Date: Fri, 26 Nov 2004 07:13:25 +0800
From: James MacMannis <james_macmannis@hotmail.com>
Subject: aboriginal_farmboy / aboriginal_farmboy_08

Aboriginal Farmboy 08

Author: James MacMannis <james_macmannis@hotmail.com>
Subject: aboriginal-farmboy-08 (adult-youth, interracial, rural)
Archive; 'Aboriginal Farmboy #8'{James MacMannis}(BB, interr, rural)[]
Homosexual, young male sex
Adult-youth
Interracial
Rural setting


ABORIGINAL FARMBOY - PART EIGHT

Copyright (c) 2004 by James MacMannis
This document may be downloaded for your personal pleasure; however, you may
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in any media whatsoever without my permission.  Please email me at
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The drive home was uneventful.  Wayan was pleased to have a ride back to his
college accommodation, rather than having to find connecting buses, and said
he would be overjoyed to come and spend next weekend with us.  It would be a
long weekend for him due to a university staff conference taking two days of
the following week.  I told him which train to catch and which station to
stop at so that we could collect him.

Connie was uncomfortable by time we reached home.  His bandages were tight,
probably because his arms had swollen a little with all the activity of the
day, and he was itchy.  I couldn't think of anything that would help him, so
suggested he have a shower and sit to watch TV.  Nick took Connie to the
shower, needing to shower himself after his half-marathon run.  Chris and I
found a moment alone for the first time in a couple of days.  We sat and
hugged each other after getting the wood stove going again in the sunroom.
I should mention that Chris had shaved his moustache and the rest of his
beard off, following the burning from the tree fire, and there was already a
light fuzz of his dark hair covering his head.  The new look suited him.

"You are a great guy to take on the responsibility of my family like this,
James.  Thank you for doing it, especially with Connie and his injuries.
Thank you for taking Nick down to the city today - that was real special for
him."  Chris leaned into me, crushing his lips against mine as he deepened
the embrace and increased the profundity of his expression to me.  We both
needed to show each other something of our love, having had too many other
things crowd out the opportunity to do so.  Although there was a sexual
need, the greater need right now was just to hold and be held, to look and
to feel, to whisper and to listen.

His breathing was deep and regular, like mine, as we held each other
closely.  I could not believe the glow of joy emanating from somewhere deep
in my being as my arms gripped my lover tightly to me and he applied an
equally demanding force on me.  I am sure there could not be a more content
place to be this side of heaven.  I was lost in wonder at the remarkable
thing that had happened to me in finding him.

Connie and Nick appeared in the room some time later.  Chris and I were
still wrapped in each other's arms, but the original intensity had eased
off.  The other boys joined us near the fire.  "Thank you so much for taking
us to Perth today, Dad.  I was so proud to be able to run well and to do it
for you."  Nick's eyes glistened as he spoke, betraying a deeper emotion.
"Thanks from me, too, James.  Although I am tired from the trip, I really
appreciate that you went to so much trouble for me.  I am glad you got on so
well with Wayan." Connie said.  I told the boys that I had enjoyed the day
as much as they had and was happy to have been able to do it for them.

We had dinner eventually and then made our way to bed.  Nick had somehow
persuaded Chris that he should sleep with me again, and after I had
showered, I found Nick in my bed waiting for me.  "There is something that
you need to teach me tonight, Dad.  Do you remember?" he asked somewhat
boldly.  "I am happy to show you what I know, but please, Nick, do not ever
think you have to do this."  I was still afraid of the undeniable fact of
his underage status, more for him than even myself.  I did not want him to
hold me responsible for influencing his way of life or any aspect of it.
"Dad, I love you.  I will climb over the moon if you tell me to, just to
please you.  This thing that I want to do is one small thing I can do to
make you happy.  You already have made me happy by giving it to me, so why
can't I learn how to share it with you?  And, Dad, if you think there is any
forcing on your part, then think again.  I made Chris go and sleep in
Connie's room because I have to be with you tonight.  Nobody is making me do
something here; I want to do it with all my heart.  Please relax with me.
Let me learn something more of this wonder that you have shown me.  Let me
share it with you.  Please, Dad, please."

