Descent into Chaos

The Talons of Africa

I was pulling quietly up to the cottage not long after the break of the next day. The brilliant colors of the landscape and the purity of the atmosphere were magnificent in the early-morning light. I could see how Africa could get its talons in a person. I could understand why Alister had made the choice he had, especially now that I had seen his sons. This wouldn’t really be hurting Alister. This would be releasing Alister, which I now felt prepared to do as I was now released from him. He could merge into the kraal life of the Shona in Epworth. He’d be all right through the hard times to come. He’d be one of Rhodesia’s survivors. The sons of the House of Devon—regardless of never being accepted in England—would be enough for Alister here in Africa.

And this would be releasing Pamela, and her deep-seated guilt too. Or at least I told myself that’s what I would be doing for her.

All was quiet at the cottage. For some reason I had assumed that I’d hear Alister’s booming voice, his acid tongue at work, if he had returned already. I quietly mounted the stairs to the veranda. I stood, ready to knock at the door, but then I heard the moaning. My heart went dead, and it was on leaden feet that I pushed the screen door open and crossed the highly polished parquet floor and looked into the bedroom beyond.

They were stretched out in the middle of the massive stinkwood four-poster bed, covered in the brightest of white muslin. They were both naked. Pamela was lying on her back in the center of the bed, her knees wide, the heels of her feet planted on the bed, and rocking her pelvis up and down.

Penny, the young, muscular Shona house servant, was crouched between Pamela’s knees, his hips pushing in and out in rapid motion, the muscles of his bulbous butt cheeks contracting and releasing, fucking her hard and deep. I was moved by the contrasting color of the merging and writhing bodies—and by the power and beauty of his gleaming, heavily muscled body—massive strength working her delicate, white body like a musical instrument. Overpowering, brute strength, taking her willowy, compliant body, even in the realization of the steel and resilience of her, meeting every thrust with a thrusting power of her own. Not a powerless taking, but a machine of contrasting parts working in brilliant concert.

Pamela was moaning and sighing as she’d never done for me or, last evening, for Gavin either. She was murmuring to him in that click-clacky language of the Shona. She was writhing under her Shona lover as she had never done for me. She was crying out in a voice of passion that I had never heard before.

I could not help myself. I crept closer rather than retreating. The vision of Pamela and Gavin fucking beyond the beaded curtain at the hotel bar—and the emotion of what I had wanted at that point—flooded me and kept me in the room—not just in the room, but creeping closer to the bed. What Alister had said, back in the rondavel, swam up from the depths. “Think of her as Pamela.” No pretense now. It was Pamela. Pamela and a young, muscular man at the height of his desirability. I wanted Pamela in a newly discovered shared coupling, but I didn’t want just Pamela. I wanted Penny too. And I wanted him fucking me like he was fucking Pamela. I knew I had wanted that the first time I saw him in his dance of polishing the bungalow floor. My hand went to the zipper of my bush shorts.

I was close enough now that Pamela saw me. It was almost as if she had expected to see me, as if she had planned this. At least I could assuage any guilt I felt by imagining that this was the case. She brought the young Shona stud’s ear down to her mouth and whispered something to him. He turned his head and looked at me. Both of them were looking at me and smiling. But he was still pumping her in strong, deep thrusts, and Pamela arched her head back and gave a low moan at the working of the cock inside her—a moan I’d never heard from her before, I moan I would like to be making.

Penny laughed, a low, musical laugh, and he smiled at me. And then he rolled over to the side and laid on his back, still, as, facing me, Pamela mounted his hips and positioned his engorged cock at her asshole. She gasped and grunted as he pulled her ass down on his cock, and then grasped her breasts with his large, brown hands and pulled her torso back onto his chest. His thighs laced under hers and spread and lifted her thighs, which tilted her pelvis up to me. I could see his gigantic cock swallowed in her stretched rear channel, moving in and out. And her triangle and slit undulated, invitingly, before my eyes.

Through grimaces, Pamela looked up and smiled at me. A welcoming, beckoning smile.

Then I was shucking my clothes and climbing onto the bed and straddling their pelvises from above, and entering her cunt slowly, but strongly, reveling in the feel of his huge moving brown cock just across the internal membrane from mine. And we were sighing and groaning and moaning and gasping and grunting and churning our hips in one coordinated primeval fuck that was sending my spirits up above it all—above the England where I’d come from and the deconstructing Africa where I now was—up, up, into the unknown future, wherever that might be. But the one known thing to me was that this was the sexual experience I now strove for.

With slight, knowing smile, Pamela gently pushed on my chest, and I rose from her, instantly realizing what she was offering to me. She moved out from between us and to the side, facing us, while I positioned my hips over Penny’s groin and sank my channel on his cock. Pamela placed the palm of her hand on the small of my back and pressed and released as I rose from and descended on the black cock. Penny accepted the change readily, although he just lay there, his eyes watching me, a slight smile on his face, as I fucked myself on his cock.

I couldn’t carry it to the end. I felt like an intruder even though Penny’s cock was magnificent. I rolled to the side opposite Pamela and Penny almost immediately moved on top of Pamela, between her thighs, and inside her, and began to pump her in earnest. I remained on the bed, loath to leave them, working my cock with my hand while Pamela writhed and sighed underneath Penny.

