Date: Sat, 10 Jul 2004 19:02:58 +0000 From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@hotmail.com> Subject: Two Jubilees and a Spitfire, Part 25 This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue, go and surf elsewhere. This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental. The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author. My thanks to Michael who has read this through and made a number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors , grammatical, spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault. I am trying to use terms that were used by us who were young in the UK at that time, and not to use anachronistic terms, like gay, blow job, wank, and cum. It is surprising how difficult it is. If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all messages. Two Jubilees and One Spitfire. Resume:- Trevor is now studying for a Ph.D. at Nottingham university. Part 25 Kundi Whenever they talked about it, Trevor and Kundi could not remember how and when they first encountered each other. But both remembered the time when they stood in the short queue waiting to get their evening meal in the refectory. They talked together and when they had collected their meals they went and sat together. Perhaps it was more a case of knowing about each other rather than actually knowing each other. They exchanged names. Kundi Akinola came from southern Nigeria. He was of slight build, and considerably shorter than the five foot eleven of Trevor. His skin was very dark. Kundi was in his first year and reading Civil Engineering. He was slightly overawed when he discovered Trevor was doing a Ph. D. and had been to Cambridge. But Trevor's natural charm soon put him at his ease. They talked together at some length that evening. Kundi was still feeling lonely and baffled by English life. The cold damp of the winter had been a grim time for him. Was it ever warm in England? He had made very few English friends, and usually moved around with a group of fellow students from West Africa. Trevor knew a little of what Kundi was feeling. He was able to make a sympathetic response, by talking how different he felt initially up at Cambridge amongst all the men with a Public School background. At heart he still felt at times a deprived lad from the East End of London, brought up by a bachelor Jewish refugee from Austria. It was Trevor's mention of Upper Class men from the Public Schools that led to the significant change of direction in their conversation. "These rich English people, the Lords and Ladies, what sort of places do they live in. I've seen Buckingham Palace in London where the Queen of England lives, but here in Nottingham I have seen only the houses of the poor in the Meadows, and the homes of better off people in the suburbs near here of Wollaton and Beeston. Where do the nobles live?" "Well, some of the nobility are poor. I have a friend who is an old Etonian, and his family have lived in a Manor House in Gloucestershire for generations, but though my friend's father is a Knight, they are not really a noble family." Trevor went on to describe Winchfield Manor where Paul and the Driffields lived. "But if you want to see a real stately home there is one less than a mile away, but if you want a really magnificent one you want to go to somewhere like Chatsworth, one of the houses of the Duke of Devonshire." "One of?" asked Kundi in surprise. "Yes, one of." "Where is this one near at hand?" "Wollaton Hall, just the other side of the Derby Road from you." "What? The other side of the big brick wall?" "That's right." "I didn't know you could go in there." "I know. Let me take you on Saturday afternoon." Kundi was living in a hall of residence, named Wortley Hall, and on the Saturday afternoon Trevor called for him. It was a rather dull day with a cold wind blowing from the east. They crossed the Derby Road and went into Wollaton Park. They walked along the path that led up to the house. They saw the herd of deer that lived in the park, and also stood and watched some people playing golf. It was not the best way to approach the Hall. It stood on a hill giving wide views all around. They came up to it. Kundi looked up amazed at the stonework. "I've read up something about it," said Trevor. "It was built in Elizabeth I's time, [1558-1603] by a Sir Francis Willoughby. He had been to Italy, and to Venice in particular. Venice has a lot of canals, where the boats, gondolas, are moored to rings set in the buildings. Sir Francis Willoughby had rings carved in stone round the bottom of his house." Kundi saw the rings and pointed to them. "It would be a major flood for the water to get up to that level," said Kundi with a laugh. "A second Noah's flood." remarked Trevor. "What did the Sir Francis Willoughby do to be rich enough to build this?" asked Kundi. "His family were originally money lenders in the Twelfth Century in Nottingham." "Money