Date: Fri, 21 Jan 2005 12:41:02 +0800
From: James MacMannis <james_macmannis@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aboriginal Farmboy / aboriginal_farmboy_13

Aboriginal Farmboy 13

Author: James MacMannis <james_macmannis@hotmail.com>
Subject: aboriginal-farmboy-13 (adult-youth, interracial, rural)
Archive; 'Aboriginal Farmboy #13'{James MacMannis}(BB, interr, rural)[]
Homosexual, young male sex
Adult-youth
Interracial
Rural setting


ABORIGINAL FARMBOY - PART THIRTEEN

Copyright (c) 2004 by James MacMannis
This document may be downloaded for your personal pleasure; however, you may
not place the document on a website or reproduce the story for distribution
in any media whatsoever without my permission.  Please email me at
james_macmannis@hotmail.com with constructive comments or criticism.  You
may also wish to join the Aboriginal Farmboy egroup at
aboriginal_farmboy-subscribe@yahoogroups.com.


We enjoyed the festivities of Christmas as one family.  Connie and Wayan had
moved into my house for the holiday, allowing us to eat together, play
together, relax together and, generally, have a great celebration.  My
sister, her husband and my nephew also joined us for Christmas Day and
Boxing Day, giving them the opportunity to get to know the boys better.  We
did the same again for New Year, although this time without my sister's
family, each of us expressing the shared wish that the coming year would be
full of the best we had ever experienced.

Usually my nephew, Murray, stayed with me for several weeks of the Christmas
school holidays, enjoying a little bit of freedom from the city life he was
otherwise constrained to live.  This year, however, his school had arranged
a live-in course in pilot tuition and aircraft skills.  Because of his
ambition to become an airline pilot, Murray had been chosen from the
students to attend this special summer school.  It was a great honour and I
was immensely proud of the recognition he was receiving.  Murray planned to
come and stay with me later in the year, perhaps for the Easter holidays
when I would need an extra pair of hands on the farm.

With all the boys at home working became a source of pleasure.  January is a
busy month for a horticulturalist because of the number of tasks that must
be complete in order for the trees to stay alive and productive in the hot
summer months.  Olive trees are fruiting during summer and the fruit are
picked around Easter.  Connie had worked out an ideal program for tree
husbandry, and had apportioned tasks to each one of us.  On top of that, he
had worked out a program with Chris for the vegetable garden so that it
would also remain productive throughout the hot months.  We had constructed
some steel supports over parts of the garden and stretched shade cloth
across the plots so that the vegetables were protected from the heat.  In
this way, Chris was able to establish varieties of vegetables not usually
grown in summer.  Nick's primary responsibility was the chooks.  We had
increased the original flock of 6 or 8 birds to 30, buying new stock to
swell the numbers.  They free ranged in the vegetable garden each day,
keeping weeds and bugs to a minimum and contributing their natural
fertiliser to the soil.  Nick would release them in the mornings, care for
them during the day and then lock them up again in the afternoon as
protection against foxes and other predators.

Until I had bought Nick his motorcycle he had usually walked up to their
property through the backcountry, using the new firebreak roads.  He would
leave home early in the day and often did not return till mid afternoon, the
hot sun beating on to the red soil and sharp rocks.  Nick had very tough
feet and he could walk over the exposed ground and not feel any of the
radiated heat, just the same as the boy who first turned up at my door some
six or seven months previously with ice on his feet from walking in the
minus temperatures of a deep frost.  I am mostly barefoot, by choice, and,
like the boys, my feet are hardened to almost anything nature can hand out.
One thing I find difficult now that I am older is the extreme heat, and I
usually revert to wearing sandals if I have to venture into the farm in the
heat of the day.  I read somewhere that the ground temperature, when it is
hot, can be often as much as 15 or 20 degrees more than the ambient shade
temperature.  That being the case, Nick was comfortable walking over ground
that was in between 60 and 70 degrees temperature!  I know from when I was
younger that Nikolas, Nick's father, and myself would work the red sandy
paddocks of the Sandplains Pastoral Company barefoot, and in summer and we
would not notice the temperatures that were much hotter there.  In those
days we used Fahrenheit temperature, as well as inches and ounces and all
those difficult measurements we used back in the days before decimalisation,
and in that scale it was not unusual to live with ground temperatures of
over 160 degrees!  I was personally gratified to see that Nick, Chris and
Connie (and Wayan) kept the family tradition of barefooted-ness.  They would
have made their father proud of their feet, just as I, as the stand-in
father, was.

