At first I could not quite comprehend where I had found myself. In an instant, I felt the anvil blows of my heart as I realised that I had awoken in in Togo, West Africa. During the 7 hour flight I had indulged in one major drinking session from London, downing countless vodka & cokes as a remedy for my fear of flying. This had worked admirably but left me feeling somewhat disorientated.
My Togolese friend, Modou had retired here from London after a long and lucrative career as a lawyer. Although he was aged 50, he had the slim definition of an athlete without having ever set foot in a Gym.
I thought about my arrival and stepping out of the airport to be confronted by chaos and distraction. A sea of airport staff and cab drivers jostling for prime position. One or two other europeans struggled though the mayhem. When I proceeded down the steps, I was immediately accosted by an aggressive porter. His white shirt was semi opaque with sweat revealing a powerful muscle structure. His gruff voice and man scent started to give me a hard on in the stifling heat of the afternoon. I smiled sweetly at him as he moodily placed my luggage in the taxi. He returned a surprised smile when I handed him a generous gratuity. "Where are you from?" he demanded, with his staccato accent. "England". I mustered my warmest smile taking a lingering look into his ink black eyes. His smile broadened when I said "Thanks for your help, it is nice to be looked after by such a strong young man" He beamed at me "Enjoy your stay in Togo." "Thank you". He glanced back as my taxi drove into the dusty thoroughfare, the breeze from the window drying my sweat laden face. I gave the driver the address to Modou's house as we passed weathered shops and dwellings buzzing with shoppers and tradesmen. Beyond the dusty red earth, emerald vegetation ascended towards the forested hills, sharply delineated against azure sky. Within 20 minutes we had reached the outskirts of the rather opulent estate where my friend resided.
I had slept well in Modou's rather palatial house. He prepared some mango juice, soup & bread as I lounged on his expansive veranda, shaded from the searing intensity of the late afternoon sun. My friend joined me for lunch and we passed our eyes over wavering palm trees to where knotted vines climbed the whitewashed compound wall. His dark youthful looking face betrayed by the occasional mischievous expression. A slim elegant hand picked at food, extending from his lavishly embroidered Kaftan.
After much discussion about London, he leaned forward and with a hushed conspiratorial tone said "There is someone who wants to meet you, but I have told him no." "Who is this?, Is he a friend?" "No he is a baaaad boy." The unusual intonation in his voice made me grin. "Why is he bad?, surely not that bad?" Modou leaned forward and virtually whispered. "He has f**ked all the Europeans in the area. Even the old missionary from the next village. All the old queens love him." "Well that is an impressive track record and I suppose money changes hands?" "No, he likes whites, sometimes they give him beautiful clothes." It was a subtle difference but did something to appease my ethical objections to such a meeting. Having read about the colonial subjugation of Africa, I was unhappy about exploiting the obvious economic disparities so blatantly. "So he prefers white guys then?" My friend gave a wry smile "He is addicted". "So what will he do with a nice young guy like me after all those doting old men?" My friend laughed "He will rape you!" He was joking, but I laughed nervously.
I went to my cool room and rested my head on the luxuriant pillow. The drone of the air conditioning lulled me to sleep beneath the playful shadows of dusk.
I awoke to the slam of the steel compound gate and looked out the window, focussing on the diffused lights that dusted the palm leaves with gold. A tall slender figure ambled to the front door, lost in shadow. I heard the faint ring of the buzzer. There was muted laughter and then a knock at the bedroom door. "Graham, Ishmahl is here, he wants to meet you". Modou sounded excited. "OK, I will be there shortly". I took a moment to calm myself then pulled on jeans and a tea shirt.
I stepped into the room where my sleepy eyes came to rest on a tall slender guy in his early twenties, dressed traditionally in his kaftan and hat. His skin was dark as mahogany. With one lithe movement he stepped up to me and extended a large hand and forearm. I smiled at his near crushing handshake and enormous grin, thick lips framing his porcelain teeth and caddish eyes staring intently into mine. He looked desperately handsome in a very roguish way. His uneven stubble enhanced his very uncontrived masculinity. "How are you, I am Ishmahl." His deep resonant voice made me feel dizzy and still his gaze did not lift from mine. I looked away and then at my friend. "I am fine thank you, I'm Graham." I felt my face flush and withdrew my outstretched hand. As I sat on the couch, his hand touched my back possessively and he adjusted his robes as he sat beside me, placing a cushion on his lap to conceal his excitement.
Modou offered tea, and as Ismahl looked away, my eyes took in his god-like form. His head was adorned with a small circular hat and black woollen hair wandered down the nape of neck. Clumped chest hair rose just beyond the neckline of his his robe. His forearms varnished by a sheen of sweat with tight knotted muscles. He smelt earthy, his natural odours unmasked by perfume. I savoured it like wine as my hard on grew in my jeans. He said little as he drank his tea. My friend teased him. "So what are you going to do to my only daughter" He said and we all laughed. "Modou tells me you are a bad boy." I said, smiling to soften my criticism. "No", he boomed, "I am never bad." At that, he laughed and I suspected that quite the opposite was true.
I excused my self and headed for the shower. Already, the humidity had made me perspire and I was glad to feel the jets of water cooling my milky skin. My dick was still semi erect as I soaped up my body.
There was a knock and the shower room door and it partially opened. I noticed Ishmahl's eyes peering through the gap so I covered myself pulled to door shut. "A true gentleman would never do that." I said, trying not to laugh. "Let me come in, I want to tell you something." I ignored him till suddenly he burst in, completely naked and stood beside me under the cascading water, saying nothing.
