In just a few days at the house on the beach in Madagascar Tony the Englishman and his two local “house-boys” had introduced me to the ecstasy of passionate man sex. Together we had swum naked in the Indian Ocean and explored each other's bodies in a way I had never before experienced.


After the frenzied sexual activity of the first few days I soon settled into a blissful, relaxed routine at the Beach House, and there was always a feeling of excitement in the air as if, at any moment, we would set about each other's bodies.

Most days would begin with a skinny-dip in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean. Sometimes I would be myself but, on good days, one of the houseboys Adam or Mark would join me playing in the water like kids and finding any excuse for body contact.

After breakfast ….fresh fruit and strong coffee, I would pack my camera, sketchbook and paints into my rucksack and stroll along the beach to the fishing village which was about half a mile away. I had an idea at the back of my mind about putting together a selection of paintings and photographs for an exhibition somewhere, sometime in the future. And there was no shortage of material.

The fishermen very soon got used to me and carried on going about their work while I sketched or photographed. They wore the bare minimum of clothing, either a short, coloured sarong or a simple loin cloth wrapped around their waists. I had never before been so close to so much naked men's flesh but never before had I ever been interested in such delights. Now, after less than a week in the Beach House I was like a child in a sweetshop. It took a huge effort to concentrate on my work when all around me there was the temptation to stretch out and touch, stroke, kiss those beautiful bodies.

Until comparatively recently this was like so many islands in the Indian Ocean which could only be visited by ship. The sailors of so many nationalities inevitably mixed with the local girls with the result that they produced offspring of a variety of different colours and this was why the skin of these fishermen varied from light coffee colour to as black as ivory. As if their bodies weren't attractive enough some of them had decorated their skin with primitive signs and symbols smeared on in coloured pigment or clay.

Without exception they had slim, slightly muscular physiques with skin as tight as a drum and without an ounce of fat. In short they were perfect, multi-coloured subjects for an artist and subjects of almost uncontrollable lust for a new convert to man-sex, like me

About a week after I arrived Tony suddenly announced that he had to return to England for a few weeks for some business meetings, and to catch up with old friends. It came as a bit of a shock as I imagined it would mean me having to move out but he instantly reassured me.

"If you don't mind can you look after the place while I'm away." He had guessed correctly that I was in no hurry to get back to the 'real' world. Thanks to an inheritance I had enough money to see me through for a year or two and I could still operate here as a freelance journalist/photographer.

"I'm sure I'll be back in a fortnight and if you do have to move on, just leave the boys in charge."

Adam and Mark smiled broadly, as ever. I was sure it wasn't the first time they had been left alone in the place and I wondered what the two of them got up to on their own..... and would I be able to join in!

"To say it would be a pleasure Tony is a huge understatement. A house on the beach, endless sunshine, two amazing 'boys' to take care of my every need…….. who could ask for anything more?!”

The following morning Tony had packed up one of his Land Rovers and was bidding us farewell, leaving me puzzling about the sudden nature of his departure. Why the urgency as he must have known about the meeting for some time? Why had he not mentioned it before?

After I'd waved him off I turned to see the boys. I had had an idea about a photo session I wanted to do with Adam and Mark and, now that we suddenly found ourselves with nothing else to do, it seemed like a good time to put my idea into action.

Although their English was improving I still had to communicate most things with hand signals but somehow I managed to get the message across that I wanted them to pose for me. Judging by their wide smiles … pearly teeth sparkling against their dark skinned faces … they were very willing models.

I took hold of Adam's shoulders, guided him to the bed/mattress on the decking, and got him to lay down leaning on one arm and facing the camera. He was wearing a short sarong which as he positioned himself, rode up his body exposing a smooth thigh. His cock was just hidden by the material so I went close and adjusted it slightly so that the base of his cock was tantalisingly exposed, giving just a hint of what lay beneath.

I had paid a lot of money for one of the new digital cameras which were only just coming on to the market and which made the job of a photographer like me so much easier. Without having to worry about wasting expensive film I was able to take dozens of photographs of him from every angle. 

When I indicated that he should get rid of the sarong he did so without hesitation, ripping it off and throwing it to the ground revealing his wonderful cock lying, soft and inviting on his inner thigh.

More photographs with lots of close-ups and then I got Mark to crouch beside him on the mattress. Without having to be asked he too stripped off his sarong and bent down naked next to Adam, laying a hand on the other boy's thigh and staring into the camera lens like a professional model.  On my instructions and signals he gradually moved his hand closer to Adam's crotch, with me recording every sensual moment.