Now that rapid transport was available, Nick would work in both the garden
and on my property according to Connie's program.  Chris also worked in
both, although more often than not he was at the garden now that I had
plenty of other assistance on my farm.  Wayan worked alongside all of us,
showing that his smaller stature meant little in terms of work output.  He
had darkened in colour with the increased exposure to the harsh Australian
sun, his skin tone much more like dark golden treacle than the honey colour
it had been when I first met him.  Thus the summer progressed, Connie, Wayan
and myself working together during the day at my farm and Chris and Nick at
the vegetable plot.

Australia Day falls on January 26th each year.  It is the day when
Australians celebrate the federation of the country.  We are extremely proud
of the fact that we won our independence peacefully over a negotiation
table, rather than through force as most other countries have, and Australia
Day is marked with a number of significant events.  Local town and shire
councils sponsor free concerts and barbeques to which all residents are
invited.  Each state has a celebratory fireworks display, the largest of all
being in Sydney Cove and around the massive Harbour Bridge spanning the
waters between the city of Sydney and North Sydney.  In Perth, the Australia
Day celebrations culminate in the largest fireworks spectacular of the year,
arranged on the Swan River right in the middle of the city and from some
city buildings and bridges.  The Skyshow, as it is called, is a and event
coordinated by simultaneous broadcast on FM radio and includes aircraft
displays, laser light spectaculars, dramatic contemporary and patriotic
music and live commentary, all interspersed with pyrotechnics.  However,
during the afternoon is the presentation of the Australia Day Awards where
notable citizens and members of the military, police and emergency services
are recognised for various acts of courageousness and benevolence in the
community.  It was to this presentation that we had received an engraved
invitation so that we might witness Chris accepting his bravery award.

I had booked a hotel family room for us so that we could attend the
presentation ceremony and stay in the city to see the Skyshow that night.
The streets of Perth are closed to everything except pedestrian traffic and
emergency vehicles for the Skyshow and I knew that driving tonight would be
out of the question.  We booked in to the hotel and changed into hired
formal clothing we had rented for the occasion.  Much to the amusement of
the gentlemen operating the business, the boys had been fitted with suits
and their broad bare feet had been somehow fitted into shiny leather shoes.
I had formal wear of my own, a residue of my earlier years in corporate
business.

A taxi collected us at the front of the hotel and delivered us to Government
House, a magnificent rambling Victorian structure situated in the middle of
Perth in some acreage of parkland and cultivated English gardens.  The
invitation I showed gave us entry to the vice-regal residence and we were
directed towards a large pavilion near an ornamental lake where refreshments
were being served.  We were all uncomfortable with the hot clothing but most
of all the boys were suffering the stiff shoes that cramped their feet.
Coffee and a snack did little to ease the pain we were suffering.

The award ceremony was held in the formal ballroom of Government House.
Dignitaries and other notable people were seated along side us and on the
raised stage.  The ceremony proceeded with flourish and it was not long
before Chris was paraded in front of the assemblage to have his citation
read.  I saw the Governor speak to Chris when he presented the Award, but it
was a private comment and we could not hear his words, and pinned a medal to
Chris's neat suit.  Polite applause from the audience acknowledged the award
and Chris made his way back to where we sat.  Afterwards, when refreshments
were served, he proudly passed the citation to us to read and we ogled the
shiny medal on his chest.  A short time later I was pleasantly surprised to
have the Governor tap me on the shoulder and ask if he could speak privately
with us for a few moments.  He turned out to be a decent sort of a chap,
very down to earth despite his high military rank and vice-regal position.
He chatted comfortably with the boys, asking each one what they were doing
with their lives and taking a particular interest in the horticultural and
gardening activities we were undertaking on our farms.  Somehow or another
the matter of smoking came up in the conversation, it may have been from him
or from one of us, and the Governor, with a quick glance over his shoulder,
quietly said "Follow me, fellas."