I had one more question before I was ready to do anything else with Nick.
My body was not responding to him, and I knew I would not until I had
resolved these issues racing around in my head.  "Nick, why have you started
calling me 'Dad' today?" I asked, half scared of his reply because I was not
at all sure what it would be, perhaps a little afraid of how his response
would affect my feelings towards him.  A lengthy silence descended upon the
room, the only relief from which was the patter of a light rainfall on the
house roof.  I began to think that Nick would not reply to me, and was about
to form a comment dismissing my question when he began to speak.

"I was seven years old when my father died.  I can remember bits of my life
with him, but not much.  Connie really became my dad, even though he was
just a high school kid - in fact he was about the same age as I am now.  I
know more about my real father from what Connie and Chris have told me than
from what I can remember from personal experience.  I suppose that I have
been looking for a father figure ever since he died, even though I didn't
realise it.  Out of the blue you came along and there was instantly
something significantly deep about our relationship.  You never for a moment
became my friend - you were immediately something much more than a friend
could ever be.  Am I making sense to you?" Nick paused as he asked the
question.

"Yes, Nick, I understand you completely.  Go on."  I pressed him, not
wanting him to loose his train of thought.

"It was like we already knew each other.  I can't explain it, but that is
how I felt.  Later on, when I found out that you had known my father, and
even more since this morning when you told me you loved him, it made some
sense to me.  I thought about it a lot today, and I was going to talk to you
about it.  But it slipped out when we were in the city, and I didn't even
realise I had said it till after.  So, I just kept on calling you Dad.  I am
sorry, Mister James, I had no right to do that.  I am so sorry if I have
offended you in any way, I only meant it as a form of respect and as a true
expression of my love for you."  Nick said the last few words with a
noticeable catch to his voice.

I pulled him closer to me and held him tightly in a strong embrace.  My own
emotions were going haywire again as I contemplated the remarkable richness
of what had been offered me.  Perhaps one of the loneliest things in the
world is not to have had your own children, I gave up thinking on such tings
many years ago when I realised I would not have a wife.  Yet now, with a
force I could not have imagined, returned all those shelved thoughts and
notions, all those unknown attachments and emotions, all those questions and
possibilities.  I beheld a boy who was giving me his love as a child loves
his own father, and much more beyond the relationship many boys ever enjoy
with their natural father.  Could there be a greater love offered than that?
  I knew that Bible verse about "greater love has no man than that he should
lay down his life for his friends," but now I pondered perhaps a greater
form of love.

I did not cry.  In fact I felt so overwhelmed by this display of affection
and oneness so conveniently, yet inadequately, wrapped into the word "love",
that I could assess and analyse all of these things unbidden and without
conscious effort.  My mind seemed to race from one point to another, picking
up a relevant issue here and joining it to another there.  Somehow I
constructed a marvellous framework of data and, so absorbed in this
important task was I, drew from it an inevitable conclusion.

"With all my heart and soul and being I accept you, Nick, as my longed-for
son."  Suddenly I was having trouble forming the words I wanted to say.  My
emotion caught up with me and overtook my thoughts, wrenching the breath
from my lungs and filling my eyes with tears.  I continued talking, sobbing
the words out as I told this boy of my love for him.  "If you want to call
me your father, I am happy to accept the honour and proud to be given the
opportunity.  I love you so much, Nick."  He cried openly, his tears hot on
my shoulder where he had buried his head, the emotion heaving his body as
his weeping tried to escape.  "Oh, Dad, thank you so much," was all he could
manage to get out.

Sleep overtook us as we cried into a new state of oneness.  We would no
longer be just friends, for I now had a son and Nick had a father.  That
thought carried us sweetly into the night, adding its own peculiar blessing
to our new relationship.  I dreamt again of Nikolas sometime in the dark
hours.  It was not a dream I was afraid of or woke from startled.  Instead
it took the form of a loving reunion with my old partner of so many years
before in which he gently smiled at me, then moved on to another part of the
unseen world where he now dwelt.  I felt that he had given me his consent,
too.