lenders?" "Yes, money lenders." Kundi was quiet for a moment. "His family moved out of Nottingham to the village of Willoughby," continued Trevor. "They took the name of the village. They made more money. Then in the Sixteenth Century built this place." "Do they live inside today?" "No. The family is still around, but they live somewhere in Yorkshire today. The head of the family is a Lord Middleton." "A lord?" "Yes, a Lord. A Sir Something Willoughby in the Eighteenth Century was made Lord Middleton. This house, or hall, now belongs to the Nottingham City Council, and the hall is a museum." "Can we go inside?" "Yes." They went inside. It was a museum with show cases. There were stuffed birds and animals, including a large gorilla. They stood in front of the case. "Any gorillas in your part of the world? I think I can see a family likeness," said Trevor. Kundi looked at him with hurt and shock in his eyes, and then saw the twinkle in Trevor's. "I've seen more likeness in some of the men wandering around Nottingham," muttered Kundi. Trevor roared with laughter. He tickled his own armpits and made a face. "Men like me, you mean?" They both laughed, causing people to turn and stare. But for the two of them their laughter marked another step in their relationship. "I can't image people living in a place like this," said Kundi. "I can't imagine it with tables, chairs, beds and pictures, and children and servants around the place." "I know what we'll do. I will take you to Chatsworth. I know a little bit about it." "Where's this Chatsworth?" "In Derbyshire. Not very far from here." "Can you see it?" "Not only can you see it. I think you can go round it. It is fully furnished. You can go round the gardens as well. It is open to the public on some days." "I'd like to see a house where a Duke lives," said Kundi. "I'll find out when it is open, and I'll take you. I've got a car so that would be quite easy." A week later, Trevor took Kundi to Chatsworth. It was a warm sunny day. The countryside was bright with the fresh colours of late Spring. The first part of their journey went through the rather depressing small towns of Ilkeston, Heanor and Ripley. Then they went down into the Derwent valley. The hills were wooded, and most of the buildings were of grey stone. Kundi was like a small child commenting on all that he saw. Trevor realised just how narrow Kundi's experience of England had been. A few days in London, and then up to Nottingham. There he had not ventured far from the University and the city centre. He had spent Christmas and the New Year with a church going family in West Bridgeford, where he had appreciated and enjoyed the experience of being in an English home for a few days. "It's a palace!" exclaimed Kundi when they approached Chatsworth House, and saw it across the river. It was Trevor's first visit. They went round the House, guide book in hand, with Trevor reading and explaining to Kundi. The sumptuous splendour of the state rooms left Kundi speechless. "Kings and Queens have stayed here! Been in these rooms!" After they had been round the house they wandered round the gardens. They were still being brought into order after the neglect of the war and immediate post war years. Kundi was full of questions, fortunately Trevor was a historian and was able to answer some of them. They made their way back to Trevor's car with a certain amount of reluctance. On the way to Nottingham Trevor quizzed Kundi about the very different life in a village in southern Nigeria. "I'm feeling peckish. Do you fancy some fish and chips?" said Trevor. "What do you mean?" "Haven't you had fish and chips eaten off a newspaper?" "No." "It is a traditional English meal, and should be eaten outside using your fingers with the fish and chips wrapped in a newspaper. They're supposed to be better up here in the north, cooked in beef dripping. In the south they're cooked in lard" They found a fish and chip shop in Heanor. The fish and chips were bought. They put some salt and vinegar on them, and walked out of the shop. "I thought roast beef and Yorkshire pudding were the traditional food?" said Kundi. "They are, but fish and chips are equally popular. So what do you think?" "I think they taste good," said Kundi, trying to get a piece of batter covered fish into his mouth before it disintegrated in his fingers. Kundi was full of thanks when they arrived back in Nottingham. "I have seen more of England, and learned more about England today, than in all the rest of my time here." "Want to do something like it again?" "Yes, please. If it is not too much trouble.." "Not at all. I've been to places today where I've never been before. There are a lot of places we can go to." Trevor gave some thought as to where they should go for their next outing. As it looked as though it was going to be a fine sunny day he decided to go to Charnwood Forest. It was a part of the country he did not know. Taking Kundi gave Trevor