as the white boy I was, I realized the situation: I was
trapped between two large, powerful black men, whose very
masculinity was overwhelming.  I became afraid of them, afraid of
what they might do to me, afraid of them making me pay for all the
sins of my forebears.

I realized that Tafari was speaking to me, his English stilted but
very correct. "...and so I understand from my cousin that you
would like to know what it is like to live in Africa?"

"Yes," I stammered, suddenly breaking into a sweat.  The apartment
was very dark, the drapes almost closed.  There was an odor in the
room, something sweet and pungent - not weed, I knew, but
something that seemed to play with my mind.

"Why don't we sit down," Ted gently nudged me to the sofa where
Tafari was now sitting.  As I sat with Tafari on my right, Ted sat
on an ottoman to my left.

Sitting, I was now not as panicked, so I took a deep breath and
opened my notebook with my prepared questions.  My thought was to
ask a few questions and then get out as fast as I could.  Tafari
reached over and took my notebook, glanced at the questions, then
closed the cover and handed it back to me.

"Why don't I tell you something of my life in Africa; then, if you
still have questions, you can ask me. You are a very handsome
young boy, almost a man."

"Th...thank...thank you," I stuttered, once again feeling
vulnerable and alone.

With a blinding smile, Tafari began to paint the portrait of life
in his home country, vividly describing the wildlife, sunrises,
sunsets, music, food and people - all the wonderful things that
make up Africa.  As he spoke, the scent of the room became the
scent of Africa; I could hear the drums of the native dances, I
could taste the morning air.  I was being transported out of my
body and I began to float above the wilds of the Congo, my clothes
falling away as the winds touched my skin.  I was free and alive
in a way I could never have imagined before.

I felt the soft breath of Tafari in my ear, whispering of love and
desire, asking if I wanted to be one with Africa. I felt Ted's
hands on my abdomen, his naked body behind me, warming me with his
touch, as the sun does on the plains of Africa.  Tafari was on top
of me, his tongue dancing gently around my mouth, offering me the
sweetness of his country.I knew what was happening and I wanted to
stop, to run from them; I was so afraid.  Yet, the vision in my
head was so beautiful, so exciting.

Ted's soft hands were now cradling my head, and in his baritone
voice heavy with lust whispered to me, "Let go.  Trust us, no harm
will come to you, I promise."  With those words, my last resolve
crumbled and I relaxed into both men, the sudden realization in my
heart that I was safe.

Tafari continued the exploration of my mouth, while Ted's fingers
explored my genitals and my anus. I felt Ted's large cock along
the back of my thigh, while Tafari's rigid penis stretched from my
abdomen to my waist.  As I opened my eyes, Tafari was looking at
me, smiling.  His body was ashimmer in the soft light, his muscles
taut and rippling, ready to pounce like a cat. I was lying on Ted,
my head next to his.  I turned toward him where his tongue found
mine.  His full lips covered my small mouth and I drank in the
scent and taste of him.

As I raised my hands to touch Ted's face, I was magically spun
over, and up on my haunches, never breaking the connection with
Ted.  Tafari's mouth neared my ear and he whispered, "You are
about to become one with Africa."  I felt his fingers probing my
anus, the fingers deftly spreading my first sphincter muscle.

Ted separated from my mouth and raised up on his knees, holding my
head in his hands and forced my head into his crotch.  "Smell me;
I want you to remember how a man smells." As I put my nose in his
crotch, I inhaled the most beautiful scent of man. "Now suck my
thumb." I began to suck rhythmically on Ted's finger, all while Tafari was opening my anus for his large, black member.  Ted slowly brought
his cock to my lips, the cherry red head slick with his ooze.  I
felt Tafari raise his cock to my hole and I whispered, "Yes, yes,
now."

In one fluid movement, Tafari's cock slid into my anus, while
Ted's cock began its journey down my throat.  Tafari's cock caused
a sharp pain, which made me gasp, and Ted's cock sank even deeper.
Ted moaned softly, and Tafari laughed - a deep, guttural laugh
that comes from the pleasure of conquest.  My conscious self
floated away from my body and I could see the two black men taking
their pleasure in my flesh.  Both of them were softly caressing
me, their umber hands in sharp contrast to my pale golden skin.
Each of them was speaking soothing, relaxing words, coaxing my
soul back into my body, so that I could experience the pleasurable
essence of their union.

As I came back to consciousness with a start, I looked up at Ted,
who wiped away the tears falling on my cheek and smiled as he
licked my tears from his thumb.  I felt their rhythm see-saw
through me, Ted thrusting as Tafari pulled out of me and vice
versa.  With each motion, I could swear that each man's already
enormous member was getting longer.