Finished, exhausted—before the virile Shona was done pumping Pamela, I lay on my back beside the writhing bodies. A movement at the door to the room caught my attention—or what I thought was movement. But when I looked there, I saw nothing, and I had just a moment to consider that it was the breeze working the gauzy material of the bed curtain, before I heard the deep, musical laugh and felt the strong hands on my thighs, forcing them apart, and was looking into the laughing eyes of Penny again as I cried out and arched my back in response to his thick cock thrusting deep inside my channel once more, bringing me back into the fold.

Africa Wins

Gavin found me at the table in the hotel bar two hours later.

“About ready to return to Salisbury?” he asked. He was wearing that comfortable grin of his, no cares in the world, showing signs of not having heard or absorbed anything I’d said on the cottage veranda the previous afternoon.

“Yes,” I answered and took a long drag on my bottle of Lion lager. “All ready.”

“Done everything here that needed to be done?” he asked.

“No . . .Yes.” I had, in fact, done everything I needed to do—and more. Gavin himself was that one elusive itch I hadn’t scratched. I couldn’t say that I hadn’t been scratching surprise itches left and right.

“Perhaps not, or at least not to my liking,” he said with a smile that made my head jerk up and, for some reason, brought to mind that movement in Pamela’s bedroom, the realization that I had seen more than just the bed drape being played by the breeze.

“Just a moment, if you will,” he said. Then he stood and left the room. When he returned, he had a young woman in tow. A mixed-breed woman of both African and European heritage. A voluptuously built woman, short, but with heavy, firm breasts and flaring hips. He sat her down beside me and she gave me a “come hither” shy look underneath long eyelashes as Gavin sat on the other side of me. His hand went to my thigh just above my knee.

“You needn’t worry,” he said. “She’s clean and she’s mine and she likes doing it that way.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “What way?” My voice was weak, though. I had no illusions now on what I had seen in Pamela’s bedroom—who had seen us.

“I think you know.” His hand went to my basket, and I didn’t pretend I didn’t want it there. “I was there earlier today. I like it too. And I’ve wanted you since I picked you up at the airport. What I saw earlier today has just whetted my appetite. There’s little time, as I know you will be flying out tomorrow. Your room or mine?”

We started out with me fucking the woman, her lying on her back on my bed and me standing on the floor, between her spread legs and fucking her slowly and deeply. Her moans and sighs told me that she didn’t mind the arrangement in the least. Gavin watched, sitting in a chair and stroking his fine cock, until he was hard. Then he moved behind me, and I cried out in assault and glorious welcome, as he split me from behind with sure, swift strokes and cupped my chest with his hands and worried my nipples with his fingers, as we became lost in the mutual fuck.

After an interlude of heavy post-coital breathing and panting as we brought ourselves, individually, under control and rebuilt our arousal, we fucked as I had done with Alister and Abuto. This time, I felt completely free, no ancient entanglements to either of the other two partners, and found it even more arousing and fulfilling than my previous two encounters of this nature. I knew now without a doubt what I would search out when I returned to London, what had been missing before in my feeling of complete fulfillment. It would be more dangerous now—this an even greater risk in the Foreign Office than men fucking men—but even the prospect of that was arousing to me.

The woman left us at length, leaving Gavin stretched out behind me on the bed and slowly, deeply mining my channel from the rear and kissing my mouth deeply, until both of us were spent once more. Then we lay there, and he held me, as darkness descended on primeval Africa, and we talked—knowing it was our last chat. That we would not be sharing like this again.

“I hope you didn’t mind the doctor much,” Gavin whispered. “He’s a good doctor. Better than we could get out here otherwise. He just had to leave London. He’s no harm really.”

“No, there was no bother,” I answered. “I gave him what he wanted—what I think he needed. I told him I would come to him tonight and spend the night with him, if he wanted.”

“Good,” Gavin answered. “I’m sure that is what he will want. And that it will sustain him for some time. He’s the one I worry about most, you know—of all of the displaced European souls here. When the end comes here, he’s really the only one with nowhere to go but also no prospect of staying. The Shona don’t really appreciate his activities among their young men. Or at least what he attempts, although increasingly, he’s being rejected.”

I looked hard at Gavin. So, he had been listening yesterday after all. He didn’t have to be convinced of Rhodesia’s descent into chaos. And now that I looked at him, I could tell he’d be all right. He’d trained hard and well for the British South Africa Police. He’d have options.

“You?” I asked.

“I’ve been looking at brochures on Australia,” Gavin answered. And then he smiled. “A big country, a lot of space. Not so many people—robust, willing young men and women. Not that far off of what I grew up to. Before recent years.”

“But the Cullingworths?” I then said.

“Oh, Alister and Pamela? They’ll do whatever they’ll do. They are inevitably part of this land now. Alister has his Shona connections that will make him acceptable, even if only marginally. Pamela has Penny.”

“But how can they . . . stay together? They hate—”

“What makes you think they don’t love each other?” Gavin asked. And when I looked into his eyes, I suddenly realized that he was a far wiser man than I was. That he knew all there was to know. “They are Africa. They will stay here, together, to—and beyond—the end. Together. And Alister has his sons now—here.”

Perhaps it was I who had not understood, I realized. My gaze lifted to the skies beyond the uncurtained window above the bed, symbolically looking for my plane to arrive, even knowing it would not arrive before the next afternoon. Ready to let go of Rhodesia and all it stood for—knowing the name of the release I sought now. And being grateful, rather than resentful, to both Alister and Pamela for bringing me to that realization. Released from a heavy burden.

- FINI -