Drink Of Africa

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

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

Drink of Africa

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

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

"But not you." I replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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written by explorerxsport