the excuse to explore for himself. "Are we going to have fish and chips again on the way back?" asked Kundi. "If that's what you'd like, that's fine by me." When they arrived at the small car park which was near to the summit of Beacon Hill, the highest point in Charnwood Forest, the heavens opened and there was a heavy downpour. They could not see out of the windows of the car. "I don't think this'll last long," said Trevor. He pulled a lever and the back of his seat went back. He showed Kundi how to adjust his seat. Kundi started asking Trevor about his childhood in London during the blitz. He told him about his poor home, his poor schooling in Limehouse, and the big change when he went to live with Isaac in Leytonstone. This made it easier for Kundi to talk about his schooling, in the early days in a small mission school. They talked together for some minutes, both aware that the relationship was growing. Trevor turned and looked at Kundi. "Can I ask something very personal?" Kundi hesitated for a moment wondering what was coming. "Yes." "Can I touch your hair?" Kundi giggled. "Yes, if you want to. But why?" "I've never touched an African's hair, and I have often wondered what it felt like." Kundi turned his head closer to Trevor. "Go on then." He started giggling again. Trevor put out a hand and placed it on Kundi's hair. "It feels strange. It is both soft and springy, like very fine wires. If I press my hand down, when I take my hand away it springs back into position." Kundi was highly amused at the whole thing. "Thanks," said Trevor, taking his hand away. "I hope you didn't mind." "Not at all." It was now Kundi's turn. He reached out a hand and touched the hairs that could be seen at the open neck of Trevor's shirt. "Are you hairy all over?" "Yes. I am more hairy than most men. Why? Aren't you?" "No. My people are smooth skinned. I have a little under my arms, and a little down below, round my dong, but not much." He put a hand down to his crotch. "And none on my chest or legs." Trevor paused before making another personal enquiry. "Did you know, Kundi, that most Englishmen think that Africans have colossal big dongs, as you call it." Kundi collapsed in another fit of giggling. Then with a completely straight face, he turned to Trevor, "My dong is fourteen inches long when it is hard, and I need two hands to get my fingers round it." "Oh yea? You know there's a saying that seeing is believing." They both laughed. They looked into each other's eyes, and both were silent. Both wondered about the other. By this time the rain had stopped, and the sun was shining. The water was steaming off the car and off the ground. "Let's go up to the top of the hill, and see what we can see." said Trevor. They got out of the car and made their way up to the top of Beacon Hill. The shower could be seen moving away to the north east. They stood by the trig. Point [See footnote] looking at the surrounding countryside. "I thought you said we were coming to a forest. There are some trees, but most of the view is of fields," said Kundi. "It used to be more wooded. But fairly open ground was often called a forest and was used by the early kings for hunting. This may have been a royal hunting forest, I don't know." They continued to look at the view. "I wonder how many counties we can see from here?" asked Trevor. "What are counties exactly?" asked Kundi. Trevor had to explain. Then they decided to walk along a path. "We'll just see where it leads," said Trevor. "Trevor, can I ask you another private question?" "Fire away." Trevor wondered what was coming now. "Your guardian, Isaac, he's a Jew?" "Yes." "Is he, - as the Bible says, Jews should be, - you know, - circumcised?" Trevor laughed. "Circumcised the eighth day, to quote the Bible." "Are you?" "What me?" "Yes, you?" "No I'm not. I'm not a Jew. I'm a Gentile, or a goy as they call us?" "I'm not either. In the north of the country where the Muslims live, they circumcise. Some tribes circumcise, but not mine." They walked on, each taking in that further item of personal information. They followed the footpath for about a mile. "I need a pee," said Trevor. "So do I," replied Kundi. They made their way into some bushes and stood about six feet apart with their backs at right angles to each other. "Am I going to get a sight of your fourteen inch dong?" said Trevor speaking over his shoulder. "Not this afternoon," answered Kundi with a giggle. "It's not hard." They walked into a village. They looked around, and went into the church. They made comments on some of the memorials on the wall. Some of them were in Latin, so Trevor had to drag out his schoolboy Latin from the depths of his memory in an attempt to translate. They made their way back to the car, chatting together. On their way back to Nottingham they stopped in Loughborough for some fish and chips. The next Saturday found Trevor and Kundi spending a day in Lincoln. This involved