All characters and places in this story are fictional. No personal representation is intended. All activities are in the realm of fantasy.
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Awakened by the school's sonorous bell, Rupert awoke to his first full day in Africa. The chill air of the morning caused him to shiver as he made his way dressed in pyjamas and a towelling gown towards the ablutions. Stopping to relieve his bladder at one of the two urinals just inside the door of the shared bathroom he found himself next to a boy from one of the other dorms. Sleepy as he was, Rupert could hardly resist the opportunity to glance downwards and admire the lengthy black circumcised penis of his unknown companion. He in turn was not slow to watch Rupert milking his penis, pulling his velvety foreskin up and down the pale shaft.
In silence the two made their way onwards to the shower room, a simple arrangement with six old fashioned shower heads at the top of aluminium pipes, positioned around three of the tiled walls. It was only as the two undressed, hanging up their night clothes in the ante-chamber that the tall African politely introduced himself as Paul Walewale, an Upper VI student.
" You must be Rupert, the new boy from England. "
"That's me. Pleased to meet you. Is it always as cold as this in the morning?"
"Afraid so, but you'll get used to it. Come on. Jump under some hot water and you'll warm up quickly enough."
Rupert and Paul stood naked and chilled as they waited for the hot water to come through from the heating apparatus, Rupert's cock and balls steadily shrinking in the cold air. When at last wisps of steam started to billow the two young men quickly got under adjoining shower heads. Having washed his hair and rinsed the suds away Rupert reached down to retract the foreskin on his now back to normal sized penis. Since prep school he had always enjoyed the feel the drops of hot water hitting his bare helmet. Paul Walewale watched and smiled as his companion pushed back the skin of his penis, revealing the reddish glans.
Rupert and Paul enjoyed the warmth of the morning shower and said little as they soaped their bodies, so contrasting in their colours and musculature. Paul Walewale began to wash around his thick genitals. Almost hairless, apart from a bush made up of tufts of little wiry hairs his groin was spectacular with its loose scrotum and heavy balls, dominated by a pendulous penis. The shaft was as black as the rest of his body, a plum shaped crown sitting magnificently atop of it. Between the shaft skin and the crown there was just a slight hint, a few millimetres at most, of lighter colour flesh marking the line where a very low circumcision had been skilfully performed. The organ swelled and grew heavier as strong back hands soaped and rinsed it in the warm water cascading from the shower.
Rupert had kept his triangular bush closely shaved since its first appearance four years previously. He pulled back his foreskin to its furthest extent and washed around his helmet and shaft but was careful not to spend too long at it and risk an indecent erection before rinsing and pulling his skin back up over his red helmet. Paul Walewale glanced over and down more than once whilst Rupert performed this ritual of caring for his uncut cock.
Before the two students had finished their showers they were joined by Peter and Sayeed from Rupert's dorm and the silence was broken as the three long term residents engaged in their daily bantering. Feeling now very self conscious, Rupert quickly had a final rinse and made his way out to the dressing alcove, shivering once more, away from the steam of the shower room.
He was still naked when Paul Walewale appeared, dick swinging ahead of him. Quickly towelling himself dry, Rupert paused for a moment and in full view of his African companion retracted once more to pat dry his helmet and its foreskin.
"You haven't had the cut yet? We had two English boys who were cut, here last year."
"No. The doctor’s always been happy with me as it is. It's not that common back home....... Simon who's come with me has had it done. But that was because of something medical."
"There's only Walia Singh and John Etubu in this house who aren't cut. Walia's a Sikh and Etubu's a Luo. Cutting's against their traditions. Well, perhaps one day you will decide to go for it."
"I don't know about that!" replied Rupert, laughing as he quickly wrapped himself in his dressing gown. "See you in breakfast."
After a breakfast of hard boiled eggs, tea and toast Rupert went to see Mr. Wasike to get his timetable. Just as at King Edward's College, the timetable was designed to give VI formers at least one double period per day free for private study, Wednesday afternoons free for sport, music, drama or whatever activity a boy preferred, including teaching poor kids down in one of the Nairobi slums, classes on Saturday morning and more activities on Saturday afternoon, Chapel on Sunday and a film on Sunday evening. In addition to his Economics, Maths and Geography, Rupert would have two periods of Religion, Ethics and Philosophy per week, a mix and match course adapted to the needs of the school's multi-cultural population. All in all, very similar to the programme he had been following in England.
