Standard disclaimers apply...
This story is for my makker Zafar... ek liefde jou, makker en baie dankie!
JOBURG TO SYDNEY
John Matthews
Gary and I had been buddies forever. Well, it seemed that way. We were at boarding school together, at university together and had always shared accommodation. That was fun. Though we were both gay, we rarely got it together. He was very separatist in some ways, (gay gym, gay restaurants etc) but I had to work in a world of business where it did not pay to be too overt. The Republic is OK with gays, and even one of our High Court judges was out... but prejudice does still rear its ugly head.
I had inherited my dad's business a couple of years before, and I felt it was important to expand our operations to Sydney, as mineral exploration was on a bit of a downturn in my native South Africa, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain a decent profit. However, our company was well respected, and internationally known, and a couple of contracts I had tendered for in Australia had come our way. They were quite lucrative and justified a move to Australia.
Now Gary was a photographer; and a good one at that. However his client base was Joberg and that was where his business was. It was a lousy business, though, as he had no idea of how to manage money. Through intermediaries I was occasionally able to throw some decent contracts his way, but he never knew this. His work was always faultless, and the clients were always happy, and he always got a fat cheque, which he always managed to spend. He was a useless businessman. When I told him I was moving to Australia, he threw the biggest tantrum I have ever seen him throw, and he could make with some doozies.
"Waddaya mean you're off to Australia? You didn't ask me! You didn't even mention it to me!"
"I'm mentioning it now."
"Sit jou kop in die koei se kont en wag tot die bul jou kom holnaai! Jy...jy..jy...hetero!" (This last word in a screech!)
" Gary, are you cross at me?"
I couldn't help quietly chuckle and try to hide a smile. Gary had just told me to put my head up a cow's cunt and wait until a bull fucked my arse. He also accused me of being straight - his absolutely worst insult! Yup, he was cross.
My best friend's tears left me quite unmoved, as he was a magnificent drama queen, and I thought I would let him have his drama, and then give him the good news.
"Jannie (pronounced YAHnee - means Johnny), we have lived together for twenty years, and now just like that [he flicked his fingers in a most fetchingly dramatic way] it's over..."
"Hmmmmm" I said in a musing kind of way.
"Hmmmmmmmmm...fucking hmmmmmmm!" A little scream.
I had never seen a person gnash their teeth before, but I rather suspect I came rather close to it that day.
"Gaan kak in die mielies! Gaan trek draad!"
I was really enjoying myself. His Afrikaans was really a happening thing today. Like us all he was fluent, but his fluency was exceeding itself. He had just told me to go shit in the cornfields and go pull myself. This was promising to be the stuff that curtain calls are made of. I wish I had had my video set up.
"Oh Christ, what will I do without you." He started to quietly weep.
I sat back in my armchair, and watched him for a few moments, and then he gave a great sob, looked up, and said:
"What the fuck have you got planned, my little moffie?"
Two things I noticed. One, he had already planned a revenge - I could tell that from the tone of his voice, and two, I was back in his good books, or at least, not so greatly out of favour as a few moments beforehand, as he called me moffie - poofter.
Now the trouble with living with someone for such a long time is they get to know you. He just knew I wouldn't drop something like this on him, unless he was somehow included.
"Well," I drawled...trying to keep the suspense happening.....
"C'mon, get a wriggle on...."
"Well, I though about hiring a good photographer to take with me, as there aren't any in Australia I know who are as good and versatile as you..."
A yell from his chair indicated that this was not received badly.
"Jy's laer as slang kak se skadu!"
Even that was a new one for me. It appeared that I was lower than a snake's shit's shadow. Oh well.
He leaped from his chair, faster than the speed of light, landed on my lap and immediately began covering my rather grubby face ( I had been on site) with very wet kisses. I tried to disengage him, but he had the advantage. He forced his lips onto mine and proceeded to rape them with his tongue. I could taste beer and I thought he may have been a little drunk.
"Look," I managed to squeeze out, "Why don't you get me a Castle and we'll drink to our forthcoming move."
"Alright," he said slyly. I knew... I just knew, he wasn't going to let me get away that easily with the angst I had just put him through. He trundled off to the kitchen and brought in a couple of icy cold Castles. We popped the tops and toasted our trip.
I downed a few cans in rapid succession as I had really worked up a thirst, and chatted with Gary idly about the move we would make in about four weeks. He would close his business, and move onto my payroll. That was not a problem, as the business was lousy anyway. And though I didn't officially know that, he knew that I knew.
I guess I was more tired than I thought, because I fell into a really deep sleep on my comfortable armchair. I woke with a start some moments [?] later unable to move. That bastard had tied me into my chair and had my shirt open and my trousers off.
"Don't...don't you dare...."
I couldn't help giggling a little in anticipation of the torture to come. Gary was standing over me with a feather he had obviously plucked from the feather duster.
"Moving to Sydney...are YOU," he muttered at me, emphasising the you.
This was my worst nightmare. I hated being tickled, because it got me really horny, but it also made me giggle a lot, remain horny and not be able to blow. I rather suspected I was in for a rather long session, and I just knew he wasn't going to let up on me.