a longer car journey, and as usual they found no difficulty in finding something to talk about. Trevor was beginning to learn a few things about Civil Engineering as well as life in East Africa. Kundi, as always, was full of questions trying to understanding the idiosyncrasies of British life. But there were also the more personal issues and intimate questions. "Do you have a girl friend back in Nigeria? Or don't young men like you have girl friends?" asked Trevor. Kundi laughed. "No! We do things differently at home. We don't go courting as you seem to here. Marriages are arranged." "Has yours been arranged yet?" "I don't think so. I hope not. There'll be pressure on me from my family when I get home. They'll have chosen a girl for me." "Poor girl, having you chosen for her!" exclaimed Trevor with a laugh. "I'll be a good catch. I'll have a degree in Civil Engineering. The parents of girls will be queuing up to apply." "Do you have any say in it?" "I can say no. But it's hard on a girl when someone says no. Other families wonder why she was turned down. Though if a man turns down two or three he gets a bad reputation. But what about you? Do you have a girl friend." "No! Though my landlady's daughter tried to make me her boy friend. But I escaped." "You escaped! It was the lucky girl who escaped. Who'd want you for a husband!" giggled Kundi. Trevor laughed too. "But seriously. Do you want to get married?" "I'm not sure. I have written to my parents asking them not to arrange or even start discussing anything till I'm home, and can have a say." "Putting off the evil day?" commented Trevor. "Maybe. But what about you? Do you expect to get married?" "No. I like my freedom. I don't want to be tied down." Then thinking he may have been too emphatic he added, "At least, not yet." "I think I'm the same," added Kundi quietly. In Lincoln they had a cup of coffee and a biscuit before looking round the Cathedral. Kundi was impressed with the building, not so much by its beauty which is considerable, but by the skill of the medieval builders who with very limited equipment, and basically human muscle power, placed the huge stones in position and spanned with arches the nave and crossing. Later in the afternoon they were walking through the streets of Lincoln and Trevor saw a thick striped pole above a barber's shop sticking out and pointing to the skies. He nudged Kundi, and nodded up at the pole. "You know what that reminds me of?" "No." "I know it's smaller, but it reminds me of your huge dong." Kundi nearly collapsed in a fit of helpless giggles. So much so that some passers by turned to see if he was ill. After a few moments he got control of himself. "You've never seen it. It is much bigger than that pole." The giggling resumed. By this time Trevor too was laughing. About half an hour later they both went into a Gents. It was a large one and empty. There was a line of twenty urinals. Trevor went to stand at one about a third of the way along. Kundi marched right to the far end. "I'm not going to give away Nigerian state secrets," said Kundi laughing again. As they went out Kundi whispered in Trevor's ear. "I think you're jealous. Do I need to bring along a micrometer to measure yours?" "Yes, and a microscope as well," said Trevor giving Kundi one of his cheeky grins. They both laughed. On their way back to Nottingham in the early evening they stopped for fish and chips. When they got back to the University and Kundi was about to get out of the car, he turned to Trevor. "Thank you for a wonderful day out. I have enjoyed all that we've seen, and I've enjoyed our time together." "Same again next week?" "Yes, please." "Then remember to bring your micrometer with you!" shouted Trevor, as he pulled away. In his rear mirror he saw Kundi giggling and waving goodbye. Over the following few days Trevor gave a lot of thought to the developing friendship with Kundi. Usually his concentration on his work was a hundred per cent, but two or three times he found that he was thinking about Kundi. He tried to begin with first principles and work at it from there. He liked Kundi. In fact, he liked him a lot. He enjoyed Kundi's company. He was interesting to talk to, as well as being an amusing companion. Yes, and he did want to spend more time with Kundi. Though he was an undergraduate the fact that he was slightly older than Trevor meant that there was a maturity in him. The one area of regret was that any friendship was likely to last for about two years, because by then Kundi would be returning to Nigeria. Was he sexually attracted to Kundi? He would certainly like to see Kundi naked, as he had never seen a naked African. But was there more to it than an intellectual or sexual curiosity? Would he welcome a sexual encounter with Kundi? He thought for a while on that one, and decided that if the opportunity arose he would certainly take it. Then he started thinking about Kundi. He certainly