The first lesson of the day was double Economics which would take Rupert through to the mid-morning break. The class was composed of twelve boys including one other muzungu, Jerry Hammond, the son of a manager in the main branch of an English bank in Nairobi. Three Indians from the city and seven Africans, including John Etubu were among the number that made up the select group. Seated next to John Etubu and remembering what Walewale had mentioned in the showers, Rupert spent more than a few moments of the lesson looking sideways to glance at his neighbour's crotch. The well tailored uniforms, as Rupert had noticed at the airport and afterwards, were certainly designed to throw the contents of the crotch into prominence: not sufficiently tight to display a visible penis line, but nonetheless delightful and intriguing for a boy of Rupert's inclinations.
Whilst Rupert was supposed to be concentrating on the details of money supply and the role of central banks he was in fact more taken by the teacher delivering the lesson. Mr. Alocheke was a tall slim man, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. Having discovered the previous evening from his roommates that their Housemaster came from the majority Kikuyu tribe and that he had been a prize winning scholar at King George's, there was no doubt in Rupert's mind that beneath thin black cotton trousers lurked a penis of sizeable proportions if the evidence of the bulge was to be trusted. Mentally stripping his teacher naked Rupert nursed an erection as he pictured a hefty black cock with an oblique line of circumcision running around it. Had handsome Mr. Alocheke stood naked before the knife surrounded by boys from his age group or had he like Peter Obiamo, been discreetly cut in a local hospital? Rupert, already leaking milky pre-cum, preferred
to imagine the former.
By the time mid-morning break came round Rupert's cock, which had been in a state of pristine cleanliness only a couple of hours earlier, was greasy and slippery with pre-cum. Having nowhere to wash in privacy the only solution was to go to a lavatory cubicle, have a piss through his foreskin, pinching the end for a moment to balloon the foreskin and wash out the slippery secretion. Skinning full back when he had finished, Rupert dabbed the whole area dry with tissue paper.
After break Rupert settled down to another double period, Maths. Pure Maths and Statistics was a popular course to accompany Economics and he was pleased to see that not only Moses Minamara from his house was in the class but also once more, John Etubu. Maths was not a subject to permit daydreaming. The teacher, a middle aged Indian gentleman was taskmaster who kept the class working through theorems and problems from the moment he walked into the class until the moment the bell rang. There was no let up, no respite. The man could fill the board with numbers in a few minutes, wipe it clean and then call one after another of his students to come to the front and work yet another problem. Rupert was not totally disenchanted with the teaching method. Having spent his life in small private schools he was well used to the rigours and dryness of certain schoolmasters. Moreover, Mr. Sumundra was not a gay boy's pin up: somewhat overweight and dressed in a
rather ill fitting chalk stained suit he was in fact the archetype of middle aged school masters: past his best physically but superbly brilliant and methodical in his methods, the sort who had never known a failure in his classes for years.
The morning ended with a single period of Religion, Ethics and Philosophy, a relaxed discussion groups in which boys were encouraged to think and debate rather than take notes and prepare for examinations. The class was deliberately composed so as to mix boys from both the Arts and the Sciences, Upper and Lower VI. After a morning of new faces it was good to see Simon Butler once more.
At twelve thirty the bell chimed and it was time for lunch. A less formal affair than the evening meal, boys served themselves from long buffet tables laid out with warm and cold snacks, sandwiches and fruit. Finding John Etubu just ahead of him in the line Rupert made to find a place next to his classmate from the Economics and Maths classes. "Do you mind if I join you for lunch?" Without waiting for a reply Rupert took a place on the long bench next to the young Kenyan. In between mouthfuls Rupert and John discovered who was from where, what O levels they had done and what their academic strengths and weaknesses were. Rupert suggested, "We could study together and help each other. We always have study groups at St. Edward's. As they say, two minds are better than one."
