Majunga, when I visited it in the nineties, was one of those long forgotten run-down ports on the north of the island of Madagascar. Once it had been a thriving harbour but now it's great attraction was as a destination for a few intrepid tourists and an interesting location for a magazine photographer like myself. I'd been commissioned by a travel magazine to do a feature on the island and Majunga was going to be one of the highlights.

I like these places which are long past their best but still retain a few vestiges of their glory days as part of an empire … in this case the age of French colonialism. Point a camera in any direction and there was a good shot to be had: derelict buildings, rotting ships hulls, locals with characterful faces hanging around street-corners and plenty more.

But I do also appreciate a bit of comfort after the day's work is done and the Hotel de France which was the only hotel in town was a long way from comfortable.

The  room I had pre-booked had just an antique metal bed with an old stained mattress, and sheets which hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine for a month or two. The shower was little more than a dribble of brown water, there was no lock for the door, a pane of glass was missing from the window and the ceiling fan was hanging off it's hinges.

I was sitting disconsolately in the hotel bar on the pavement at the front of the hotel when Tony pulled to a halt in the dusty street. He ran a business farming and exporting raffia from Majunga and I had met him briefly in the island's capital a few days earlier. That's when he had offered me a place to stay while in Majunga but, being stubbornly independent I had said no. However I had suggested meeting up for a drink while I was in town and sure enough here he was like some kind of knight in shining armour to rescue me from the hell-hole of the Hotel de France.

He pulled up a seat and I ordered him a beer.

“So how do you like in our top night-spot?” he asked sarcastically.

"It's not quite what I was expecting. I haven't tried the fine-dining restaurant yet,” I smiled back just as we both spotted a large rat scurrying along a shelf behind the bar. “…..but the meat looks fresh!!”

“I know you journalist types like to rough it a bit but you could get pictures which are just as good without having to put up with all this shit. The offer of a decent place to stay is still open”

I had only met Tony quite briefly when we had a drink together back in the capital. I suspected he was probably gay but that didn't worry me. I wasn't in the least bit interested in sex with men but I had many friends who were gay and, as long as they didn't ask me to join in I had no problem with it. He seemed a nice guy … about 30 years old so the same age as me and we did have common interests; travel,  adventure, good food and drink, etc. He also seemed to have established a good life for himself on this island which was a long way from anywhere.

Never having been interested in men from a sexual point of view I paid no attention to his looks except to see that he was a pleasant looking guy, about the same height as me, 5'10'', and with a friendly smile and a good sense of humour.

He was smartly dressed in the standard 'uniform' of the British ex-patriot ….. short-sleeved safari shirt (breast pockets obligatory) and neatly pressed shorts, long white socks and khaki desert boots.

After he had described his Beach House, and looking once again at the crumbling Hotel de France, there really was not much of a decision to make.

“You're on,” I said. “It sounds like paradise compared to this place.”

He got up from the table and had a talk with the guy behind the bar and, within a few minutes my bags had been brought down from my room, and a few notes handed across as token payment. We finished our beers and jumped in Tony's Jeep speeding off through the dusty streets of the old town.

His Beach House was about half an hour out of town. We took a dirt track off the main road and passed through a little fishing village. A handful of colourful outrigger canoes called Pirogues were pulled upon the beach and small groups of fishermen wearing little more than loin cloths sat around mending nets, smoking and chatting.

I made a mental note to get back here with my cameras.

Tony seemed to know quite a few of them and stopped to chat to one guy who was leaning against a tree at the side of the road. Just before he pulled away Tony put a hand on the other man's back. His hand stayed there for longer than necessary as a perfunctory gesture and I could see he was giving the flesh a gentle squeeze.

I was getting increasingly certain that my new friend was gay, and I was also getting increasingly relaxed about it!

The road had continued along the back of the beach for a few hundred yards after the fishing village when Tony pointed to a wonderful building sitting atop a ridge at the end of the track.

“That's home” he said with obvious pride.

It was a long bungalow built from some good solid, hard wood. At either end of the building was a bedroom and in the middle, set slightly back was a kitchen, living room etc. But the main feature was the decking which stretched out in front towards the beach.

A  roof of palm fronds sheltered half the deck while the rest was open to the elements as a sun bathing area. And it was all furnished with big, expensive looking soft chairs, a sofa and smart tables.

“Welcome”, said Tony guiding me up the steps on to the deck with his hand on my back now and, yes, I do believe I detected a gentle squeeze of my flesh. I began to think that my stay here would be a whole new experience for me, and I wasn't too sure how I would react.

Then two young men emerged from the back room. They were stripped to the waist and wore coloured, short sarongs which only just covered their interesting bits.

“These are my houseboys,” as if everybody had a few houseboys hanging around.

