Date: Sun, 4 Jun 2006 15:34:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robin Reed <any_mouse2003@yahoo.com>
Subject: Africans 2/high school/beginnings

This contains references to graphic sex between males.
If you are under eighteen, or the subject of an
oppressive government that prohibits this material,
don't read it. Practise safe sex. All rights reserved
Any_mouse2003@yahoo.com

Collared

My relationship with William was completely different
than that one that emerged between me and Mr. Obote.

William used me as his sex toy, and there was joy in
the way we shared the pleasure of his cock. He was
playful, and being my age, he was capable of
ejaculating several times. That meant there was much
to be enjoyed and savored, laughing at the warm jets
that shot from him.

I loved sucking him, and the taste of him on my lips
and face if he pulled out to spray me. Then, with the
most immediate urge slaked, he enjoyed pushing me on
my back, and placing my heels on his shoulders as he
slid his way into my ass.

I had learend to lubricate mself before I came to his
house, not that he was ungentle. He just was big, and
the lube helped. That was the way way I liked it best
with him, fbut Imust say that being flopped over the
bed and taken doggie style, rammed hard from behind
was almost as good. The pressure of my cock against
the matress almost alwasy made me cum, and afterwards
William would laugh in glee when I licked up the mess.

One image will always stay with me from that magical
year with my Africans. Mr. Obote asked that I spend
Saturdays at the house, and I arrangedit with my Mom
as a sort of foreign exchange program. Ostensibly, the
purpose was to  spend time with William, and take care
of his natural needs. But it was clear that Mr. obote
was as alone as his son, and he needed me to care for
him as well.

I remember it being a winter, early dusk, with dirty
mid-western dirty snow on the ground. A fire in the
fire place in the richly appointed library. Mr. Obote
sitting in his desk chair, looking at me, his eyes
reflecting the flames.

I'm nude, of course, since that is the way father and
son liked me when I visited. I would be admitted by
the servant, and taken to the little dressing room
William and I had used to prepare for our initiation.
There I would disrobe, and stand proudly naked.

I only wore one thing. It was symbolic in a way that I
could sense but did not fully understand.

The first time I wore the collar, William and his
Father were there to watch me strip. They both
remained fully dressed, and I felt awkward. William
embraced me, saying that I looked wonderful,
vulnerable and proud. I could feel my cock twitch at
that in desire.

Mr. Obote had something in his hand. It was a hoop of
beaten metal. He raised to my face, saying that my
nakedness was a thing of great beauty, but needed a
ornament of submission. I looked at the hoop. I
realized it was a collar, maybe an inch wide with a
thin hasp to close it. There did not appear to be a
lock, through there was a place where one could be
placed. A single ring by which a tether could be
placed was held by a welded bracket on the side.

"This is a symbol, Joe, for we do not believe in the
corporal subjugation of your mind. Your submission to
us is purely voluntary. You may remove this at any
time, of course. But it would signify our relationship
in a manner that I think will gratify us both."

I nodded, hesitantly. He smiled and raised the hoop,
stretching it slightly to fit around my slim neck. He
pressed it back together and I could hear the hasp
click into place.

It was cold, though the heat of my flesh would warm
it, I knew. When he removed his hands, the collar
slipped down on my neck slightly, resting just above
my collarbones. It was both light in weight, and the
heaviest thing I have ever felt. My cock strained
upward, and I shuddered when Mr. Obote caressed my
ballsack, caressing my testicles before sending
William and I off to play.

The end of the afternoon always came in the library.
After William had fed himself to me, and taken me, he
would walk me to the library. The taste of his semen
was on my lips, and I licked them greedily to get the
last goodness from his seed.

Sometimes he would clip a leash to the ring on my
collar. Other times he simply allowed me to walk a
pace behind him. Mr. Obote would be waiting there for
me, sitting in his chair with the lights out.

The only illumination came from the fire. I would take
up a position by the fireplace where he could observe
me. My lithe dancer's body was highlighted against the
dark wood by the flickering of the dancing flames. My
only adornment was the black collar against my white
skin.

Sometimes he would speak to me for what seemed like
hours in his warm deep voice, telling me stories of
his village. The dim red light danced over his massive
torso. Sometimes William would get me off, or I would
have the residue of both of our sperm on my lips and
mouth. But in Mr. Obote's presence I always got hard
again, fascinated by him like a rabbit before a snake.

I would stand half-engorged with anticipation. My soft
brown eyes are downcast, in respect, but I could sense
the urgency in him. It hung in the air between us like
a sweet cloud.

With a gesture, Mr. Obote would eventually summon me
to my place: my knees on the rich oriental carpet,
between the massive ebony thighs. When given
permission, hands at my sides in submission, I would
began to nuzzle on his massive serpent, pressing back
his foreskin with my tongue, savoring the musty flavor
of him as he swelled, then suckling on its power and
majesty.

I loved to look up to see the fire glimmers in Mr.
Obote's eyes as he feels the darting tongue and
insistent suck. Joe can only consume half of the
mighty cock before he begins to gag. Still, I plunged
on until it was fully lodged deep in my throat, almost
choking me. I was proud of this particular skill I
learned in my devotion to orally please this man who
seemed carved of spice and ebony.

When the Nigerian's eruption comes, the rich river of
man-seed is delivered direct to my stomach. I look up
in gratitude for the reward, and when the master is
clean, I return to his position by the fire, waiting
patiently until he is ready to fuck me, or use me in
any way that he wishes.

I was content that winter. I had found my place.
Removing the collar when I dressed to go home was a
wrench, but nothing like how I felt when they were
gone.

Mr. Obote presented me with the collar after our last
encounter, saying that it would signify a relationship
that would last a lifetime. I almost wanted to wear it
home.

Peace Corps Days next, if you ask nicely
any_mouse2003@yahoo.com