"Well in fact I was having problems with the integers we had this morning. Old Sumundra has given us too much prep, as usual. Perhaps we could have a look at some of the problems this afternoon. What's your next lesson?"
"Oh, I’ve got a double free and then Geography last thing before games." Replied Rupert.
"That's perfect. I'm free until the last double and then I've got History. Look, bring your Math's books to the common room and we'll work there. Boys are not allowed in each other's rooms but we are allowed to use the house common room in free periods. If we get the problems finished I shall you round some of the grounds. VI formers are allowed to walk out during free periods if they wish to."
Ten minutes later Rupert and John were sitting shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh working their way through the prep. Rupert, quick and adept at problem solving soon had John Etubu solving the questions by himself and within the space of a single period they had between them completed the required work. “Come on, I'll show you some of our estate." John was happy to close his books and get back out into the warm afternoon air. This being Nairobi, the nights were cold but the days were usually warm to hot. Once outside of view of the main school building jackets came off and were slung over a shoulder as the boys made their way through the woodland which bordered the playing fields. "That's where we have the Junior and Senior rugger pitches and over there's the cricket field. See the pavilion? Do you play?"
Rupert admitted that rugger was fun but that he never played on a regular school team. As for cricket, he enjoyed the slow leisurely pace of the game but again was neither a proficient batsman nor bowler. "For me, sport's about the fun and the companionship. Not really into athletics and all the training."
Around some of the trees in the wood a thoughtful groundsman had constructed circular benches where one could sit and enjoy the tranquillity of nature. In an English school such spots would probably have become dens for smoking. Sitting once more shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh Rupert Malroy and John Etubu resumed the more personal conversation which they had begun at the lunch table. "Where are from? Are your family near to Nairobi? Enquired Rupert.
"No, not at all. I'm from the far west of the country. Almost on the border. My family are in Kisumu, next to Lake Victoria. Father has a fishing business: he has his own boats and a freeing plant. We sell fresh fish in four shops around the town and the frozen stuff is sold across the province. What about you?
“Daddy's in advertising, something in London. We live in Chiswick, that's in the west of London and I was sent away to school when I was eight. Never been home for more than a couple of months at a time since! Suppose it's much the same for you. How do find being in an all boys school all the time? Do you have a girlfriend back home?"
"No. It's not like that here. Boys and girls don't mix the same way you do in England. Everyone says you have too much freedom there. Here our parents are much stricter. It's like that for everyone. And it gets very complicated depending on which tribe you are from. Here at school boys look after one another, well at least some of them do, and depending on who has had the cut and who hasn't."
"What do you mean, which tribe and who's had the cut?"
"Circumcision. A boy who has been cut would never do anything intimate with one who has not been through the cut. An uncut boy is just that, a boy. It is the cut that makes him a man."
Feigning innocence but already with a mental image of what lay in John Etubu's trousers, Rupert rejoined "Well, I'm not circumcised. There's only a few lads back at school in England who have had to have that operation. What about you? Have you had this famous cut?"
"Certainly not! I am a Luo. We have never cut the boys nor the women. Not like these people. Unfortunately, these people here never miss the chance to insult us. It's hard, but there's no way I'm going off to Takiri to be cut for them. I like what I am."
"Who or what is Takiri?"
"Oh he's the school nurse. They say that during the holidays he goes back to his village and does the cutting when it's the season. Perhaps he's a bit more hygienic than the old traditional circumcisers lots of them seem to prefer.”
"Well I don't think he'll be doing anything for me! Don't you worry about having a skin. Back home circumcision is the exception rather than the rule. Most of us are cavaliers. It's best for pleasuring oneself. I love the way mine glides up and down. Do you piss through it or pull back?” Having turned the conversation Rupert began to rub at his crotch and placed his hand on John's thigh high up towards to the groin and waited for a reaction.
It was not slow in coming and John Etubu took his pale hand and placed it on the mound that rose between the African's legs. "You and I can be friends. You can feel it. Here, put your hand on my manhood. It's coming up for you."