He lightly dusted the feather over my cock. I started to squirm, and tried to control my giggling. I bit my lip to help me control myself to no avail. I popped a boner. Gary lightly grabbed it, examined it in detail and then let go. It plopped onto my stomach across my pubic patch. Now I quite like my thatch, and keep it neatly trimmed. I don't like being shaved much, as I think the blondness of my hairs set off my dick quite nicely. Also I don't like the prickly feeling a couple of days later. However, Gary had other ideas. He liked the smooth look, and kept himself shaved. I must admit, it did look good on him, kind of boyish. He disappeared for a moment into the bathroom, and I had a horrible premonition of what was to come. I was right. A just of steaming water, some towels a can of shaving cream, and a couple of new Gilettes.
"Gary, so help me, if you do this to me I'll sack you before you start!"
"Moving to Sydney...are you? Make me go through all that anguish, would you?"
He used the feather on my dick again. I tried to stifle a giggle, but didn't succeed. My flagging boner popped up for a second look.
"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" Gary had put a steaming hot towel on my pubes. Gently he massaged the heat into me. Making sure he didn't burn my cock. "Jy is 'n poes." I don't normally swear, but this torture, or rather, the anticipation of the torture to come, made me quite cheerfully call him a cunt.
"Now, now...language, darling, language!"
Though we did not normally have sex together, and had our own separate boyfriends, occasionally we would have a bonk, if we were feeling particularly horny. I made a mental note that I would fuck him so hard later his eyes would pop out.
That gave me a certain sense of satisfaction. The steaming towel was removed from my lovely little pubic patch and the shaving cream was massaged in. My old fellah had started to sag again, but a judicious swipe with the feather, over my dick and a tickle on my balls had him raring to go again. It also evinced yet another giggle from me. Fuck, I hate being tickled. It is so undignified.
Gary has a habit of sticking the tip of his tongue out the side of his mouth when he is concentrating. It's kinda cute, but I snapped at him.
"Put your tongue back in...you look like a sleepy kitten."
He did put his tongue in, but not where I expected. He just lightly [and ticklingly] rolled it round my arse and over my nuts. I squirmed and giggled again, and then he stuck his tongue into my foreskin.
"Hmmmmmmm...tasty." He leered a rather nasty leer at me. He pulled the new razor out of its packet, and in a couple of strokes had me shaved bare. I naturally have a smooth arse and balls, so they did not need any work. He rubbed some aftershave [for sensitive skin] on my freshly bare pubes and I winced.
"Sensitive skin, my arse," I thought..."that stuff stings." The sting had made Fred go all floppy again, but the feather was but the work of a moment to make him sit up and take notice again.
Gary then really started on me. He feathered my chest; he feathered my nipples; he feathered my ribs, he feathered my stomach...he even feathered my face. This of course was interspersed every time he changed sites with feathering my dick or balls...I was laughing uncontrollably and squirming fit to bust.
I guess the thing that pissed me off the most, was through the whole process, Gary didn't even look like cracking a fat. He was wearing old footy shorts, and no top, and obviously had no knickers on underneath. I could clearly see the outline of his cock flopping around in its flaccid state. He wasn't torturing me for a turn-on, but simply for revenge. The bastard! That lovely arse of his was really going to get a GOOD workout later.
Now I have a rather long foreskin, and even when erect, my cock stays in its little sleeping bag. However, I was so horny, the head was pushing through and making itself noticed.
"My, my...we are a little frisky, aren't we? remarked my best pal and evil torturer.
"Yes we are," I nearly snarled at him. I thought better of it, and in my sweetest and most ingratiating voiced wheedled... "OK, you've had your revenge, please, please stop now."
"Nope!" Well, I guess that was the short answer. I had sometimes given the same answer in business negotiations.
He went at me again with that bloody feather, but all my wriggling had loosened the bonds and I felt an arm get free. The other arm also freed itself. [Gary never did join the boy scouts and hence was no good at knots..."No, no Jannie... All those lovely boys in little shorts would drive me spare! It's bad enough playing rugby at school!"]
I waited a moment or two and spotted my chance. With a fast heave-ho, I was out of the chair, and on top of my erstwhile torturer.
His surprise was genuine, and within a trice I had him on his stomach on the floor and his shorts ripped off. My cock was so hard and I was so horny from the tickling, I lined up his arse, and without any preliminaries or lube went straight in. I fact, I thought I went in a little too easily, especially as there was no howl of outrage, but just a quiet little "OOOOOOOO" from my torturer. I then realise the bastard had already greased himself up... He had anticipated me. However, I was too horny to think too much about that so I started long dicking him straight away. I must admit, it seemed as if I was able to get closer into him with my shaved pubes, and it felt really nice to have flesh against flesh, rather than a cushion of hair. I reached under him to feel his cock, and was rewarded with a handful of stiff flesh. He really wanted this as much as I did. As I plunged into him, and withdrew, and plunged in again, I realised how much I really loved my makker, my pal, and wondered why we didn't make love more often. I slowed down my pace considerably, and though keeping my hips moving rhythmically I lay forward on his back; my act of lust turned into an act of love, and I whispered into his ear..."Gary, I really love you."
I erupted into him. It felt like gallons and never ending. But somehow it felt a different from the other times. This time I think I had branded him, and made him mine.
I had hugged him often, and had told him I loved him, which I did, but this time it seemed to be a bit different. I truly loved him... he was my best friend,,,we shared (occasionally) sexually and enjoyed it. There had never been a commitment between us sexually... just friendship. I rather thought I had crossed over somewhere, something... this sex was a beginning.
However I was not about to spoil our friendship with great protestations of love. I wanted the fuck and so did he. We would still be friends living together, but I now felt the first twinges of falling in love with my best friend.
To be continued...
Please feel free to contact me at sagi50@hotmail.com