One of the African guys had also decided to take a break outside the barn. He had his overall top down, showing off his dark-brown, smooth, muscular torso, with its thick meaty nipples, and a really hard, defined sixpack.
South Africa
Part 6
"You from Ikapa?" he asked, giving me a wide spray of his pure white pearlies.
"Huh?"
"From Cape Town?"
"Yeah."
"It's nice. I've got a brother there."
"Cool, man. You been there yet?"
"No. But when I get the money, I'll be moving there to help my brother."
"What's he do?"
"He makes houses for my people."
"Where in Cape Town."
"I don't know exactly, but it's somewhere near the airport."
"Oh, OK."
"You a friend of the boss Mark?"
"Think so?"
He laughed, showing his awesomely white teeth again; contrasting with his thick dark lips. His skin shone like polished ebony. "Maybe a friend of him."
"Yeah, I am."
"He's a nice man. Works hard with us." I knew enough about the guy's culture to understand that he called Mark a man as a sign of respect. If he'd called Mark a nice boy, then I would've gotten a different view of what he thought of him.
"You like boss Mark?" I asked.
"Ow, yebo! He works like us, and he's strong like a buffalo."
"You teach Mark to speak your language?"
"Lots of fun," he laughed. "We have lots of fun with him, but he learn fast."
I was really enjoying our chat, but all too soon we had to get back to work. Mark was nowhere to be seen after lunch. Turned out that he had to go see some supplier and get more stuff for the yacht. It was quite late when he came to fetch me. Then we headed home across the farm road in the Beetle, which handled the rough terrain with ease.
"They like you quite a lot," I said after I'd told him about my chat with the black guy.
"Mainly 'cause I speak their lingo."
"He said they used to fuck you around when you were trying to learn it."
Mark giggled at my remark, and no doubt the memories. And it sounded great to hear him happy. "They used to swear at me in Tswana, but as I learnt their lingo, they had to stop."
"No problems with any of them?"
"Not these guys. There was one particular guy I ended up having a fight with. He came up to me stoned, then pulled a knife on me. Stabbed the guy you were talking to in the arm 'cause he made a grab for him to protect me."
"Yeah, I remember seeing the scar, but I didn't think anything of it."
"Fired the dude's ass. It's one thing I don't like about them."
"What's that?"
"No fucking value for life. If that guy with the knife had had the chance, he would've killed me right there and then, and not have given it a second thought. Would've gone to jail for a couple of years, then come out as if nothing had happened."
"They seem pretty cool, though."
"Oh, the guys that are there now work like fucking slaves, and we get along like friends."
"They say you work as hard as they do... call you boss Mark."
"That's 'cause I'm like the boss boy of the group."
"He called you a boss man or something like that."
"It's an insult to call a black guy a boy." Then he changed the subject. "You've done some good work the last two days. That sanding is a real chore."
"Hahahaha! My arms feel like they're falling off!"
Pretty soon, we were home again. Parked the Beetle outside, then walked into the house, where there was a beautiful woman. She gave Mark a hug, then he introduced me to her. She was Fingers' girlfriend, and she was a fucking stunner and a half. Whoa! She didn't look much older than Mark or me. Mark later told me that she would drive out to the farm about once a week, but that she worked in Johannesburg. "It's quite a trek to get all the way out here every day."
Fingers came into the room and told us that he had supper almost ready, and that Mark and I should join him and his girlfriend. Mark and I showered and dressed. My skin was still itching a bit, but it was a lot better than the previous day. At least I wasn't being attacked by an army of ants.
Supper was roast beef with potatoes and veg. Mmmmmm! And I was starving! Then we had fresh fruit and cream for dessert. By the time I'd shoveled all that into my insides, I thought my gut was gonna explode!
The wine at the table was good, too. I didn't know what it was exactly, but I was guzzling reds and whites along with my beer. Guzzle, guzzle, guzzle. Woohoo!
The convo at the table was enjoyable as well. And I was reminded often that Fingers' girlfriend was a fucking honey. But it was also very clear who wore the pants. They were first to say goodnight. There was no question that Fingers was gonna get his end wet hahahaha!
Mark and I retired to his suite. I was a mess from all the wine and beer; falling all over the place, and being drunk stupid. Mark was still OK, despite having drunk as much as I had. The moment I was undressed, I collapsed in a heap onto the sleeper couch. The damn room was spinning big time. Round and round and round we go! Wheeeee! I tried to stop the spinning by placing one hand and one foot on the floor. Didn't help. So I had to stagger to the bathroom to puke my guts out.
Mark came into the bathroom to ask if I was OK. Yeah, right. I must've looked a right fucking sight with my naked ass bent over the toilet bowl.
And that's the way I fell asleep - with my head in the fucking toilet. I woke a bit later, and felt like death. Probably looked worse. Mark had left the bedroom light on for me, but he was fast asleep in his bed. Then I noticed his boxers lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Hello?
I got myself sorted out on the sleeper couch, and covered just my ass with the covers 'cause it was still damn hot as hell.
In the morning, I felt like shit. My eyes stung like they'd been pierced by two red-hot needles. I heard noises. I was pretty sure that Mark was jacking off, but I wasn't certain 'cause my eyes couldn't focus properly. Anyway, whatever he was doing, he stopped when he saw me stirring back to life - kinda.
He grabbed a towel from the end of his bed, then wrapped it around his waist as he threw off the covers. I was wishing my eyes could have focused better. But at least I could make out that he was sporting one helluva boner.
"Hi," I groaned.
"You look like shit," was his response, then he disappeared into the toilet - probably pissed that I'd interrupted his morning wank. But I guessed he would have resumed his jack session in there, well away from my prying eyes... unfocused and bloodshot as they were.