Grow it did. Under the thin layer of cloth Rupert felt the solid tube of flesh expanding at his touch. Tracing the outline with his finger he realised that even as the erection grew the head was still covered in its protective cover of foreskin. Rupert moved to get up and then kneel on the dry earth in front of his first Kenyan lover. Reaching forward he undid the belt and zipper of the trousers and moved to lower them sufficiently to release the black penis from John's briefs. What a sight he beheld: at least seven stiff and thick inches, dark black and foreskin still covering the head. The helmet covering was riddled by two prominent veins and a network of smaller capillaries which stood out giving the thick foreskin a beautifully textured appearance. Extending beyond the crown, even at full erection John Etubu's foreskin terminated in an oblique spout, slightly wrinkled at the edges. Unable to resist for a moment, Rupert darted his tongue into
the opening of the foreskin and began to massage it from the inside. Holding the thick organ in his hand, working the shaft skin he stretched the foreskin wide, savouring the musky aroma of uncircumcised African cock.
Anxious to see what treasure lay hidden by the thick foreskin, Rupert released the organ from his lips and delicately began to retract the helmet's covering. Slowly and sensually he pulled the prepuce back revealing little by little the purple black plum. Having uncovered the whole gland he ran his finger along the deep piss slit, down the sensitive flesh string and around the base of the crown. The retracted foreskin clung closely to the top of Etubu's shaft, jet black and unwrinkled now. Taking the organ in both hands Rupert adroitly pushed the skin as far as he could down the African's shaft to reveal the tender inner flesh.
Guiding John Etubu's penis to his mouth Rupert began to suck on the dark flesh, poking his tongue around the prominent ridge formed at the junction of the glans and shaft. Hardly able to contain the fullness of the great penis in his mouth Rupert slurped nonetheless with enthusiasm and soon brought his new Kenyan friend to a shuddering climax. Salty, thick, adolescent cream flooded Rupert's mouth. Not wanting to let go of this tube of manhood, Rupert swallowed the load and it shot out spurt after spurt down his throat. He continued his tongue massage of the dick until it began to soften in his mouth and the looseness of the foreskin, now travelling up and down, made itself felt. Tightening his lips and sucking on the still large organ, Rupert was able to pull the long black foreskin into place over the head of the penis, continuing to lick at it as it began a period of repose.
At length Rupert let John Etubu's uncut cock fall from his mouth and for the first time he was able to contemplate it in its natural flaccid state. A mighty length of foreskin now dangled from the end of the black cock, almost an inch of thick, wrinkled flesh the likes of which Rupert had only ever seen in back numbers of National Geographic and on the internet when searching for something unusual and out of the ordinary. So, this was Luo cock much despised by the rest of Kenya. Rupert admired the exotic organ but was secretly pleased that his own foreskin had a least shrunk during teenage years: no longer the elephant's trunk of childhood, he possessed just a small rim of flesh beyond the tip of his helmet, a covering which slipped back of its own accord as his erections grew.
Hearing the school clock chiming the quarter hours in the distance, Rupert suggested that a leisurely walk back to the classrooms would be in order. He would save himself for later and let John Etubu have the pleasure of reciprocating some other time. Perhaps tomorrow!
Rupert's final lesson of the day was a double period of Geography, a subject he enjoyed very much. Tectonics, earthquakes and volcanoes had fascinated him since he was a child. Surely now he would get the chance to visit the great African Rift Valley which had formed a massive trough from the north to the south of the country. A field trip in East Africa would be a contrast to the Saturday day trips out to the Downs or the Hampshire coast.
The school day ended there was time for tea before settling down to afternoon prep. VI Formers had the choice of the school library or working in their rooms. Rupert still in exploring mood decided that an hour in the library, a long vaulted room, not dissimilar to an Oxbridge college library, would be worthwhile. Who knows what might be discovered between the stacks and in the alcoves of the place. Wandering nonchalantly down the central isle he gazed to the left and right looking to see who had already installed themselves for prep. In between the Physical Science stacks he noticed Peter Obiamo, his roommate, already deeply engrossed in his Physics prep, surrounded by open texts and papers. “May I join you?" Rupert enquired in hushed tones, respecting the silence of the place. "Do. Take a seat. There's plenty of space."