We ducked between some draped curtains at one side of the magnificent
ballroom through a semi-concealed door that led into a passageway.  With a
few twists and turns we soon found ourselves in a small courtyard, quite
concealed from the public eye, where a pleasantly cool pool added to the
beauty of a table and chair setting.  This was obviously a haunt of the
Governors, because on the table were a packet of his cigarettes and an
ashtray.  "We can't stay away from the crowd for long, but please help
yourselves to a smoke," he said as he passed the packet around and then lit
a cigarette for himself.  "Do you mind if we kick of our shoes, sir?"  Nick
asked.  "Not at all.  I was never comfortable when I was a young fella and
had to start wearing shoes.  I still look forward to kicking mine off every
day."  Continuing the conversation, we enjoyed the comfort these few moments
gave us before we headed back into the reception.

When we eventually finished at Government House we made our way back to the
hotel that was conveniently located on a quiet road near the river.  In the
room we all stripped our uncomfortable clothing off and lay on the big beds
to enjoy the cool of the air conditioning for a few moments.  When we
dressed again it was in comfortable casual wear that would be suitably warm
for the breezes coming off the river as the night wore on.  We had bought
folding chairs, an esky filled with ice and cans of beer and coke and a bag
of snacks to carry to the foreshore so we could watch the show in comfort,
and these we collected from the wagon in preparation for the evening.

The place we found to set up our viewing spot was right near the riverbank
and not much more than a kilometre from the hotel.  We could have sat closer
to the hotel, but the newspaper had recommended certain places as providing
the best overall views.  It turned out to be a good choice, because as the
show progressed we could see all the different events and various locations
around the city opposite us on the far bank of the river.  The night
remained still for several hours, making the river into a gigantic
reflecting pond, doubling the effect of the dazzling display we watched.
Perhaps the most startling moment, and certainly the most emotional for me
and possibly for everyone gathered along the river bank that night, was when
a darkened helicopter slowly flew up the river before us with an extremely
large Australian flag hung below it, spotlighted from each bank of the
river, while the hundreds of thousands of proud attendees joined with the
broadcast orchestral music and lifted their voices to sing out the stirring
words of the National Anthem.

Australians all let us rejoice
For we are young and free
We've golden soil and wealth for toil,
Our home is girt by sea:
Our land abounds in nature's gifts
Of beauty rich and rare,
In history's page let every stage
Advance Australia fair,
In joyful strains then let us sing
Advance Australia fair.

If there are any readers who are unfamiliar with the tune to the Australian
National Anthem, you can hear me play an arrangement I wrote of it on the
Aboriginal Farmboy Yahoo Group website.

Our night at the hotel was relaxed, we being comfortably refreshed with a
coffee on the balcony while thousands of other revellers made their noisy
way home from the Skyshow.  We slept soundly, Connie and Wayan in one bed
with Chris, Nick and myself in the other, all too tired after a busy day to
contemplate any other activity than intense research of the inner eyelid.
In the morning we woke freshly and found that we all had particular needs to
be taken care of.  As discreetly as it is possible, with five people in the
one room and all within arms length of each other, we managed to satisfy
each other.

It struck me that these boys observed a strict protocol of never being showy
about their sexuality.  What they did with me or with each other was totally
private, even if we, over a period of time, all enjoyed some form of
intimacy with each other.  I never saw Chris or Nick share any sexual
contact with Connie and Wayan, although prior to Wayan and myself the
younger boys had always slept with Connie.  Connie and Wayan did not ever
try to interfere with the relationship between Chris, Nick and myself,
although there were occasions when the boys were away that they shared my
bed.  Even between Chris and Nick there never seemed to be any private
interplay except when I was with them.  It was the way things were, our
unspoken code of ethics.

Nakedness, of course, was not an issue for any of us.  The five of us were
frequently naked, day or night, as it was a natural and comfortable way of
life for us, particularly during the summer months when unnecessary clothing
meant unnecessary heat.  Being naked around each other meant that we
occasionally saw another hard penis, but that did not cross the invisible
line of sexual protocol that was observed.  We had never talked about it,
and it had never been any kind of burden, it just was the behavioural
pattern we observed.  So it was that on this morning we conducted ourselves
privately within the domain of our separate beds: Connie and Wayan together,
the boys and I together.  The only indication of sexual activity was the
movement beneath the bedcovers that revealed activity other than sleeping.
None of the boys, or myself, are noisy comers.  When we reached our climaxed
by various means of stimulation there was nothing that revealed the event,
although if there had been an independent observer he may have noticed a
rapid increase in breathing rates for a short time.  At the end of it we
showered and dressed for the day.