appreciated the growing friendship. There was never any hint of a hesitation about going out with each other. But was the attraction Trevor's car, and knowledge of England and its history? He hoped it was not. Where did Kundi stand on sexual attraction? He had revealed certain things about himself. He was hesitant over the prospect of getting married. He enjoyed talking about sexual things, especially about dongs, usually with accompanying giggles. But was he attracted to men rather than women? Was he interested in a sexual encounter, or a sexual relationship with Trevor. On those questions Trevor decided the jury was out. Trevor then started thinking about how to open a door to sexual possibilities. He realised there were possible pitfalls, as he could easily endanger the whole friendship by doing something that was flagrantly offensive or taboo to a man from West Africa. He was uncertain as to the right approach. *** Sue Bamford, Trevor's landlady, was aware of his approaching birthday. June 4th fell on a Wednesday in 1958. "I believe you've got a birthday in ten days time?" she said one morning after breakfast. "Yes. I reach the ripe age of 26." "I wouldn't call it ripe. Ripe is when you're retired as Ron will be this August. You're still a mere lad." They both laughed. "Have you anything planned for that evening?" "No. Nothing at all. Why?" asked Trevor. "I wondered if you would like a proper dinner here. I'd love to cook a special meal for you. I've done that for Betty over the last few years. And you're now one of the family. What do you think?" "That's very kind of you. I'd like that. You sure it's not too much trouble?" "Good, that's arranged then. This friend of yours, who you've been exploring the country with, would you like to invite him as well? Betty will be here, with her latest boy friend. That would make six of us, a nice number to cater for." "That'd be great. But did you know that he's from Nigeria, his very black." "That's no problem with Ron or me. Ron has been out to Nigeria for Raleigh a couple of times." Later that day, when Trevor was on his way back to Beeston, he called in on Kundi in his Hall of Residence. He knocked on the door. "Come in." Trevor entered. "Come on in," invited Kundi. "Good to see you. Like a coffee?" "Yes, please." "I didn't expect to see you. I was just struggling with some maths. There seems to be too much maths in every building or construction. Making huts at home is much simpler and doesn't require any maths at all," laughed Kundi. Trevor sat in the easy chair, while Kundi sat on the bed. "So what brings you round here, this evening. I presume not just a social call?" "No. On Wednesday week I shall be celebrating my twenty-sixth birthday." "A mere baby," giggled Kundi. "All right, granddad, just because you are two years older than me. My landlady is laying on a special meal to celebrate. I've come round to invite you." Kundi grinned with pleasure. "Does she know I'm a Nigerian?" "No problem. Her husband Ron's been to Nigeria on work a couple of times." Kundi looked at Trevor for a moment, and his face lit up. "What shall I wear? Can I wear my special African wear?" "What? War paint?" That set Kundi off into his usual fit of giggles. "No. I brought with me what we wear on important occasions. I've had no excuse to wear it. I shall wear it for your birthday." "Good! I look forward to seeing you in it." Kundi frowned for a moment. "Can I change into it in your room? I don't think I dare walk through the streets wearing it.." "That's easily arranged." said Trevor. He stood up to go. Kundi also stood. He stepped closer to Trevor, and put his hands on Trevor's upper arms. "Thank you, Trevor, for asking me. I feel very honoured to have been asked on your special day. I feel I have a real friend in you." "And I in you, Kundi." Trevor put out his hands and placed them on Kundi's waist. They stood and looked into each other's eyes, much as they had done in the car on their outing to Charnwood Forest a few weeks before. "I must be going." Trevor made the break, and turned to leave the room, conscious of a swelling in his groin. It was a thoughtful Trevor who made his way back to Beeston that evening. *** Kundi made his own way round to Trevor's. Sue Bamford went to the door and warmly welcomed him, and then called out for Trevor. Trevor came down stairs. "You found your way all right, then?" "Yes. All I need to do is to change." "Follow me." Trevor led the way upstairs to his bedroom. He would have liked to have stayed, but did not want to invade Kundi's privacy while he changed. "Come down stairs when you're ready." It did not take long for Kundi to change. Trevor was at the bottom of the bottom of the stairs and watched. "Wow! You look magnificent!" Kundi was dressed in a voluminous brightly coloured robe. There was a broad grin on his face. Trevor had told the others that Kundi was going to wear his native dress. He called through