Rupert put down his books and papers and sat himself down opposite the handsome Luyha. With his jacket off, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie out of place the young Kenyan was engrossed in his work and hardly looked up once the English student was seated. Rupert, who did have some Economics to read up on was far too distracted by the tall slim African to concentrate on questions of money supply and found his mind wandering every other minute to the glimpse of Peter's dick which he had had the previous night. Stretching his legs apart and sliding them far under the table he all but made contact with his roommate. Was it his imagination or was he really able to feel the warmth given off by the long black limbs?
For the third time in one day Rupert nursed an erection by the simple fact of being in close physical proximity to an object of his desire. Before he had got through a couple of pages of his textbook he could feel the cold damp spread of milky pre-cum dampening his briefs and groin. Peter Obiamo shifted his legs, brushing one against the outstretched leg of his study companion. The slight touch of thinly covered flesh was enough to cause Rupert's balls to tense and release another drop of liquid into his briefs. As Rupert would quickly discover, close physical proximity among the African boys was not unusual. It did not necessarily indicate sexual desire or intent, it was just their way. Peter Obiamo let his leg rest against Rupert's leg as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Rupert showed no reaction, as least visibly, to the intimacy of the moment.
Making some effort to do his prep Rupert tried to concentrate on the text in front of him and at last settled to making a few notes to summarise the morning's lesson and prepare for the following session. However, try as he might his mind was really elsewhere. Looking up and across the table he was transfixed by the delicate cheekbones, noble nose and sharp eyes of the boy sitting opposite him. How he wanted to run his hand across the thin topping of wiry hair on Peter Obiamo's head and trace his fingers around the delicate little earlobes. The close fitting shirt which Peter wore highlighted the sturdy nipples which pressed against the cloth on either side of his broad chest. Rupert imagined himself rubbing them to hardness, nibbling on them whilst simultaneously rolling Peter's heavy black balls in the palm of his hand.
Frustrated by his fruitless attempts to study, Rupert decided to take a break. “Excuse me. Are there some toilets in this building?" he whispered across to Peter Obiamo.
"Oh yes. They are downstairs in the basement. Come on, I'll show you where they are. I need a break myself."
Rupert's heart raced as they silently made their way out of the main hall of the library and down the double stone staircase to the ground floor. Narrower steps led down on either side from the entrance hall. All was silent apart from the tap of shoes on stone. A heavy door opened onto an alcove beyond which there was a short line of four unrinals and a couple of cubicles. Rupert moved towards the end of the row, Peter going for the next but one to his right. Rupert, still half hard and feeling by now very sticky around his genitals, unzipped and pulled out his penis, its head poking out from beyond the greasy foreskin. Slowly he began to release a trickle of urine. Looking to his right he was able to see the length of black flesh which Peter had released from the confines of his uniform trousers. A thick stream of golden liquid flowed from the flaring piss slit. Peter's fingers held the tube loosely giving is roommate a full view of the cut cock
head, flaring as it did above the thick shaft. Rupert's cock began to swell as he contemplated the black monster. His flow diminished and began to feel painful as he imagined himself being ploughed Peter's tightly circumcised cock. The skin of the shaft was completely smooth, not a sign of a wrinkle and he wondered just how big it would be when stiff given that it appeared hardly less than five inches at repose.
By now pissing was all but impossible. Rupert skinned himself back to the fullest extent and slowly began to massage himself not caring if Peter Obiamo would be horrified or shocked. The Kenyan boy looked over in amazement to see Rupert's pink foreskin being whipped up and down a six inch erection. Rupert's foreskin rose and fell over his heavy glans and the boy closed his eyes to think of himself bent over in the cricket pavillon with John Etubu’s cock ramming into his mouth and Peter Obiamo's filling his bowels. Hips jerking towards the urinal, he shot out a load in a few moments, continuing to jerk his cock up and down using the full length of his foreskin until the last drops of cream had been released. At last Rupert's cock began to deflate and out flowed the pent up golden urine to mingle with the white globs of cum sliding down the smooth urinal bowl.