Breakfast in the hotel restaurant was the last task before we set off again
for home.  In the city we saw the early morning crews dismantling stands and
equipment from the Skyshow working alongside countless cleaners fossicking
around the mounds of garbage left behind from the crowds.  The suit hire
shop was just opening when we pulled in to their car park, so we gladly
returned their fine apparel, the boys particularly pleased to see the last
of the shoes!  I reminded Nick that it would not be long before he would
have to start wearing them again for school, the new term beginning in just
a few weeks time.

There is no postal delivery to either of our properties.  We had to collect
our mail at the general store in the village, and we did so today on the way
home.  Among the usual collection of bills and advertising blurb I was
surprised to find a brightly stamped airmail envelope from Indonesia.  The
boys were quite taken with the huge monetary figures on the postage stamps,
but I explained to them that the Indonesian currency was worth something
like 8,000 rupiah to one Australian dollar, so the thousands of rupiahs on
the stamps equated to just a few dollars worth of postage.  We unpacked the
car and the boys put on coffee when we got home, leaving me to open the
newly arrived letter.

When I had completed my degree in electronic engineering I worked for some
years in Australia and Indonesia with an international concern installing a
new microwave transmission system.  This was, of course, in the days before
digital technology and satellite links.  The work was very interesting and
took me to some very out-of-the-way places in both countries.  It also gave
me a lot of contacts with government officials and private companies that I
may not have otherwise been able to establish as a young man.  By various
means I was able to set up my own technology company, at first dealing with
clients in Western Australia's newly developed mining industry, then
gradually expanding to encompass some corporate clients with branches all
around the country.  Without trying, it seemed, my company was growing
faster than I could cope with alone.  There came a time when I handed over
the management to some better skilled at such things than I was, and I
continued monitoring the ever-expanding nature of data and voice
communications, including the then-new digital technology and related fibre
optic transmission systems.

Indonesia, despite the brilliance of many of it's people, does not seem to
have ever gotten their act together enough to progress to becoming a modern
country.  Partly the problem lies with the millions of people within the
country who are not well educated and certainly very poor.  The country did,
however, need to maintain their growing need for modern telecommunications.
The opportunity arose to tender for certain works that were required, mainly
associated with military or government branches, and my company was
successful.  Completion of these jobs led to the establishment of a thriving
business in that country.  I began searching out staffing and, to my dismay,
found that the highest educated young men fell a long way short of the
requirements I placed on my technicians.

Malang, in East Java, is a university city.  I could not guess how many
institutions have set themselves up there with the word 'university'
appearing somewhere in their name.  Among these are just a few that have
reputable staff and good facilities, probably the two best being the IKIP
(Institute of Technology) and the Universitas Brawijaya.  IKIP is a
government funded school and Brawijaya a privately sourced school.  I met
with the board and staff of both places and we worked out a joint agreement
where I would place selected students with them for advanced teaching in
technology so that they could graduate with a worthwhile (for me at least)
degree in electronics.  In return I would fund the schools for the
facilities they would need, including where necessary new buildings, and
would provide visiting staff to act as specialist teachers.

This program worked very well and continues to work now, although I no
longer have the responsibility of paying for the facilities, each
institution attracting more than enough students to have made the programs
self-supporting many years ago.  Within the first few years we had our first
graduates and welcomed them into the ranks of our business.  They
established themselves very well and kept the extremely high standard of
work that I insisted on.  Each year we would add more students to the
program and each year more graduates would be taken into the fold of the
business, although I never placed any conditions that these sponsored
students had to seek employment with my company at the end of their studies.
  Many of the young Indonesian men were happy to work for me, nonetheless,
and in that way the staffing had been replaced over a period of time until
all the Indonesian operations were manned by indigenous staff, Australian
technicians only being called in for specialist tasks.  I had maintained an
active role in the Indonesian operations until a few years before when I had
purchased this farm on which I intended to retire.

