This is fiction and for adults. Don't read it if it is illegal to read it where you live. Please donate generously to Nifty to keep the stories coming.
Becoming a Philosopher 20
Svens' flight had been delayed by an hour, so Martin got a toasted sandwich. Sven was going to stay with us in our apartment for three months while he worked through the final draft of his PhD with his professor. He had worked solidly and felt that he was at the end stages. Martin and I discussed how we would manage things in the apartment. I told him that I wanted to organise a sailing weekend at Langebaan and that we could camp for a night or two. Martin was keen as he had never sailed before. The last time I had sailed was in Sweden on Lake Vänern with Sven when we rescued Nicolas.
Sven was exhausted and hadn't slept much on the plane. I was glad to see him again and he embraced Martin and me. He was looking good and had put on some weight. His blond hair was longer, and I was glad to have my Swedish boy with me again. He had one suitcase and had brought us a bottle of vodka as a gift, his gran had sent me a copy of a French author's book "A History of Violence"; Eduard Louis was the talk of Europe and she knew I would enjoy it.
Sven moved into the room that looked towards Stellenbosch. It was a hot day and stripped down to his undies. It was good to see his body again. He was tall and thin and not too muscular. My mind went back to the tragic time when he was very depressed and had taken an overdose of his prescription meds. I remembered washing him in the shower and getting him to the campus clinic. But that was a while back and he was in good shape and that made me happy. He slept for two hours after his shower, and I woke him up so that we could go down to our favourite pizza joint near the university. Martin commented on Sven's beautiful eyes, and he also liked his little arse. I found that funny as he had never made comments about guys before.
We turned in early, Sven wanted to be fresh when he met his professor. He had a full printout of his thesis, and I asked him if I could scan through it sometime. I was just dosing off when my phone rang. I was a little confused, it was Carlo's father, and he wanted to share some good news. There was an insurance payout on Carlo's life and he wanted me to have 30,000 euro as a gift. I told him that I couldn't take it.
"Thomas you're our son. We loved your visit, and we feel that you are part of our family. Please, please accept the gift. All I ask is that you keep in touch."
I was overwhelmed and thanked him for his generosity. I was so excited and woke Martin up. He got a fright and I had to calm him down. I told him about the gift and hugged him. He congratulated me and then turned over and went back to sleep. I lay thinking about Carlo and his family and my time in Verona, and I understood where Carlo got his generous spirit from. It was weird to think that Carlo was murdered in the same room that we were sleeping in.
Sven's professor welcomed him and was pleased to receive the hard copy of his draft. Sven told me that he was a little lazy, and he immediately got him to tutor a group. I told him that he needed to manage his professor and that he set some deadlines for feedback. He agreed and we went for lunch at the Kaplan Centre.
I told him about our friends Ariel and David who had visited from Israel. I told him that Ariel was going to do a course in Peace Studies and that I had first met him on a Scout jamboree. Sven told me about Nicolas and that he had met a Muslim guy from Syria at university and that he hoped that he would settle down. I laughed and said that that could be a complicated relationship. I told him that David was an ultra-Orthodox Jew and had left his Yeshiva and that his family and community had cut him off. Sven told me that Nicolas' family had not contacted him and that they didn't take his calls.
I leaned across the table and kissed my Swedish boy and told him how lucky I was. I told him that I felt a little guilty as I wasn't so close to Carlo. I was quite hard on him with the Wynand affair and told him what I thought. Marisa walked in at that moment, and I introduced her to Sven. Her music studies were going well and her relationship with the coffee shop owner was going well. Sven hugged her and told her how sorry he was about the situation with Wynand. My Swedish boy was a sensitive type and had tears in his eyes.
That afternoon I took Sven to Kirstenbosch Gardens, where we walked in the warm afternoon sun, and he told me how happy he was to be back in Africa. We found a spot under a huge oak tree where we lay on our backs and continued our conversations. Sven was easy to speak to and we had a lot in common. I told him how much I cared for Martin and that our relationship was going well, but he was a quiet person and didn't talk that much.
The next day Sven met his professor who had started working on his dissertation. He liked his introduction but wanted him to add a paragraph or two to personalise the dissertation and say what steered him towards the topic. He promised to discuss his literature review the next week. Sven had a lot of reading to do on the philosophy of sex. One of the professors had developed a course, which she said would generate a lot of interest. Sven was familiar with philosophical counselling but hadn't done any reading in this area before, and Sven wondered whether the course dealt with homosexuality.
Martin and I told Sven about our plans to go sailing in Langebaan. Sven was excited and said that he would love to put the skills he had gained into practice. I told them that we would stay in the best hotel and that I would cover the costs. Later that evening Martin and I were lying in bed reading, and I asked Martin if he was happy to share a room with Sven, or whether we should get two rooms. He put his book down on the side table and turned to me and said he was very happy to share.
"I like Sven and he's very attractive. I also like his gentle and considerate approach; and besides isn't he the guy with one testicle?"
"Shut up Martin, don't be naughty. You'll see that he's fine."
Martin kissed me and ran his hands over my chest. I put out the light and moved my hand and started wanking his hard dick.
A week later we packed our luggage into my car and made our way up the West Coast to our luxury hotel. I made sure that I had packed my vodka gift and my favourite Speedo. Sven had fallen asleep in the back seat and Martin had his hand on my leg and kept sliding his hand up to my penis while I drove. I was hard and told him to stop as I didn't want to have an accident. He laughed, stuck his hand in his shorts, and played with himself, and it was clear that Martin had a fun weekend in mind.