Rupert's right hand and cock were now smeared in a mess of pre-cum and sperm. Holding himself away from his dark trousers Rupert made his way over to the pair of washbasins. Resting his now limp organ on the cold enamel, he turned the tap to catch tepid water in the palm of his hand and clean himself.
“Very impressive" observed Obiamo with a smirk on his face. "Next time you tell me and we'll do it properly." Peter watched attentively as Rupert rinsed his shaft, cockhead and foreskin at the sink. "You know, you'd be better off without that skin. Certainly cleaner and probably make you last longer."
"Oh no. I'll last longer next time. What do you suggest? We see each other after evening prep?"
Cleaned up and ready to go, the two made their way back to the main library hall. Rupert, though physically relieved for the time being at least, paid scant attention to his textbooks and spent the next half hour idly day dreaming about pleasures to come. When at last the bell chimed six o'clock it was with a light heart and spring in his step that Rupert returned to the dormitory anxious to know what the end of the day might bring.
That evening at the end of prep, Moses and Sayeed took themselves off to the common room leaving Rupert and Peter Obiamo to finish off their work. In only a few minutes they were done and Peter was anxious to follow on from where they had left off that afternoon in the basement of the library. "You know, you really should consider the cut. It makes an enormous difference to the business of pleasuring oneself. Come over here. I'll show you."
Rupert got up and walked round to Peter's side of the table and stood beside the seated Kenyan boy who, without a word proceeded to unbuckle Rupert’s belt, undo his trousers and slip down the white briefs. Rupert's penis hung a respectably thick four inches but the moment that Peter's black fingers began to work on it swelled to a handsome six inches and the foreskin slipped back of its own accord as the glans forced its way out from the sheath of skin. Peter drew the foreskin up and down and few times. "You don't need this. Let's show you another way.”
Peter yanked the foreskin down as far as it would go, pulling it tightly down to the base of Rupert's shaft exposing a great length of tender pink skin, stretched taught from the glans down to Rupert's pubis. His strong fingers held the prepuce firmly back whilst Rupert's shaft throbbed in the cool evening air. "Spit on your palm. Wrap your hand around your cock and pump."
Rupert began the action. His fist clenched around his shaft he jacked away like an old pro. Never having tried this technique before he was amazed at the way the joints of his fingers stimulated the edge of his helmet on the up stroke and how they pulled at his ridge on the down. The comparatively rough skin of his fingers rubbed provocatively at the tender flesh of his stripped back cock, whilst all the while Peter Obiamo kept the foreskin stretched back and firmly anchored close to Rupert's tightening balls. "You've got the idea? Hold off for a moment."
Peter Obiamo got up, lowered his trousers and briefs presenting his long thick black cock to Rupert who gazed in delight at the massive flaring mushroom head. "Come on, give a stroke." Rupert looked at the tightly cut penis admiring the dark black line which ran around the shaft a good inch back from the crown. So this was a Kenyan hospital circumcision. No ragged edges, no uneven join of layers of skin, just a neat, slightly raised, circle of scar tissue separating the black shaft skin from the slightly lighter tender flesh left by the surgeon.
Rupert’s hand could just about wrap itself around the African snake but once he had it in his grip and started to drag his fist up and down it, the serpent began to rise. Thickening from the pubis and onwards and upwards, it swelled until Rupert had in his hand a rock hard eight inches of thick Kenyan cock. Peter moved around to stand behind Rupert. Spitting on to his fingers he massaged saliva into the cleft of Rupert's buttocks and fingered at the moist ass bud. “Hold still and bend forwards muzungu." Peter's voice had a hint of menace in it as he edged Rupert towards their bunk beds. "Hold on to the top rail." Rupert spread his legs while Peter rubbed more saliva into the entrance to the boy’s anal opening. As if by flash of lightening or an electric bolt Rupert's arse was suddenly set ablaze. The great black cockhead pushed into him and almost ripped him apart. Rupert was no stranger to the delights of teenage shafting but never had
he experienced the pulling apart of his chute is such a forceful manner.