to Sue in the kitchen. "Sue, come and see this!" Sue came into the hall. "Kundi, you look wonderful. Thank you for coming to my home." Then to Kundi's amazement she gave him a kiss on his cheek. Trevor took Kundi into the sitting room where the other's were gathered. Introductions were made. Soon Ron and Kundi were talking about Nigeria over a glass of sherry. The evening went extremely well. Kundi fitted in, and felt totally accepted. Sue knew that the meal was a success and had been totally appreciated. Ron had enjoyed talking about Nigeria. Betty and her boy friend were absorbed in each other, and they were more than happy about that. Betty and her boyfriend had done the washing up, as it provided them with an opportunity to be alone. It was quite late when the party broke up. Trevor said that he would walk part of the way back to Wortley Hall with Kundi, as he wanted some fresh air before going to bed. Kundi went upstairs and changed back into his normal attire. They began to make their way back through the streets of Beeston. There was still some light in the sky though the sun had set some time before. The night was warm. "Thank you for inviting me to your birthday meal," said Kundi. "Thank you for coming; and for wearing your national dress. It brightened up the evening. You looked very important and dignified. I want to ask the question that Scotsmen get asked about their kilts." "What's that?" asked Kundi. "What do you wear underneath?" Kundi giggled briefly. "It all depends. Where I am, and who I'm with." "That sounds like the answer Scotsmen give." "What do they wear then?" "They say it's a state secret, and you have to find out by discovery, and not by being told." Kundi laughed. "Have you discovered it then?" Trevor was slightly embarrassed. "Yes, I have actually." "Your friend Fergus?" "Yes," answered Trevor with a laugh. "I think I shall tell you," said Kundi. He bent closer to Trevor as they walked along and whispered. "Normally I wear nothing underneath, but tonight I kept my pants on." "So your dong didn't swing free?" "He did not swing free tonight." "Kept him imprisoned in case he got hard?" "If he'd decided to grow I would have had difficulty making sure the sixteen inches did not show," laughed Kundi. "I thought you said he was only fourteen inches." "Your interest in him has made him grow." "What two inches in a few weeks! At that rate he'll be colossal." "I have to give you some entertainment," teased Kundi. "You should be giving yours more exercise to encourage him to grow." "How do you know I'm not giving mine plenty of exercise and making him catch you up." They both laughed; but that conversation went no further. *** For their next Saturday together, they decided to go for an afternoon walk in the Dukeries, a more wooded part of north Nottinghamshire. Trevor had planned a route, and had come equipped with the relevant ordnance survey map. It was a boiling hot day. Even Kundi was happy with the warmth. They parked the car, and set off walking. They did not hurry, it was too hot for that. As they walked they argued amicably about students and politics. After they had walked a couple of miles, Trevor suggested that as it was so hot they found somewhere pleasant in the sun, and take it easy. Trevor examined the map carefully. "I think there may be an open space a short distance over in this direction." He strode off, and Kundi followed. After about three hundred yards of pushing through bracken, and clambering over the odd fallen branch, they came to some a thicker undergrowth. In the middle of it there was an old and rusty barbed wire fence. "I think there may be somewhere open just beyond this." They clambered over the wire without doing themselves any crucial injuries. They quickly found themselves in a field. At least it was an open area, surrounded by trees. But it was a neglected field. The grass was tall, there were patches of thistles, and tall flowers. "This'll do. Let's have a drink, and enjoy the warmth." He took the ruck-sack off his back and finding a more grassy area they sat down. They drank some of the lemonade that Trevor had brought, sharing it straight out of the bottle. They lay back on the dry grass. "Is this warm enough for you, Kundi?" "It is like our cool season." "I dread to think what your hot season must be like." " Hotter, and very wet." "I shan't be coming to visit you at that time of the year." "You'd melt." laughed Kundi. The conversation lagged, and Kundi began to doze. After a while Trevor turned on his side and looked at Kundi. He looked at the skin on his face. He realised that there were beautiful shades of brown. Some parts were a dusky brown, but other parts which were damp with perspiration glowed in the sunlight. He thought on what he was seeing. Kundi woke when a fly landed on his face. He swiped it away with his hand, and waking, turned to face Trevor. "What are you looking at?" "You." "So?" "I was thinking. We