My bladder was telling me I needed to use the toilet.  Early dawn light was
glowing on the horizon when I looked out the window.  As gently as possible
I disentangled myself from Nick and went about my business.  Returning to
bed from the cold I began to get back in equally quietly, but Nick said
"Don't worry, Dad, I am awake," as he lifted the covers for me.  We snuggled
up together his face to my neck and my nose smelling his soft dark hair, his
rampant penis prodding my groin as he pushed into me, causing my own organ
to resume the hardness it had displayed before I had pissed.  Nick reached
down and guided both out penises together so that as we rammed into each
other again they slid comfortably together.

"Dad, I need to suck you now.  Show me what to do." Nick said after a few
minutes of our intense embrace.  I realised there were no more words to be
said.  It was something he wanted to know and I wanted him to learn it from
me.  I spoke gently to him.  "Nick, don't try to take too much at first.
You need to get used to the size and shape before you can do that.  Also, be
careful of your teeth, because you can't feel what is happening with them,
but my penis will!  So, tuck your teeth back a bit and use you lips as much
as you can.  Let me show you."

I eased my way down his body till I found his stiff member throbbing at the
entrance of my mouth.  With the tip of my tongue I tasted his sweet juice as
it seeped through the folds of his foreskin.  I pushed my tongue in a
little, rubbing it along the slit and around the top of his glans until I
found the sex nerve underneath.  Nick writhed with the intense sensation of
this encounter, pushing himself into my mouth at the same time.  I took him
as he eased his way down my tongue, holding his hips to stop him thrusting
wildly and showing him how to control his more urgent impulse in order to
enjoy the build-up all the more.  "Oh, Dad, that is great," he moaned in his
ecstasy.  "I can't hold back any more."  He came in a gush, flooding my
mouth with his semen as it erupted mightily from his loins.  I maintained a
steady, yet very soft, suction on him until his spurting had ceased and I
could feel the reduction of his erection.  Nick eased himself out of my
mouth and, tugging on my shoulders, indicated I should come back up the bed.
  When I lay next to him again he leaned into my mouth, kissing strongly and
lovingly.

Wriggling his way down the bed, Nick found my organ waiting for his
ministrations.  I was confident he would use his thinking process to work
out a way to carefully coax my bubbling juices out.  "Nick, it is ok if you
don't want to swallow my semen," I said as I passed down a handkerchief for
him in case he wanted to use it instead.  He made no comment as he copied my
own actions of a few minutes previous.  I felt his tongue taste me before he
ran it around my penis head.  Taking his time, Nick savoured the flavour of
my juices and the texture of my penis.  He ran his tongue all the way from
the tip, down the shaft, and buried it in the recesses of my legs, before
returning back to the head once more.  I could feel the softness of his
breath on my sensitive skin, breath from his nostrils panting slightly from
his own recent orgasm and, I guessed, at the excitement of this new
adventure for him.

Making an "O" with his lips, Nick pushed himself over my head, the feeling
very intense and pleasurable as he began to make his way down my rigid pole.
  He took my advice about not trying to go too far, and I noticed that he
did not let himself go far enough to begin gagging again.  Using just the
top half of my penis, he began a firm but gentle sucking and bobbing,
working his way into the essence of my body until I could not feel where my
skin ended and his began.  His tongue worked at a different pace, massaging
the underside of my penis with its own muscular rhythm.  It was beautiful to
find that he had a natural understanding of the process and was cleverly
giving me the most glorious sex I had enjoyed for a long time.  In fact, I
could not recall anyone giving me such a wonderful experience of oral sex
since the years I had spent with his father.  I tapped his shoulder and told
him I would be coming if he wanted to move his head from me.

Nick became all the more determined in his efforts, not making any attempt
at all to let go of me as I raced towards my orgasm.  I felt myself swell
that final amount in his mouth, knowing that I could no longer have
withdrawn from him of my own volition.  The juices surged in my body.  It
was almost as if I could feel the passage of my semen from my testicles,
through the fine tubing to that part of the prostatic region where the
ejaculate mixes, then the combined bulk screamed down the urethra until it
exploded into his waiting mouth.  Every nerve along that winding journey was
alive, feeling the movement of the syrupy liquid, feeling the tactile
stimulation of the warm mouth engulfing me.  Nick took all my fluids,
tasting and swallowing every drop, sucking gently until I had no more to
offer him.  Still he nursed my penis until I eased it from his lips.  I
pulled him up to me and returned his kiss as I hugged him tightly to me.