“This is Adam,” said Tony. His hand was on the bare shoulder of the young man as he introduced him. “And this is Mark”, as he nudged the other one forward to shake my hand.

“Actually their real names have about a dozen syllables and are impossible to pronounce so I call this one Adam, after the first man, and this one Mark, as he's got rather a cute birthmark on his arse!”.

As houseboys it was their job to cook and clean for Tony, the master and I suspected that wasn't the end of their duties! They looked almost identical to me. Both were in their late teens or early twenties I guessed. They were slim and short, about 5 ft 3 inches, both had the most amazing dark chestnut coloured, smooth shiny skin and both had broad beaming smiles and bright friendly eyes.

“I'm going to have a shower and get into something more comfortable,” said Tony pointing to the sand at the side of the deck where an outdoor primitive shower had been built into the house.

“If you want to do the same I'm sure the boys can find you a spare sarong. Try it. They're really cool and comfortable. Oh, that'll be your room while you're here” he said indicating the one on the left and with that he disappeared into the other one still talking as I slumped down into one of the big comfortable armchairs to reflecton my change in of fortunes.

Tony carried on the conversation from his room:

"I should perhaps have warned you but, as you've probably gathered by now, we have a very relaxed lifestyle here. For example, nobody worries about getting their kit off. Its not as if there are any neighbours to complain and the boys, Adam and Mark, don't care. Kids in this part of the world have absolutely no inhibitions.”

With that, as if to prove a point, Tony emerged from his room stark naked with just a sarong draped over his arm, on his way to the shower. He stopped next to where I sat back in the armchair, his crotch just a few inches from my face. Up until this point in my life if I had seen that any man had caught me looking at his naked body I would have quickly turned away blushing but now I found myself staring at this cock so near to my face that I could almost feel its warmth on my face.

“Here things are different,” he went on . The local people have a totally different attitude to life. They don't give a toss about nudity. They don't consider themselves heterosexual or homosexual, gay or straight .... they don't have such labels. Same sex or opposite sex, it makes no difference to them and, do you know what? I think they've got the right idea. "

"Unless I've got you completely wrong, I guess you'll like it too, even if it will take you a while to get used to the idea."

It he seems that Tony knew me better than I knew myself. I think I had already got used to the idea and was about to give into an irresistible urge to stretch out an arm to touch his manhood, but before I had a chance he walked on, hopping down onto the sand and under the shower. He knew he had got me hooked and he gave me a wry smile before turning his back and beginning to soap himself.

One of the “boys” brought me a beer and I settled back to admire the view. I should have been looking at the Indian Ocean and the idyllic palm-fringed beach but my gaze constantly went back to Tony and the show he was obviously putting on for my benefit in the shower.

His muscular body was well tanned although it wasn't an all-over tan so he didn't sunbathe completely nude I thought. He spent an exaggerated time soaping and rubbing his pecs and nipples before devoting all his attention to his cock and balls, soaping them thoroughly and running one hand back and forth along the length of his shaft.

If it was all designed to get my own cock rising, it worked.

“Your turn,” he said stepping out of the shower and I quickly joined him on the sand. Realising it was pointless trying to hide my semi-erection I threw off my shirt and dropped my shorts and pants and stood before him naked, my aroused cock pointing straight at him. He stretched out a hand and gently touched it, his finger playing along its length. He grabbed its tip between forefinger and thumb and gave it a playful squeeze.

“Good to see you like it here” he winked and walked off drying himself has he went, then tying his sarong around his hips. I felt slightly cheated that our naked closeness had been so brief, but guessed that this was all part of his teasing me.

My shower was brief as I wanted to re-join Tony on the deck and see where all this was going to lead. As I began to dry myself Mark, with perfect timing, appeared at my side and handed me a sarong. But he could see I was a stranger to the garment and not sure how to tie it.

With me standing unashamedly naked next to him he expertly folded the cloth and passed it either side of me, tying it deftly on my hip which involved him stretching his arms around me. I noticed he deliberately rubbed his forearm against my crotch as he tied a knot in the material. And then he smoothed down the cloth with slow strokes over my butt and my crotch. As he did so he tilted his head up toward me and smiled the most melting of smiles.

I pulled up a comfortable chair opposite Tony and found a beer already poured for me. Now it was the turn of the houseboys for the shower and we sat and watched as Adam and Mark stripped and stepped under the water together. They were both impressively endowed which for some reason surprised me as they looked so young.

“God, suddenly I'm an expert on cock-size!” I thought to myself. How quickly life can change!

They soaped each other gently and spent ages fondling, stroking and gently pulling each other's cocks, cradling the balls and stretching below to that sensitive area between the scrotum and the rectum.