usually use the word `black' for you Africans, and `white' for Europeans. You're not black. You're brown. Fair enough, a dark brown. But you're not black. But when you think about it I'm not white." He pulled his diary out of his pocket and opened it at random. "That page is white." He put his hand against it. "My hand is not white, it's pink, a dirty pick, and slightly brown from the summer sun on the back of my hand. Even the parts the sun never gets to are not white, they are pale, yes, but not white. It is all wrong that we call you black, and me white. You're brown, and I'm pink." Kundi started giggling. "You not white man, you pink man!" "Why not? To be accurate removes some of the moral concepts of black and white." "But some of my fellow Africans, the Nilotic peoples of Southern Sudan, I think they are more black than brown." "Let's just say that they are a very, very dark brown." They lay there relaxing and enjoying the warm sunshine. Trevor offered Kundi some more of the lemonade. "I need to let some out, before I take more in," said Kundi. He got up and walked about twenty yards to some bushes. With his back to Trevor, he undid his flies. Trevor drank some of the lemonade and watched. He saw Kundi shake his hidden cock, and then pull it back into his trousers. He turned and began to walk back to Trevor buttoning up his flies. "That feels better," said Kundi. "Good." Trevor paused for a moment, before continuing, "And when am I going to see that dong of yours?" Kundi got down onto the grass alongside Trevor. "Do you want to?" "Yes," replied Trevor with one of his cheeky grins. "I want to see if what is said about you Africans is true." Kundi giggled. "You'd better find out then." Trevor looked Kundi fully in the eye. He looked to see if there was any anger, disgust, or even fear. There were none. He saw a twinkle in Kundi's eyes, and the smallest of grins. He put his right hand on Kundi's thigh, and continued to watch the African's face. "You're so eager to see what I've got, so go on," said Kundi with a laugh. Trevor moved his hand up towards Kundi's crotch. Again he looked at Kundi, who gave him a slight nod. Trevor moved his hand further up and immediately felt a hardness within the trousers. Still watching Kundi's face his fingers felt around, and began to undo the fly buttons. When three of them were undone, he slid his hand into the opening. He was conscious of warmth, and a hardness. He negotiated the opening in Kundi's pants, and grasped the hardness within. Kundi smiled. Trevor pulled Kundi's dong out into the open. It was not fourteen inches long. It was probably just under seven inches, slightly longer than Trevor's. But it was thick, considerably thicker that Trevor's, and he was not thin in that department. "It's wonderful Kundi. You've got something here to be proud of." "To think that an Englishman would hold my dong, like that." "Why not?" Trevor pulled the loose sheath of skin up and down Kundi's dong a number of times, revealing and then covering the pink head. "That feels good, Trevor. But if you do that much more I shall be scattering my seed." "Not yet," said Trevor. "Can I see you too?" asked Kundi. "Yes, of course, if you wish." It was now Kundi's turn to unfasten the fly buttons on Trevor's trousers. He put his hand in and extracted Trevor's penis. "I never dreamt that I would hold an Englishman's dong, and that he would be holding mine. This is the first one I've seen close to." "It is much like yours, except that its pink and yours is brown." "But with some pink bits too," added Kundi. "But I want to see all of you," said Trevor again. "Let's strip off." They both removed their shoes. Then Trevor sat up and removed his shirt. Kundi followed suit. Trevor reached across and ran his hand over the smooth hairless skin of Kundi's chest. "You're beautiful, Kundi! Beautiful." After a while of stroking Kundi's chest, and lightly touching his nipples, he got both hands to the buckle on Kundi's belt. He undid it, and then unfastened the top button of the flies. Kundi raised his bottom and Trevor pulled down the pants and trousers together and removed them. Trevor looked down on Kundi, "You are beautiful. You're perfect." "I want to see you," said Kundi. Trevor removed his pants and trousers. They were both naked except for their socks. Kundi lay back, looking at Trevor. "Your chest is so hairy. Almost like fur." "Do you mind?" asked Trevor, with a slight note of anxiety creeping into his voice. "No. I shall be wanting to stroke it. Do you purr when stroked?" Trevor laughed. "You'll have to find out." "What's that mark at the top of your thigh," asked Kundi pointing. "That's where I was shot when I was in Korea." "Near miss. A little higher and I would not have been able to touch such a fine dong and balls." Then Trevor bent down and placed a gentle kiss at the base of Kundi's cock, where it met his scrotum. That action was like a detonator to