The letter I now held in my hand was from the director of an Indonesian
electronics company that wanted to supply a new communications network to
the Indonesian Army.  It was a massive undertaking: there are over 13,000
islands in the Indonesian Archipelago and hundreds of them would require
some form of installation or another.  They wanted my company to provide
them with the technical expertise to establish the network and then maintain
it.  It appeared, on the face of it, to be a good opportunity - low capital
outlay with long term guaranteed returns.  I would have to go to Indonesia
to assess the situation, suss out the principals of the other company and
get a handle on the variables that would eventually make up the workload.

In the past year I had not spent a lot of effort in managing the Indonesian
business operations, preferring instead to work my farm now that I had a
family of my own boys to care for.  It was a tribute to the fine staff of
men I had trained there and entrusted with the business that I could
comfortably leave the running of the operations on their hands.  In the past
I had often worked in that country for anything up to twelve months
stretches, so this was the first long period of time I had not been back to
Indonesia since I had founded the company.  I had been receiving regular
reports on the business and the work being undertaken and I had corresponded
with the team to guide their overall effort.  But all of this had been at
arms length and had not involved any great new ventures.  My team in
Indonesia were all technicians, not overly skilled at business matters, and
for me to expect them to handle the negotiations of a high level scheme like
this new proposal was unrealistic.  There really was no choice but for me to
go there and get this new thing off the ground.  In my mind I could see the
possibility of working in Indonesia for a year or so and then letting the
business continue again in it's own momentum when I returned to the farm.

I decided to call the boys together to let them know what had been offered
to me and for us to discuss the ramifications of it.  They were stonily
silent when I finished explaining the content of the letter and the
possibility of me going to Indonesia.  I had expected a comment one way or
another, but to be met with absolute hush unnerved me.  The whole prospect
excited me so to have such a leaden reception made unreasonable anger surge
in my mind.  Fortunately, before I said anything, it suddenly became clear
to me what the problem was.  "Do you boys think that this is going to be the
end of our relationship?" I confronted them.  Chris was first to reply.  "It
looks like you are going to dump us and go off and do this thing."  I was
shocked to see tears welling up in his eyes as he quickly fled from the
room.  Nick was equally upset, although Connie and Wayan did not appear to
be so distraught.  I jumped up to go and look for Chris.

At the back of my house is a little rocky hill; useless for anything except
the vantage point it created.  I had built a small gazebo on top of this
knoll on an elevated platform and it provided a cool refuge to sit and
admire the view down the valley on a hot day like this one had been.  Chris
was there, as I expected he might be, standing on the platform looking over
the farm.  He had lit a cigarette and was looking away from me, smoking, as
I approached.  I could hear him sniffling his sobs as his distress fermented
even more.  He would not have heard me come up behind him, but certainly
would have felt the vibrations of my tread on the stairway up to the
platform.  I pressed myself into his back and wrapped my arms around his
slim body.  "Chris, I am not ever thinking about leaving you.  Sure I will
be away for a while, but you will be here doing your thing and I will be
back soon."

Chris was unresponsive to my embrace; his only movement to put the cigarette
to his lips and draw savagely on the smoke then blow a thick stream into the
afternoon breeze.  I pulled him tighter to me.  "What is the matter Chris?
Why are you so upset about this?  I hoped you would be excited that such an
opportunity for expansion of the business has been presented to us."
Seeking solace in the cigarette, he smoked without replying, his body
shaking with the emotion that had consumed him.  I felt hot tears dropping
on to my arms and he seemed not to care they were being shed.  My own
emotions were in turmoil, not knowing which way to handle the matter.  I
could do nothing but hold him until he was again in control of his thoughts
and would talk to me.

"You are going to drop us cold, aren't you?" Chris finally stammered.  "Just
like that you will walk out an leave us.  You don't even want to care about
how much you mean to me and Nick and Connie."  I hugged him closer to me, if
that were possible.  "Why on earth would you think that?  You boys are the
most precious thing in the world to me.  Chris, you know I love you more
than I can say, more than any words can express.  I could no more drop you
than I could cut off my own head.  This is not an end for us; it is just
another phase of our lives.  Please stop thinking horrible thoughts long
enough to see this situation for what it really is."