I went close and took hold of Mark's hand gently placing it on Adam's sleeping dick and leaving my hand on top of his as he slowly stroked and fondled it into life. Together we made him stiff as a rod.

I took away my hand and stepped back to pick up the camera again as Adam rolled onto his back, his penis standing like a pole and pointing skyward. The two of them needed no more posing instructions from me as they became lost in their own world of sexual contact.

Mark stood up, straddled Adam's body and slowly lowered himself until he could feel the tip of Adam's prick against his arse. He stretched an arm behind him and took hold of Adam's stiff organ, guiding it between his cheeks to that hidden door to his body. Slowly, very slowly, he lowered himself further.

I bent to take close-ups as the swollen prick pressed into him, very gradually and sensually disappearing as it penetrated ever deeper into the boy's body. I sensed Mark wince with pain as, without any lube, the firm penis must have hurt as it pushed into him.

When it was buried deep to the base so that only his balls and ball-sack pressed against Adam's hole, the pair of them stopped moving but I could see the flesh on Mark's buttocks and thighs moving as his muscles worked on gripping Adam's cock, milking it as he had done to me a few days before. I knew the wonderful sensations that Adam was experiencing and my own cock rose to stiffness so that I took hold of it and slowly masturbated as I watched the two boys pleasuring each other on the bed.

The more that Mark worked his muscles, the louder came the groans of pleasure from Adam and as he approached his climax the two of them moved their bodies together in perfect harmony until, with a scream of orgasmic ecstasy Adam raised his hips, thrust deeper and burst in the warmth of his friend's body.

I was fast approaching climax myself and stepped closer to offer my cock towards Mark's face. He eagerly wrapped his lips around me licking, kissing and teasing me until he took me deep into his mouth. All too soon I exploded into him and my orgasm sent an uncontrollable shudder through my body. My legs gave way and I collapsed onto the bed beside them so that the three of us lay in a heap of naked bodies, breathing in the heady smell of sweat and sex.

Only then did I realise that Mark, who had pleasured us both, had been the only one of us not to have climaxed and I stretched out a hand to take hold of him intent on sucking him to relief. To my surprise he pulled my hand off him and rolled his body away. He shook his head and smiled saying something in the local Malagasay language. I didn't understand the words but his smile seemed to say that now was not the time. Perhaps later, I thought and hoped.

We spent the rest of the day lazing around the Beach House. Every couple of hours the 'boys' would bring out plates of food and perhaps a cold beer seemingly anticipating my every need and making me feel like a king. I kept thinking I was living some kind of dream.

In the late afternoon we had a visitor. I had noticed him earlier at the fishing village, a handsome young man, a little taller than the rest and carrying himself with an air of authority……. not easy when dressed only in a short, blue sarong wrapped loosely around his waist. His skin was darker than most of the others but as smooth and hairless as silk. I assumed he must be quite an important figure in the community and was surprised when he introduced himself in reasonable English, or at least English that was just about understandable.

“Tony calls me Peter”, he said. Instinctively I stretched out an arm to shake hands. For a moment he looked a bit bewildered by this but then he too stretched out an arm and we shook hands in a self-conscious manner. He laughed at this unusual form of greeting and then held onto my hand for rather longer than normal!

“Good to meet you Peter,” I said. But that is where the conversation ended and he just stood in front of me silently.

One of the boys broke the embarrassing silence by bringing him a glass of fruit juice which he took thankfully and drained in one.

“You paint me?” he eventually asked and at last I discovered that his visit had a purpose. It wasn't quite what I was expecting but I thought it an interesting idea and busied myself by retrieving my sketch-pad and pencils and, sitting where I could see him at his best. 

I started to sketch. He started laughing again.

“No” he said. “You paint me.”

“Yes” I said indicating the sketch-pad.

“No. Paint here,” and he ran a hand up and down his bare chest. It still took a while for the message to sink in but eventually I understood.

“You mean body paint? Paint your body?” And I made signs as if I was holding a paint-brush to his chest.

“Please,” he said.

It took a lot of conversation in broken English and a lot of sign language to demonstrate that I didn't have the right paints to do the job ….although I was itching to have a go! Just the thought of being in close contact with his naked body was enough to stir my cock into action.

“Morrow I bring paint,” he said.

“That would be great,” I replied. We shook hands awkwardly again and he turned to walk off leaving me with delightful mental images of tackling this unusual painting job.