Kundi. He sprang into life. He pushed Trevor onto his back, and lay upon him. They were cock to cock, thrusting at each other. Kundi kissed Trevor fully on the lips, and then pressed his tongue to make entry. Trevor responded. He thrust with his cock, kissed with his lips, and used his tongue. There followed several minutes of passionate movement. Both wished they had more than a couple of hands. Both wanted to get even closer to each other. Sometimes Kundi was on top of Trevor, and then they rolled over and Trevor was pushing down on Kundi. Hands felt buttocks, and explored between. Ear lobes were nibbled, necks were kissed, eyes were kissed. It was a frenzy of activity. Brown and pink could not get enough of each other. How long this went on for, neither of them could tell. Kundi gave a great gasp, and stopped. Trevor stopped too. "I'm sorry, Trevor. I lost control." "You can lose control like that anytime." They lay in each others arms, smiling and kissing. Kundi's hand began to stroke Trevor's bum, and his fingers began to explore more deeply between. When he touched the most sensitive spot Trevor groaned with pleasure. "You like that?" "I should say. But I shall be wanting more than that." "What do you mean?" asked Kundi. "I shall be wanting that wonderful dong of yours there, deep inside me." Kundi moved slightly with surprise. "Does that shock you? Does it offend you?" asked Trevor wondering if he had over stepped the mark. "No shock, no offence. But surprised. You want me to screw you?" "Yes." "But that is for you to take the role of a servant, a slave, a prisoner. For a white man to suggest I fuck him!" "If you would like to, I want to receive your love juice deep inside me, because Kundi, I love you very much." He kissed Kundi gently on the lips. "Do you want me to screw you today, here and now?" "Not today. Some other time, somewhere more comfortable, on a bed or something. I will need some lubrication before I can take that great piston of yours." "I'll bring some engine oil next time," giggled Kundi. Kundi turned to lay on his back, and looked up at Trevor. "I'm one very lucky Nigerian boy. I come to England; oh yes! I know it has cold, damp, misty, miserable weather, but I have met this wonderful Englishman. He has taken me out in his car, to Chatsworth, to Charnwood Forest, to Lincoln. He invited me to be his guest at his birthday dinner where he lives. And then on the one day when the sunshine is actually warm, he takes me to a deserted forest, and we take off all our clothes and he does nice things to me, and he says he loves me." Kundi sat up and whispered in Trevor's ear, "And I love him too!" He lay down again, a broad smile on his face. Trevor looked down on Kundi. His right hand felt Kundi's face. Whenever a finger was close to his mouth Kundi would kiss it, or lick it with his tongue. Trevor played with Kundi's thick lips, and then bent forward to kiss them deeply. Then he moved his hand down to Kundi's neck, and breast. He found his nipples and gently rubbed them. Kundi began to groan with pleasure. Then his hand moved down over Kundi's stomach and he felt the small patch of pubic hair. His fingers felt around the dong and balls, and briefly explored his perineum. He then took hold of Kundi's dong in his hand, and began to pull the soft skin of the sheath up and down on the hardness within, he watched with delight as the head, that beautiful head, was repeatedly revealed and concealed. Kundi's pleasure was visibly and audibly increasing. Trevor accelerated the tempo of his hand. Both knew what was about to happen. But Trevor was surprised at the climax. A jet of white spunk poured from the tip of Kundi's dong. There was, for a moment, an arc of white sperm from Kundi's cock to his neck. That initial spurt collapsed onto Kundi's dark brown body as a continuous rope of spunk from cock to neck. The next three spurts just added to the first outpouring. The final part of the ejaculation poured out onto Trevor's hand. Trevor immediately lay on top of Kundi, and almost at once he added his spunk to Kundi's. They lay panting in each other's arms. When they had got their breath back, they kissed. When they were almost dressed Trevor pulled his camera from his ruck sack. "Smile, Kundi." Kundi turned to face Trevor a broad grin on his face, his clothes still dishevelled, as he had not completely finished getting dressed. When they were tidy and ready, they stood and looked a each other. "Thank you, Trevor, that was wonderful." "Thank you, Kundi. We must do it again." Kundi nodded, but the how, when and where was not going to be easy. * * * Footnote:- Trig. point:- Popular term for triangulation point, used in the ordnance survey of the British Isles. It's exact height above sea level is known, and often there is a four foot high four sided concrete pillar on the site. It is also depicted by a symbol on the larger scale O.S. maps. Jeff at jeffyrks@hotmail.com