The hotel overlooked the tranquil Langebaan Lagoon and the sunset from our window was spectacular. We didn't unpack and went downstairs to enjoy a seafood buffet dinner. The food was incredible, and the award-winning chef took pride in her work. She had recommended a West Coast wine to accompany our dinner and had provided some background to the dishes on the table. The setting was magical, and Martin was relaxed and in a talkative mood. Sven felt a sense of accomplishment, as his professor was very happy with his entire dissertation. He had to make some minor changes. He had to change the sequence of things and get a language edit before submitting. I recommended the Head of English at one of the schools near the university. He was a scoutmaster and had worked on several dissertations previously.
We returned to our huge room. It had two king-sized double beds and a small lounge area. We unpacked while Sven took a shower and Martin kept grabbing my arse. We jumped into the shower as soon as Sven came out wrapped in a towel. Martin was all over me and his dick kept poking me as he hugged me. I kept him off and we washed each other as we plotted to ambush Sven. We dried each other off, and both of us were sporting raging boners.
Sven was lying in his bed with a book in his hands when we split up and launched onto the bed from either side. He dropped his book and raised his arms defending himself. I grabbed him from behind and held him while Martin went down and sucked his dick. Sven laughed and pretended to fight me. I was hard and somehow found myself lying under him with my dick pressed again his back. Sven was ticklish and laughed a lot. Martin stopped sucking Sven and came up and gave him a deep kiss. I nibbled Martin's ear and eventually, we arranged ourselves into a daisy chain with Martin still sucking Sven's dick. Sven stopped us and said he wanted to taste Martin and slowly began to suck his dick. Martin squirmed and almost came. I was behind Sven's arse playing with his hole with my tongue. We moved into a daisy chain again and Martin blasted off in Sven's mouth setting off a chain reaction. That night we shared a bed with Sven sandwiched between Martin and me.
The next day we were up early and washed each other off in the shower. The premium shower soap made foam which seemed to increase the sensuality of the moment and Sven enjoyed my cum that morning. We dried ourselves off and applied sunscreen to our naked bodies, another sensual moment with me getting hard all over again. Martin sucked me off just before we went down for breakfast.
It was a beautiful day, and we made our way down the yacht basin where we picked up a classic Flying Dutchman for hire. I rigged it up with the help of the owner and we launched her into the lagoon. Sven wanted to show me what he remembered from our time in Sweden and took the tiller, while I explained the basic principles of sailing to Martin. It was fantastic being out on the water with my friends and the sun beat down on us as we picked up speed. A seagull hovered above us, probably looking for food, and I wondered what he thought of these three guys in their red Speedos.
Sven was doing well, and Martin watched him carefully. When we got to where it was quiet I asked Sven to let the rope go and we drifted in the sun. I stood up and rocked the boat a bit and asked Martin to take the tiller and take us out towards the lagoon opening. The water became choppier as we got closer to the ocean, and I explained how to bring the boat about again. He did well and Sven and I moved across to counter the weight. I opened some cans of beer, and this kept us cool in the morning sun. There was a great sense of freedom as the boat skimmed the water and the wind whistled in the sails. I had an erection and Martin commented that he couldn't take my dick anywhere. He looked so good in his Speedo with his life vest flapping in the wind. I took the tiller and sailed us back to the hotel for lunch.
We didn't have the energy to sail that afternoon and lounged around the pool drinking beer. Martin laughed about our Speedos and told us a story about a geography field trip he was on in Grade 10 in the Golden Gate National Park:
"We were staying at the youth hostel a kilometre from the main camp. The hostel was in a wooded valley and surrounded by sandstone cliff faces. It was an incredible setting. We learnt how to abseil down one cliff one morning and had great fun. Graham and Ella were rangers in the park and made sure that we followed all the safety procedures they had taught us. After lunch, we had a geology lesson and were shown some uplifted strata, and later we went to a small farm dam where we were given a water safety briefing and provided with life jackets. We used the two-man canoes and had a lot of fun. Towards the end of the afternoon, we were tipping each other over, using the oars to splash each other and mucking about. Graham was on a paddle ski wearing a green Speedo monitoring the action. He had dark brown eyes and had developed muscle in the line of duty. He was in is late twenties and had a beautifully tanned body, and his Speedo showed of his junk. If I stared any longer, I am sure I would have got hard.
After supper I walked away from the hostel area and followed a path through the thick Ouhoud (Old Wood) bushes. I had heard the owl calls the previous night, and equipped with my birding binoculars I went on a search for the Spotted Eagle Owls nesting in the area. Just under a kilometre away, the path had a diversion to the right, which I followed.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw the wooden house. It had an outdoor shower, and Graham was showering. I focused my binoculars and saw him soaping his body. His dick was erect as he spread the soap over his chest and shoulders.
Facing away from the wall, his eyes closed, his tanned skin dripping with water from the shower he was pumping his hard dick, which was what I was focussed on. It was huge compared it mine, and his hand glided skilfully up and down. My heart was beating fast, and my dick was hard in my shorts. Graham's other hand massaged his wet chest, and his fingers teased his nipples. He moved his hand behind his arse and played with his hole. His dark brown hair, black in the dimmer light of dusk, was dripping. I watched intently as he shot ropes of cum onto the ground. He stayed there for a while with his eyes closed and continued to wank.
I moved away from the house into the thicker bush and released my hard dick which was oozing precum and copied Graham's technique which I had just admired. I came in no time and brought my, sticky hand to my mouth and licked off the cum wishing it was Graham's.
Around about the same time the next night, I followed the route through the bushes to Graham's house hoping for another treat. His jeep wasn't there, but his green Speedo was on the line. I walked away from the house into thick bush and pulled out my hard dick. I spat on my hand and slowly glided my hand up and down thinking of Graham in his green Speedo. My balls pulled into my body, and I shot strings of cum, just missing my binoculars lying on the ground.
The smell of Ouhoud bush will always remind me of Ranger Graham."
You don't have to guess what we got up to in our room later that afternoon.