"Thank you, Dad.  That was awesome.  I hope I did it right for you?"  Always
concerned to do the correct thing, Nick asked the question.  "Of course you
did it right," I assured him.  "It was . . . . ."  I stopped myself from
saying it was like his father and said instead, "It was really wonderful.
Thank you Nick."  He hugged himself into me and I felt his hard penis, this
time sticking into my abdomen.  Pushing himself gently, he began a rocking
motion that eventually became a longer thrusting as his young need manifest
itself again.  I adjusted my hug so I could lie on my back, and then pulled
him on top of my body, squeezing his buttocks till he resumed his pattern of
movement again.  Nick eased himself downwards, pushing his penis deeply into
the crevasse between my legs, letting the precum lubricate the way for him
to reach his orgasm again.  The thrusts became longer and quicker as his
moment came closer, until, with a gasp, he made his final push and spilt his
semen onto me.

I held him tightly, feeling the breathing become steadier and his heartbeat
slowing as he subsided.  His hard penis still wedged between my legs, Nick
fell asleep on top of me as I held him all the more.  I could not sleep
again.  There was too much wonder in my heart to allow any of it to be lost
to unconsciousness.  I held my lovely boy in my arms, my son, and made a
prayer of thanks to God for giving me this unexpected and undeserved joy.

Chris came in to the room a few minutes later.  It was brighter now and I
could see him clearly.  He was naked, and his rigid penis stood proudly out
from his body.  When he saw that I was awake he slipped immediately into bed
with Nick and myself, pulling himself tightly into me, the motion rousing
Nick.  I felt his hand work its way between Nick and myself, Nick rolling
off me to the other side in response to this invasion.  Chris found the pool
of semen between my legs that he knew his little brother had recently
deposited it there and, taking a handful, he smeared the smooth fluid over
his own penis.  With long, luxurious strokes he began masturbating, using
the spent semen as lubrication.  Nick was drowsily watching his brother,
hugging me as if he would never let go.  Chris turned his head to me and we
kissed gently.  Pushing his tongue into my mouth, Chris began a deep and
sensuous exploration of my oral cavity and teeth, all the while wanking his
rigid penis.

I eased Nicks arm from over my chest so it would not be crushed, then pulled
Chris up on to my body.  He immediately found the place where his brother
had been and began diving into the same wet cavity.  His penis was strongly
seeking release, and the lubricated place between my legs was obviously very
comfortable for him.  Nick put his arm over his brothers' shoulder; the
other still lodged under my neck, and held us both in his embrace.  Chris
thrust, not quickly, but with very long strokes, as if the tangible
sensation was more important than the speed.  I felt him stiffen and swell
in the final stages, but still he maintained the slow and methodical
thrusting into my thigh muscles, even as the explosions of semen began
erupting.  Right to the very end of his climax, Chris sustained that steady
thrusting movement, pumping semen in copious quantities onto my legs, adding
to the pool already there, the overflow dripping over my balls and onto the
bed beneath.

He finally depleted his resources, and lay panting on my chest.  I knew that
Chris would remain hard, unless he had already come recently beforehand but
I did not think he had.  After a few moments, Chris rolled off me and lay
beside me.  I moved down the bed to take his rigid member in my mouth,
tasting, as I did, his and his brothers semen, although there was no way I
could differentiate between the two.  He pushed himself into my mouth,
allowing his foreskin to roll back and completely uncover the head as he
drove the length of my tongue.  Reaching the restriction of my throat, Chris
paused as if unsure he could continue or not.  I pulled him further in to me
and he pushed on into my gullet.  Whether it was the additional friction or
the unusual rolling back of his foreskin, I don't know, but immediately he
began to shoot his second load of semen, this time directly into my throat.
Powerful shot followed vigorous shot as his strong tool produced another
discharge.