While I had been talking with Chris, Nick and Connie had come up from the
house and climbed up to the gazebo.  Connie came over and stood behind me,
his hands kneading my shoulder muscles.  "I think you need to know, Dad,
that you are the entire world to these boys.  They know you more than they
knew our father and they love you more than they could have ever loved him.
Nick and Chris have told me their greatest fear is that you will be taken
away from them just like our father was taken away from us.  None of us want
that to happen."  Nick came around his older brother and squeezed himself in
alongside Chris, clambering to hold me.  Both of them had broken out in
uncontrolled sobbing, and Connie, too, was having trouble keeping himself in
control.

I had never realised that any action of mine could be perceived as a threat
to the lives of these boys.  I suppose I had never permitted myself to think
I was that important to them, either.  They were utterly fundamental to my
life, but I had not allowed for the fact that it was reciprocal.  "Boys, I
love you more than anything.  I am deeply moved to think that I mean so much
to you as well.  But we have to be practical in this arrangement, and part
of that practicality means an awareness that sometimes I have to deal with
responsibilities elsewhere and we will be separated for a time.  I can't
hold you boys to myself forever, and when it is necessary for me to go away,
you can't hold me back either.  We will only be separated by a physical
distance, not by an emotional one.  I will only ever be a phone call or an
email away.  You can come up and see me in Indonesia and I can come here to
see you.  Can I suggest we don't dwell on it right now, but we go on with
our lives until such time as I really do have to go away?"

The boys stopped their crying after a short while and we made our way back
to the house.  Wayan had stayed there to prepare dinner, telling me later
that he did not eve want to interfere in matters that were between the boys
and me.  I respected his judgement and wisdom on the matter.  The evening
meal was a sober occasion.  Nobody talked much except for Wayan who
recounted his preparation for return to university in a week or so.  He
would be moving back to the college accommodation to be in proximity to the
campus, coming home here on weekends and for holidays.  Nick half-heartedly
began telling us about some features of his new year at school, but gave up
after just a few sentences.  It was not until we had cleaned up the dishes
and were drinking coffee with our cigarettes on the front veranda that Chris
finally made a comment.

"James, I am sorry I reacted like I did when you told us this thing about
Indonesia.  I really was very upset by the news.  I love you so much and do
not want to think about us ever being apart.  But I did not think about your
side of the situation.  You have done so much for us in these last eight
months and I realise it has cost you a lot of money.  We can't repay you
except in little bits here and there.  But we will always love you.  I can
let you go.  I don't want to, but I know that I have to for a little while.
You have had your business interests up there and you have almost ignored
them to look after us, so it is time for you to sort them out.  I am sorry I
made such a fuss."  His eyes were moist, but he was not weeping and his
voice was steady while he said these things to me.  I had no reply: enough
had been said so I took his hand and led him and Nick into the bedroom.
Connie and Wayan would clean up and retire to their cottage.

I undressed quickly and turned back to the boys.  Nick was closest, so I
went to him and began removing his shirt and shorts.  Chris tried to undress
himself, but I asked him to wait so I could do it when I had finished Nick.
Soon, both boys were naked before me.  I cuddled them to me, their faces
meeting my chest and nuzzling into the scattered hairs there, their dangling
penises pressing against my thighs.  We stood there in silence, revelling in
the proximity of each other that had now become an every-day part of our
lives, yet was still peculiarly fresh and new each time we were able to be
together this way.  I drank in the scent of their soft dark hair; the faint
smells of their manly body sweat mixed with tobacco.  I lapped up the
tactile delight of their smooth skin, a dark coffee colour because of the
summer sun and the low ambient lighting of the bedroom.  I enveloped them
both in the invisible shroud of my deepest love for them, letting the fibres
of this love become a strong binding that tied my heart even closer to
theirs.  I cried for the separation that would come and for the joy of an
eventual reunion, the tears unnoticed by the boys who continued their own
fusion with my body.  I felt the stiffness begin simultaneously; Chris on my
right leg and Nick on the left leg, their penises inflating with a desire to
express the love we felt for each other.  Mine responded and I took them
both to the bed where we laid down.  Our penises now sprang to rigid
attention, each straining against the tightened hood of skin surrounding the
distended heads.