Peter Obiamo paused for a moment to let Rupert accustom himself to the girth of his cock before pushing onwards and inwards until his ball sac was crushed up against the trembling white buttocks. Rupert by this moment was on the verge of tears, though he did not know if they were for pain or pleasure. Holding himself in position, Peter reached down and caught hold of Rupert's still hard cock, and as he had done just a few minutes previously, yanked the tender foreskin down to the pubis, holding it tightly in place and forcing Rupert's erection into the highest angle possible.
Whispering into Rupert’s ear, his warm cheek brushing against Rupert’s face, Peter instructed his new toy boy to wank with his fist wrapped around his cock. "Let's see who will come first now."
Peter showed no mercy or tenderness as he ploughed away at Rupert's chute. The thick long cock was nothing but a human pile driver, ramming itself in and out of Rupert's aching bowels. Rupert himself tried to concentrate on the new sensations of fisting his tender cock and experiencing the unusual sensations of his bare hand rubbing not only against his shaft and helmet but especially that tender string of flesh which bound the two together. At one point he was almost fearful of tearing the delicate string on the underside of his cockhead and almost automatically he let his grasp weaken as is approached taught band of flesh.
The hold which Peter Obiamo had on the base of his cock only served to enhance the sensations he was feeling. Almost by accident, a reaction to the pains and pleasures he was feeling from behind, a sudden jab of pain followed by the long luxurious feeling as the black cock pulled out a while, Rupert clenched his thumb as he pulled towards his helmet. The sudden tightening of pressure on the rim of his cockhead, as his thumb pushed over it brought him to a level of pleasure. Experimenting now with looser and tighter, faster and slower strokes of his fist, banging his hand down against Peter’s at the base of his cock Rupert gradually accustomed himself to the invasion which was taking place in his chute.
Having come so forcefully in the presence of Peter during afternoon prep it was a miracle of nature that the muscles of his groin began to tremble and tighten so forcefully, announcing a second eruption in the space of a day. Erupt he did. With Peter Obiamo ramming him from behind, yet at the same time keeping such a tight hold on his cock, Rupert began to shoot out his thick stream of boy cream on the African’s bed cover. As always Rupert continued to wank himself as the stream spat out only now the sensations of wanking tender inner cock skin with bare hands sent waves of electricity through him. His cock helmet felt as if it would set on fire and his palm grazed the now super-sensitive tissue. Crying out in a mixture of pain, agony, relief and delirium Rupert begged Peter to come inside him and bring the agony and ecstasy to an end. Letting his tenderised cock drop, Rupert reached backwards to clench at Peter's solid black buttocks. Going with the
rhythm of Peter's thrusting he worked his fingers on to the cleft and began to dig at the delicate flesh with his finger tips.
With a few lunging strokes Peter ploughed deeply into Rupert's chute and the stimulation to his own backside produced what both so wanted. Waves of hot African man juice began to flood into Rupert's bowels whilst Peter lowered his head to Rupert's neck, kissing him with a tenderness which contrasted dramatically with the violence of his continued thrusting. At long last the tide began to ebb and the length of solid flesh began to soften. Rupert, whose every nerve was now alive felt his inner muscles relaxing and tightening themselves around the dimishing rod within him.
By now only half hard and shrinking towards a still commendable five inches Peter Obiamo pulled himself out of Rupert and clasped the exhausted English boy in his arms. "You asked for that my friend. Now you know what to expect in future. Come. We must clean up and be ready for Moses and Sayeed."
Moments later the door opened and the roommates entered. Peter and Rupert excused themselves for a visit to the bathroom, where cleaning up was definitely in order. One circumcised penis to be washed clean of a mixture of ass juices and cum and one very tender uncircumcised organ to be rinsed and cooled after its sticky ordeal of fist wanking.
Ten minutes later, two Africans, one Indian and a very sore English boy were all in bed each lost in his own thoughts though two of them with very similar dreams of what the next encounter might bring.
Reactions appreciated. Jeremy