Eventually Chris eased himself out of my mouth.  I was sated with delightful
thick juices, the boys sated with their needs met, and the three of us
enamoured with each other and the loving sharing we had completed.  I moved
back into my place between the boys and we lay in blissful closeness for a
short while.  Chris moved to touch my penis, indicating that he wanted to
give me release as well, but I shook my head and he understood that I did
not need stimulation.  Instead he held my penis gently in his warm hand,
providing me with more than enough comfort and assuring me in the expression
of his love.  Nick was the first to move, saying that he needed to pee.
Chris volunteered to put water on to boil and make some coffee while I
showered and dressed for the day.  Connie was awake and Chris showered him
while he had his own shower.  It was not long before we were all sitting in
the sunroom near the fire, sipping coffee and smoking our first cigarettes
of the day.

Sundays are usually a quiet day for me.  I often play the pipe organ at a
local church, an ability I learned in my youth when I lived for a short
while in Indonesia, and still do as often as possible, but I had arranged
not to play this Sunday because of the weekend activities in the city with
Nick.  We used the day as a planning day - all of us sitting around the
dining table and making our contributions to how we saw the future
developing.  We worked out the irrigation system that the boys would need
for their property and we talked about Connie's need for work in a few
months when he finished his university studies.  It was a pleasant day,
punctuated with meal breaks at the appropriate times.

During the day Connie had explained to me about his degree.  He was in the
Faculty of Natural and Agricultural Sciences at the University of Western
Australia, my own alma mater after transferring from the University of
Queensland, although my degree was in applied electrical engineering.  His
studies had majored on soil science, plant nutrition, land management and
rehabilitation; sustainable regional development and planning; agronomy,
animal science and food production; and the broad-spectrum study of economic
analysis applied to agricultural and natural systems.  Included in these
studies were aspects of the ecology and physiology of indigenous flora and
fauna, environmental science, some geology and wildlife conservation and
management.

His problem at the moment was formulating his thesis, which was to be
complete in September.  He had defined the outline, written a lot of the
textual content, but had not really identified a thematic approach on which
to hang the rest of the material.  He had researched both basic and applied
areas of agricultural science and, in his thesis, covered both managed and
natural ecosystems.  Connie said he really wanted to make a case study of a
primary product that he could follow the logical train from ground selection
to product consumption.  Cereal crops, fruits and vegetables had been done
to death, so he wanted a new theme.

That evening I offered Connie a job.  "You need somewhere to apply your
learning, and I need someone with your kind of knowledge to manage my olive
trees.  There are things I just don't know enough about, bearing in mind
that my background is in computer sciences, not agriculture or horticulture.
  Would you please take the position of Grove Manager on my property?  I
will offer you a competitive salary, give you a work vehicle and, if you are
happy to live here, we can do up the cottage down in the river paddock for
you to live in.  If you need time to think about it, or want to talk with
the boys first, please don't feel that you need to answer just yet.
Besides, you wont be able to start work till the end of the year when your
studies are complete and final submissions made."

Connie thought before he replied.  "James, it would give me great pleasure
to work for you.  You don't have to do anything special like you said.  You
have already done so much for my brothers, and me, it is time I did
something for you.  I have to hope my arms soon heal properly so I can get
back into working again!  We can talk more about the details later, but I
want to tell you right now that I accept your offer.  And what is more, you
have just given me the theme I need for my thesis.  I am going to use the
cycle of olive husbandry to consumer market.  It fits perfectly with the
work I have already done and it is something I don't think anyone else has
ever used as his or her major theme before.  Thank you for both these
things, James."  Awkwardly he kissed me, his arms becoming more of a
nuisance each day as he had to work around them.

Wayan came to stay with us two weekends over the remaining semester break,
adding his cheerful disposition and lively humour to our family.  It was a
pleasure to get to know him better, and the younger brothers were very
accepting of him, proudly showing him around both my farm and their own
property.  Just before the university vacation ended, Connie was able to
have his dressings and splints removed and regain the use of his fully
mended arms.  He had not been able to go back to work at all during the
convalescent period, spending the time at my place dictating his thesis
while I typed it for him on my computer.  Winter became spring, and with the
burst of new shoots and flowers came a renewed vigour on our part.  When
Connie had been resettled at the College in Perth for his final semester,
Chris and I went to work on the irrigation system for his vegetable plots.