The water glistened on their beautiful skin and I found myself fighting a desire to join them, to run my fingers over that skin and even to take hold of those lovely handsome cocks. I kept wondering what I'd been missing for the past 30 years.

We sat drinking and talking for another few hours and it seemed the sexual tension just kept on building.

Tony would occasionally shift position, his sarong would fall open giving a tantalising glimpse of his cock which was tenting the material.

Or he would hold his cock under the material. Adam would stand by him and Tony would run his hand up and down the boy's thigh sometimes over the sarong and sometimes under. Adam in return would massage Tony's pecs and play with his nipples. Standing behind him and bending over the back of the chair, the boy's arms stretched further and further down Tony's chest, caressing and fondling as they made their way towards his crotch where his cock made a tent in the cloth.

As all this was happening, Mark knelt in front of me and started massaging my calf muscles, moving his hands further and further up my legs. Then he stood and allowed his sarong to fall open exposing his crotch, just out of my reach.

It was if there was some kind of sexual explosive in the air just waiting for a spark to ignite. In other circumstances I would have disappeared to my room to jack off in a blissful session, but now I just sat and watched the scene unfold.

Darkness had fallen and a full moon was rising from the horizon reflecting in a dazzling golden path on the sea. Thinking a skinny dip would be a chance to release the tension in my balls, I asked Tony if it was safe to swim.

“Safe as houses,” he said. “But it's probably best if Mark keeps an eye on you as you've had a few drinks.” This wasn't quite what I had in mind but it seemed sensible.

Tony said something to Mark in the local lingo and the boy leapt into action, grabbing a couple of beach towels and leaping down onto the sand and off to the water edge before I could say anything to him. I followed at a more leisurely pace thinking to myself that I had suddenly lost any reservations I may have had about gay sex.

The moon was so bright that it was almost like daytime and I could see that Mark had laid the towels out on the sand.

Laughing, he bowed deeply and waved an arm elaborately across the towels as if welcoming me formally to a palace. Since neither of us really understood the other's language it appeared that this was now to be conducted in a mock music-hall comedy mime.

I bowed to him, formally as if thanking him for the invitation. He stepped forward and bowed to me again, stretching out his arms to my hip where the sarong was knotted. Staring into my eyes he slowly untied the knot and pulled the material away from around my waist.

Now I stood before him completely naked, our eyes still fixed on each other until he looked down to see that my cock was once again rising to the occasion.

I responded by reaching out to his sarong, undoing the knot at his hip and allowing the cloth to drop to the sand. Again we paused, close enough to feel the heat of our bodies.

I put my hands on his shoulders and pulled him towards me so that our bodies touched. He raised his head to mine and we kissed.

I had never kissed a man before and the sensation went like a shock through my body. At first it was no more than a feather-light touching together of our lips, but gradually our lips parted and our tongues began to probe each other.

We pulled each closer so that chest touched chest and cock touched cock and our bodies gyrated together in a silent blissful dance which I wanted to last forever. My hands frantically ran up and down his back which was every bit as smooth and sensual as I had anticipated I felt down to his pert little arse softly taking a buttock in each hand, squeezing gently and lifting him slightly so that our raging hard cocks rubbed together as we moved up and down and side to side.

Our gyrations grew more active and, still locked together we fell over onto the towels rolling around as if trying to climb inside each other's body. When eventually we pulled our mouths apart I found myself lying under the young man as he began gradually to work his way down my body with his lips and tongue. He wrapped his lips around my nipples and sucked as much of the flesh as he could into his mouth before travelling further down towards my aching groin.

He tongued and tickled my navel and I could feel my cock rubbing against the top of his chest, then his neck and then his lips, and then, God the bliss of it, I felt his mouth close gently around the tip of my manhood, his tongue skilfully probing my piss-hole. I could have screamed with the pleasure of the feeling.

He wrapped one hand around my balls and played with them as he slowly took more and more of my rod into his mouth until I could feel the back of his throat. Expertly he worked my cock in and out of his mouth taking me rapidly to the point of no return.

The build-up of the evening, and now this ecstasy was too much and I knew that I could last no longer. Mark too knew that I was ready as with his other hand he grabbed my arse and pulled me even further into him. I could feel a finger probing my hole giving me a feeling of ecstasy I had never before experienced but before he could penetrate far into me I exploded into his mouth.

I had never ever cum with such force, my whole body shaking uncontrollably as Mark's mouth continued to work on my cock,agonisingly sucking every drop from my balls. Eventually finished he lifted his head from my groin and slid back up my body to find my mouth with his own and to fill me with my own seed.

We remained locked in a kiss for a glorious eternity, or so it seemed, until we eventually rolled apart to lay exhausted on our backs.

I stared up at the stars knowing that somehow, this was only the start.



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