Chris and Nick ground their penises into me, wriggling their way up my body
until our faces were together and their lips found mine, each kissing
passionately at the side of my mouth they faced.  Two tongues found their
way into my mouth and fought a minor skirmish with my own tongue.  Two hands
found my penis and together began gently rubbing it in unison.  Although the
sensations were pleasant, I needed to explore a more demanding release of
our sexual need this night.  I lifted the hands from me and directed each
owner to lay in a certain way, myself completing the arrangement that I
wanted to achieve.  I was lying on my side across the top of the bed, Chris
lying on his side forming another side of a triangle and Nick the final
side.  My mouth found Chris's delectable penis, moist from the precum he was
producing, and I explored it with my tongue.  Nick had immediately latched
himself on to my penis and was working his mouth on my shaft.  Chris, I
could see had found his brother's penis and was duplicating my actions on
him.  I loved the steamy smell of Chris.  He was never musky - I guess
because he never wore confining underwear - but he exuded a strong aroma of
maleness that never failed to excite my desire of him.  I thrust my tongue
into his foreskin and slurped out the sweet juices there.  Unable to contain
my need of him, I swallowed him deeply into my mouth, reaching his buttocks
and pulling him firmly into my throat.

Nick had totally buried my penis in his mouth and was tantalising me with
the exquisite swallowing movement of his constricting throat.  He had
grabbed me, just like I had taken Chris, and pulled me strongly into his
orifice.  No longer able to see Chris's actions, I could not tell if he was
doing the same to his brother but guessed that he was.  My vision was filled
with the crisp black hairs of Chris's pubic region seen from below, his
testicles already drawn up into his crotch.  The steel-like shaft of his
penis was out of sight, lodged as it was far inside my mouth.  I felt his
throbbing quicken as the urgency of our coupling began to overtake the
initial exploratory moves.  My own penis was being subject to Nicks' clever
stimulation as he practiced his special performance on me.  Nick suddenly
lurched, his whole body convulsing with the spasm of his ejaculation.  If it
were possible, he embedded himself even further on my penis, forcing me to
my own orgasm.  Both these massive orgasms triggered yet another, and Chris
sent torrents of his semen cascading down my throat as he bucked and writhed
his way into me.  The three of us kept our positions for an eternity, the
pumping and squirming continuing as we pulled and pushed in this tryst of
love, time becoming irrelevant, the world floating into a different
perspective as we gave and received that which was ours to share in this
most intimate manner.

Dismantling the pattern that had been the means of our liberation, we now
found ourselves tightly embracing, savouring the sweetness of the moments we
had welded into a block of ecstasy.  I wondered again at the amazing
transformation that these boys had brought to me, taking my contented life
and turning it into one of immense bliss, full to overflowing with the young
love that ebbed and flowed around me.  Both Chris and Nick remained hard,
their need for release still unsatisfied although my own was sated.  I
pulled them to me and held them in a firm embrace as they humped into my
legs, their stiff tools working against my skin to give them another orgasm.
  Nick pounded fast and arrived at his second climax quickly, pouring out
another measure of his juice on my leg before he sagged alongside me in his
clenching embrace.  Chris found his brother's ejaculate on my leg and
smeared it onto the inside of my thighs and over his own penis before he
eased himself up on to me and began his long thrusts into the now-lubricated
cleft of my thighs.  Each lunge upwards would bring Chris close enough to
kiss me fully on the mouth, until he worked his way right up to the apex of
my legs, his penis now rubbing along the base of my pelvic join below my
balls.  He covered me with his deep kisses, his tongue wrestling with mine
as he neared his final phase.

Suddenly the potency of his orgasm clobbered him.  I had felt Chris
experience some mighty orgasms throughout our relationship, but this one was
different.  His penis bored into my skin, seeming to need the most
constrictive crevasse that would stimulate his desperate need.  Chris,
normally a quiet person in his climax, let go of my mouth and gasped in
lung-fulls of air before letting out an explosive grunt.  Semen erupted from
him, hot and hard, the jets of his fluid bucketing over my genitals as he
continued shoving into me.  Nick, aware that an extraordinary event was
taking place beside him, looked up as his brother continued to blast in a
sustained orgasm that astonished me.  Chris had lost the ability to control
his discharge, and each time he moved another wave of ejaculate would pour
from him.  Nick reached up and stroked the skin on his brother's back,
feeling the intensity of the orgasm rock through his body, feeling the
shaking of every nerve and cell as the powerful orgasm coursed through him.
I felt at one with him, my body reeling with the onslaught of his sexual
culmination, receiving the tokens of his love as they gushed from him.