Night arrives early and quickly on the island and without Tony to keep up the conversation there was no reason for staying up late. Besides, doing nothing can be an exhausting business and it wasn't long before I was ready for bed.

There was little or no moon that night with just the stars providing a dim, ghostly light through the window of my room as I slipped naked under the single sheet, but my mind was alive with thoughts and sleep was elusive.

I was reliving the morning when Adam and Mark had posed for my camera and the three of us had ended up with bodies entwined. And I thought ahead to the job of painting Peter the fisherman. My groin tingled at the thought. 

I was lying on my side trying to resist the temptation to masturbate when I heard the door to my room open behind me. My natural instinct was to turn round to see who it was but something stopped me doing so and I lay still, pretending to be asleep. I felt the bed move as it adjusted for another body and I felt the added warmth of that body as it moved close to my back. The sheet covering me was moved down my body and fingers, soft as feathers began tickling my shoulder and neck playing there for a while before very slowly tickling down my arm which lay along my side.

I still feigned sleep wondering which of the boys had come to fuck me …. at least I hoped he had come to fuck me. 

The hand of the mystery visitor worked its way down my arm and reached my own, his fingers stroking mine. At last I responded to his touch and, with my fingers outstretched lightly took hold of his hand, and edged myself back so that my backside touched his flesh.

He took hold of my hand and slowly moved it over my thigh and down towards my swelling penis just as I had done with Mark and Adam earlier in the day. With his hand on top of mine, he placed mine on my cock and together we rubbed and stroked me to erection.

His body moved closer to me and we lay, spooned, on our sides. I felt the cock of my night visitor slowly stiffen and rub against the cheeks of my arse while his fingers continued to play with my manhood. He took the tip of my penis between his thumb and forefinger gently squeezing, pinching and tickling. As I felt the pre-cum begin to seep out of me he used a finger to pick up every drop and then smeared it around my cock-head, paying particular attention to that gloriously sensitive fold of skin underneath.

He played with me for some time but just as I could feel myself building to the point of no return, he moved his hand away and on to my arse where once again he began stroking and tickling with the lightest of touches, like a delicate insect exploring my flesh. His finger traced up and down my crack, merely tracing the line of my cheeks before delving further into the hidden crevice.

He found my hole and  played around it's edge while I mentally urged him to press it into me but, once again he brought my pleasure to an abrupt end by pulling away. I could sense him fumbling with something behind me.

I shifted my body to lay on my front and make it easier for his hand to explore me but had to raise myself to position my swollen cock more comfortably beneath me.  As my hips rose from the bed his hand came on me again. This time I could feel it was covered with a cool liquid and I smiled to myself realising that this boy, whichever one it was, had come prepared. I suppose it wouldn't have been difficult for him to guess I would be a willing fuck partner!

He went straight for my hole and I tingled at the sensation of the cool lubricating liquid or jelly being spread around that hidden pleasure-cave, shuddering as he pushed a couple of fingers into me.

I spread my legs to allow him easier access and could feel him roll onto me so that his legs stretched between my own, his body lay flat against my back, and his stiff penis lay along the valley between my cheeks. For a moment or two we lay motionless enjoying the pleasure of such close body contact but we were both in a hurry. 

I raised my hips from the bed and, as I did so, his cock slipped into position with the tip against my hole.  I moved further back against him encouraging him to press into me, very slowly at first but then quick, hard and deep so that he was soon buried in me. I contracted my muscles as best I could to hold him inside me and prolong the joy of being filled with his hot, stiff organ but he was in no mood to wait and began pumping me hard with his prick ….long, fast strokes in and out like a piston.

He could not last for long and very soon I felt his cock expand even more before he pressed it as far as he could into me as it spewed his seed. Once again I contracted my muscles and trapped him inside me as I felt for my own cock taking myself in hand with urgent strokes, and all too soon bringing myself to climax spraying my jizz onto the bed. 

I collapsed on my stomach onto the pool of warm fluid and the two of us lay there, joined together and exhausted.

I could feel his cock gradually shrinking inside my rectum and once again experienced that final tingling sensation as he raised himself and pulled out of me and the feeling of sudden emptiness which followed.

I could sense him roll away. He gave my arse cheeks a last squeeze, swung himself off the bed and was gone, leaving me wondering who it was who'd fucked me.  Mark? Adam? Or even someone else?

But somehow it didn't seem to matter.



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