He stood at just over six feet tall. From his uneven hair the water traced down over his miscreant smile. It followed the the curve of his narrow shoulders and tightly cut chest, lingering there in the scattered clumps of hair. The rivulets then followed over the undulating abdominal muscles, tapering to compact hips where it glistened in his pubes from where his large circumcised dick pointed at its intended victim. It was a shade away from pure black and must have measured well over over 8 inches, overhanging his tightly slung balls. It curved to the right like a ripe plantain, so hard that it barely wavered as he moved closer. His athletic legs slightly parted as he pushed the thing against me. I recoiled a little and turned away but felt his hand grab my waist, running over the contour of my neatly curving butt. "what do you want?" I murmured but already I felt the whole of his body pressing against my back pushing his hips and rubbing his cock as it pressed upwards along the groove of my butt. Still I could smell the elixir of his earthy perspiration. His heavy breaths were in my ear as he nibbled my ear lobe then whispered "Wash me." I turned and took the soap from the shelf. "Back first." he said turning and I firmly lathered his exquisitely smooth skin, massaging his shoulder blades and neck. I chatted as my hands glided up and down his back to the top of his pert unyielding butt "So I am I your first today huh?" I asked with slightly accusatory overtones. He paused and said. "Of course you are baby." he answered in mock sincerity. He turned and my hands soaped over the course hairs of his chest, and down the solid curve of his biceps and back down his hairy washboard stomach. "So why should I submit myself to the attentions of such a gigolo?" I asked as I washed the scent of previous lovemaking from his skin. He smiled looking directly into my eyes. Already my cock and arse were aching with desire. I could almost imagine the ecstacy of his manhood entering my body. "I know what you need, you need a man. you think I don't know." he stated. "Clean the thing too." I knelt down and ran my fingers across his pubes, squeezing the base of his cock that reared up slightly with each caress. Then around his balls and behind them making him shiver. As I cleaned his firm legs my head drew close to his cock. The hole at the end was lighter and the helmet and had the feel of hot soapstone as I brushed past with teasing lips. I turned off the shower and we dried each other, him being somewhat rough with the towel. He pushed the door and yanked my hand into the adjacent bedroom closing and locking the door behind him saying. "Now you cannot escape" I stretched out on the bed lying on my side facing him and he quickly got beside me. His powerful arm pushed me onto my back. Half lying on top of me he started pushing apart my legs with his knees. He kissed without tongues and squeezed my nipples hard, his burning cock now rubbing against my inner thighs. He shifted his full weight onto me and pinned down my arms with his hands. One hand released to push his gorged cock against my hole. "I will give you a baby." he appeared serious! "Listen, I need to prepare myself." I struggled to release an arm and motioned to the bottle of lube and condoms on the dresser. As I lubricated my tight silky butthole, he slipped on the condom rolling it expertly down the length. In a second he was on top of me, his deceptively strong hands lifting my legs. He felt for my hole with one hand, the other guiding his cock onto its target. I was still not fully relaxed so he tried to force it. "Please, slowly, I know you are a man, you do not need to prove anything." He smiled and kissed me more tenderly. "It is ok, I know you do not get it much in UK, don't worry, relax." He slowly pushed his huge dick into me, bit by bit till it was half in. "Oh baby, it is so sweet" he sighed. He gently started rocking his hips pushing gently in and out, a little further in each time. He put his arms either side allowing me to reach around his back, caressing it as he kissed me, never lifting his gaze from mine. "Oh god, thank you" he groaned, his dick motions making my whole body tingle with delight bringing goosebumps to my skin. "Who is your husband?" he asked as his hand ran over my forehead and though my hair. "You are." I whispered as he moaned with delight. Already a light sheen of sweat coated his back and his fresh man scent was in my nostrils. He raised himself up and put a pillow under my arse, partly withdrawing his dick. Pushing my knees up further, he remained kneeling and gently thrust himself deeper until his entire length was inside me where he held it momentarily. I started to jerk of as he speeded up his thrusts, one hand resting on his wrist. The rush of pleasure grew with each push as he breathlessly groaned, his sweat dripping onto my stomach. Waves of bliss washed over me like nothing I had known. I knew that soon I would cum as his dick started to pound harder into my relaxed arse. He reached down and grabbed my shoulders, his rhythm becoming irregular, "Ah-ah-ah, yes baby, it is so sweet" He withdrew till it was almost out and then groaned loudly in ecstacy pushing his cock to the hilt, his body quivering and his face turned skyward. "Ohhhhh god" his body stiffened as I felt his dick pulsing deep inside. I was almost cuming as he finished, so he looked searchingly into my eyes still pushing with his rock hard dick. As the ecstacy overwhelmed me and my orgasm came, he pushed his dick fully inside me. I could almost see stars in the sweetness of the orgasm and my hips shook in uncontrollably against his unyielding body. My whole body felt the intensity as it gradually subsided.
He carefully drew out his hard cock and unrolled the condom into a tissue. He slipped onto his side next to me and brushed his hands over my chest. I looked at him and he kissed me affectionately. "Thank you Gra-ham you are a nice guy, so sweet". I wondered if it was pillow talk but there was an unexpected sincerity in his eyes. "You know, I only have two weeks here, otherwise it would have been nice to get to know you before we...." "It's OK." he cut in. It transpired that I saw Ishmahl most of my days there. I don't think either of us could account for the fondness that seemed to grow between us. As far as I know, he is still a Togolese gigolo, but we remain in touch and I look forward to my next visit. I sometimes idly wonder if geography has cruelly separated me from someone very special.
Note to reader: Any comments or constructive criticism is most welcome. Thanks for reading this.