Chris collapsed.  He could not even lift himself off me to lie in the bed.
Nick, fully recovered from his own recent orgasm, helped me ease his brother
down so that he lay beside me.  I picked up a towel from the bed head and
wiped the excess of fluids from Chris's now limp body, his breathing ragged
as he tried, but failed, to regain consciousness.  Nick took the towel and
began wiping around my thighs and under my testicles.  The quantity of fluid
was really amazing.  Chris was always a copious ejaculator, but, even so,
the amount was within reasonable bounds of expectation for a healthy young
man.  This discharge, however, was quite extraordinary.  I did not think it
was possible for one person to produce such an amount of semen in one
orgasm.  Nick paused in his cleaning duties and said "Wow, that was some
load!  Poor bugger has shot his ball off.  Is he going to be okay?"

I had no way of knowing if Chris would be okay or not, but I suspected this
was nothing more than some subconsciously triggered event, perhaps his
body's way of dealing with the shock that he had sustained in learning about
my prospective departure.  Even as I contemplated the event I heard his
breathing returning to normal and could see his pulse rate stabilising.  The
magnitude of his orgasm was receding but, no doubt, the recovery would take
a good sleep to be effective.  I was overawed by what had happened, knowing
that is his special way Chris had displayed to me the outpouring of his
deepest love to me.

It would have been impossible for me to sleep, so, thinking he would want to
go to sleep himself, I said to Nick that I was going to go out and make a
cup of tea.  "Can I join you, Dad?" he asked, slipping out of the bed and
pulling the sheet up to cover his brother.  We went to the kitchen, arms
draped around each other, and made tea.  Naked, we sat on the veranda, side
by side, the cool breeze caressing our warm skin.  We lit cigarettes and
smoked quietly, immersed in our own thoughts about our futures and
ourselves.  The night was dark, the new moon already set, the only
indication of any other being on the planet being a distant glimmer of light
from the cottage where Connie and Wayan had yet to retire for the night.

"Dad, I know I have said this before.  I just want to say again that I love
you so much.  It will hurt when you go away, but you can never leave my
heart.  There will always be a part of you inside me somewhere and I will
always feel that."  He let his hand find my penis, surprising me by
stiffening to his touch.  Gently he massaged me, his fingertips providing a
means of communication where words could not.  He stood and turned to face
me, his rampant penis pointing at me.  He arranged himself into a sitting
position on my lap, his feet beside me, his penis pushing bluntly against my
own as our pelvic regions joined.  In this position his height disadvantage
was nonexistent and we sat facing each other eyeball to eyeball.  The dim
light from the kitchen showed just enough of him for me to see that Nick was
thoroughly tuned in to the intimacy I wanted to enjoy with him.  Our mouths
melted into each other as we kissed, his eyes glinting in the light told me
that he was looking deeply into mine.

Our embrace intensified and his penis ground into mine as we again sought to
became one.  Nick was a most passionate lover, his age belying the maturity
he displayed.  With great gentleness and care he moved himself over me,
gyrating in such a way as to stimulate an uncontrollable orgasm from me, the
semen squirting from me and coating his stomach and penis with sticky fluid.
  Without once breaking eye contact with me, Nick eased himself back enough
to get his hand between us.  Using my semen, he lubricated his penis and
wanked in strong, long strokes until his discharge trembled through him and
joined mine.  "Oh Dad, how can I possibly bear to be away from you," he wept
as he let go of his wilting member and embraced me again.  "You have brought
me such happiness and security.  Now it feels like it will be destroyed.  I
need you with me, Dad."

"Shhh!  Don't talk about our separation right now.  We have shared such love
and shown it in such a personal physical act that we should not spoil it
with words.  Let me take you to bed now, Nick, and let us sleep soundly so
that, in the morning, we can look at things clearly and make some rational
decisions.  Oh, and Nick," I added, "I love you and need you with me just as
much."  Sobbing with his emotion, Nick plastered me with his kisses until I
broke the embrace and, easing him off my lap, led him to the bedroom.



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