By time the September school holidays came around we were ready to lay
pipes.  Nick, Chris and I toiled from early morning to early evening,
stopping only for meals and necessary breaks, until the main and sub-main
pipes had been installed.  My major contribution to the project was in the
planning and to stand the financing; with an understanding that Chris made
me agree to that I would accept repayment of the cost at a later date.
Chris's hair had grown back to a good length and he cropped it into a
pageboy style, accentuating the beautiful features of his finely defined
face.  The three of us wore only shorts as we worked, and our skins darkened
with the long hours of exposure to the warming sun.  When Connie and Wayan
came to spend a weekend with us they both made comment on the "three black
fellows" who now lived in their home.

Once the irrigation was complete we started on the cottage.  This had been
the original house on my property but a previous owner had upgraded to the
house in which I now lived, leaving the cottage idle.  I had not had any
reason to use it in the time I had owned the property, my own house being
more than sufficient for my needs.  The boys went down there with me one
morning and were surprised to find it in good repair.  It had only been used
for storage over the past several years and not a lot of deterioration had
occurred to it.  It was a two-bedroom house with a reasonably large living
area.  There were few of the appliances your would normally find in a modern
house, so we began working out what was needed to bring it up to date.
Contractors came in and began to bring the cottage to sparkling condition,
leaving Chris and I to tend to things like the garden and shed.

One day Chris and I found that the contractors had finished and we were at
the house by ourselves.  Everything had been done well and the house looked
good.  Fresh paint and new floor coverings completed the renovation, setting
of the new cooking and refrigeration facilities and the furniture we had
added to the place.  It had been a hot day and we went inside to rest.
After lunch, we lay down on the lounge floor to rest.  Shorts were quickly
discarded and we hugged, despite the heat of the day.  It was not long
before our penises had risen to demand attention, and we coiled ourselves
around to make it possible for throbbing penises to be inserted into waiting
mouths.  Chris had already given me his load twice in the morning, so I did
not expect him to reach his peak as quickly as he did.  He seemed to have an
endless supply of semen, and this time he convulsed quickly, spraying the
warm liquid deeply into my mouth and throat.  I had just finished swallowing
his delightful draught when I came strongly in his throat.  Both of us were
drained from the spontaneous and quick release of our sexual need, and fell
asleep as we were on the floor.

Nikolas came into my thoughts.  I don't think I was still asleep, sort of
half awake and half asleep.  I remembered back to the ending of our
relationship.  We had an enduring but not florid love that was constant
throughout the changes of season and work demand, and it lasted us well for
seven years.  My father died and I had to leave Sandplains to go home and
attend to the family affairs.  I knew I would be gone for some time.  He
cried with me, both sharing my grief at the loss of my father and
anticipating the grief of our leave-taking.  The separation from Nikolas was
painful, for both of us, yet we did not keep in touch.  Perhaps we had known
that our lives were not intended to be together forever, so we treasured
what we had rather than yearned for what we could not maintain.

It was about two years after my Dad died that I was able to take some time
off from the farm my dad had bought when he completed his work in Indonesia.
  I went looking for Nikolas.  The people at Sandplains were very happy to
see me again and wanted to know if I was coming back to work.  I told them I
had plenty of work on my farm and could not come back to work on their
property.  They told me that Nikolas had stayed until six months ago and
then, one day, decided to leave.  With his mailing address in hand I thought
I might try to look him up, but the address he had left was a friend's
house.  The friend told me Nikolas was going to be married before Christmas.
  I never saw him again, thinking it best that he should follow the course
of life he had chosen with my blessing, not my interference.

Somehow the love I had for Nikolas and his love for me had come around in a
vast circle, skipping a generation and returning to me not from my lover,
but in the form of his children.  I had lost my Nikolas, but I had gained
ever so much more.  In a strange way he had prepared them for when he would
not be there, and, at the right moment, they had found me.  We had instantly
clicked:  Chris as my new love, Nick as my son and Connie as my friend and
partner.  I awoke fully and felt refreshed and released.  Chris stirred
beside me and hugged me tightly, as if he understood the mental transaction
that had taken place in my semi-dream, and giving me his assurance that it
had been the right thing to do.



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