Almost as soon as I had this thought, Tafari reached between my
legs and began to milk my penis and testicles.  This sudden jolt
of sensation sent my mind reeling.  I experienced the complete joy
and comfort of submitting totally to a god.  My brain, already
crazed with a lust I have not known since, exploded in ecstasy.

In this sublime moment, Tafari's cock transformed into a serpent,
worming its way into my body and met with Ted's serpent in the pit
of my stomach.  Each of them began to breed, and I felt their
essence fill me.  As their tormented screams filled my ears, I
lost all consciousness, drifting into a dark, warm, wet abyss,
sighing with a peace I had never known.

I thought I was dead.  I couldn't seem to breathe, and my eyes
were glued shut.  From deep within this coma, I struggled to reach
up, past the comfort, eager to be born again.  I gasped and my
eyes fought for focus.  I was so thirsty, I craved moisture.

"Water, please, something," I rasped.  Ted's body came into view.
Still naked, his reddish-black cock glistened, hanging down
between his legs. He gently raised his thick member, and placed
its soft foreskin nipple in my mouth. "Drink," he soothed, once
again cradling my head.  His warm, pungent effluence filled me as
I nursed on his foreskin; I was as a child with a fever, grateful
and relieved by the slaking of my thirst.

My head cleared and Ted removed his cock from my mouth. Exhausted
now, I realized that Tafari was behind me, cradling me in his
arms, his thick cock, soft now, still buried inside me. As one
hand gently caressed my body from my thigh to my nipple, his mouth
was at my ear chanting an African blessing. Ted lay down, his
curly chest hair scraping across my cheek as he wrapped his arms
around us.

Oh, how they smelled!  Their aroma was heady and I knew that this
smell, these feelings, these were the essence of man, of power, of
control. As a white boy, I felt weak and ashamed next to these
men, like Adam in the presence of God, aware now of my
inadequacies.  While my tears began to flow, Tafari spoke to me
from deep inside my body.

"You will never be alone.  As we have bred you, you are now one
with Africa.  Our essence will be a part of you always." His last
word seemed to ring in my ears and I sank again into darkness.

With a start, I awoke, snapping my eyes open.  I was in my room.
The sun was shining and my mother was gently knocking on my door.

"How is your fever?" she asked, coming to the bed and feeling my
forehead.  "It seems all gone.  How do you feel?"

"Fine," I said, wondering how I got here.  The previous night's
events were vivid and I could feel my anus, still slightly sore
from the onslaught. "It couldn't have been a dream," I wondered,
not realizing I was speaking out loud.

"A dream? Well no, honey, you were working on that paper for
school, interviewing that man from Africa.  Don't you remember?"

"Uh, yeah, sort of." I responded.

"Well, that nice woman's brother, Ned or something, he brought you
down, said you'd just broken out in a fever. He was very
apologetic and helped me get you into bed.  I must say I was a
little nervous about having one of `them' in the house.  He was so
large, and so dark...well, God knows what could have happened.
But you were so out of it, I was glad of the help."

On my nightstand was my school notebook.  I opened it to find
pages and pages of notes on the people of Tafari's region, African
continent issues, imperialism - more than enough material for my
paper.

"Oh, and honey - that man said the other man gave you a small
souvenir of Africa, a necklace or something.  You're wearing it."
Mother turned to leave, "You rest now and I'll bring you some soup
before I leave for work.  I've already called the school that
you're ill."

After she went out, I reached for the necklace and found a small
braided leather cord.  On it was a small wooden vial, carved with
symbols I didn't recognize.  As I reached to find a clasp, my
notebook slid to the floor and the pages turned.  I stared at what
was on the page.

"In doubt, drink and you shall be restored" were written next to a
drawing of the symbols carved into the vial I wore.  I scrambled
to remove the necklace but there was no clasp. I pulled on the
vial and it magically separated from the cord.  Looking at it
closely, I saw a break in the wood. Twisting it first to the left,
then the right, the top popped up and I could see a small vial
inside, filled with a swirling, milky liquid that appeared alive.
I smiled, once again hearing Tafari's whispered chant; it wasn't a
blessing, but a covenant meant to protect me always.  When I could
not go on, he and Ted could fill me again, restoring me. Their
essence would always be with me, their strength, courage and
force.

"So you see Dave, this vial is filled with..." I broke off as Dave
stood over me. I could see the tumescence in his crotch, a
spreading dark spot below on the black wool of his pants.  I
looked up to find Dave smiling, pulling a small, intricately
carved wooden vial from under his shirt.