"Wanna swim a few lengths?" he asked as he emerged from the toilet looking like a million bux.
"I'll drown."
"It'll wake you up. C'mon!"
"I don't have Speedos."
"So swim in your boxers."
I rummaged around in my bag to find a pair of black briefs, which would easily reveal the whole of my family history. Then, with some difficulty, I followed Mark out to the pool. Fingers must've been on the job with his girlfriend or something, 'cause he was nowhere to be seen.
When I dove into the icy-cold water, it took the wind right outa me, and also took my briefs with it. They'd completely disappeared, so I had to dive to the bottom and go fish for them. It was one of those mornings where there was no chance of even getting a piss hardon. That damn thing was more pissed than I was!
After retrieving my briefs, and almost drowning as I struggled to put them back on, I began a lazy crawl stroke up and down the length of the enormous pool. I was actually feeling better, but I could also feel the beginnings of a headache that I knew was gonna rival the Titanic hitting an iceberg... over and over again.
We must've swum for about half an hour solid, and I was feeling refreshed 'cept for the headache, which was starting to make me feel ill. And then, whoa! Finger's was standing by the edge of the pool. He'd just seen his girlfriend off, and figured he'd come to gawk at the two teen gods of the North.
Mark asked his boss if he'd had a good night. I couldn't quite hear what Fingers' reply was, but I could guess when Mark then said, "Yeah! When hell freezes over!"
My lack of a hardon didn't stop Fingers from staring, though. Hey, I wasn't shy. Never had been; never would be. Besides, I knew that Cody loved my dick, hard or limp. It was a pretty thick sausage, and not too shy in the length department, so it filled my wet briefs, which showed it off quite nicely to the gawking Fingers.
Mark and I returned to his room, where we towelled ourselves. He also gave me two headache pills that I downed with some coffee. Then I had two glasses of water, which Mark said would help dilute the alcohol in my system.
"When ever I get trashed, I down three glasses of water before I go to bed, whether I enjoy it or not. I force them down, then wake in the morning stone cold sober. Alcohol causes dehydration, which causes you to feel sick. The water stops the dehydration. Make sense?"
"Would have made more sense if you'd told me last night."
Another pair of clean overalls, but this time I didn't wear my boxers. They drove me crazy the previous day when they were soaked with sweat.
As the Beetle trundled happily across the picturesque fields toward the distant barn, Mark was pretty quiet, so I broke the silence with, "I'll get on with the inside of that cabinet today."
"Yeah, OK. Hey, listen. We're all going for supper tonight at a restaurant, and Candy will be joining us. Would it be OK if I left you on your own tonight? Tell me if it's not cool with you, then I'll make another plan."
"It's OK. If we're going for supper, I'll probably pass out on the sleeper couch anyway. Don't hassle, 'cause I don't want you to think I'm in the way."
"Hasn't been much of a trip for you, has it." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Been pretty much OK. Thought you'd stay pissed at me the whole time, but it's getting better."
"It's not that I'm pissed off with you, Steve." Then he backtracked a little. "I guess I was in a way 'cause of what you've been up to [with drugs, etc]. I've got a lot on my plate, Steve, and I wasn't sure how the fuck I was gonna entertain you for a week."
"I needed to get outa Cape Town. So just being here is pretty much what I needed right now. I need to speak to you before I go home, though. Y'know... just the two of us chatting."
"Let me know when you're ready."
The designer guy and the African guys were already there working when we arrived. I picked up some blocks and sandpaper and climbed up the steps. Mark went into a shed and worked on something there.
It wasn't long before I was sweating every bit of alcohol out of my system. I was inside that unit sanding with paper around my fingers. I was determined to show that I could do a decent job. The only downside was that I was getting bored out of my tits. I couldn't handle this kind of job on a regular basis. It would have driven me fucking crazy!
It was different with Mark. He said that he enjoyed every boring job 'cause he could see the whole thing coming together. And there was another yacht apparently arriving in a couple of months, just as big as this one, which needed finishing.
From the talk that I'd heard around the traps, Mark and the guys working there had earned quite a reputation for their skills. I still wasn't sure what the set up was, though. The yacht they were working on belonged to Fingers, but he owned a company that did boatyard work, and that was basically what Mark and the Afs were there for. He was paying Mark quite a bit of money, or so Mark said.
Every hour and a half I went outside and folded the overalls down to my waist so that my body could breathe, and get some cool air down to the nether regions. I felt at home with the Afs as well 'cause they had these really defined bods, which meant both Mark and I could compare with them. The one who had spoken to me before chatted to me during the day, and I felt that he was like a friend to me. Hey, maybe he liked my blonde hair or whatever. I also had a bit more respect for him after I'd sussed out the scar on his arm a bit better. No way would I wrangle with any of them, though, 'cause it was like Mark said... they had no respect for life and would kill you if it came to something like that.
We finished a little earlier than we had the previous day, then Beetled home across the fields to shower and dress. I pulled on a pair of beige chinos, and Mark lent me a reddish colored shirt. It smelt like him, which was cool. I liked that guy. Hey, I was a god too, but he was a bit more godlier hahahaha!
We waited for Candy to arrive. She gushed when she saw me, which made me feel pretty spesh. Woohoo! She had a fucking Beemer [BMW] that rocked! I sat in the back, while she sat next to Mark, and let him drive. I just couldn't picture her in our group in Cape Town. She was such a special lady, and Mark was fucking lucky to have found her. Or was it the other way around?
Fingers met us at the restaurant, together with two other people I hadn't met before, who were some business folk from Joburg. I got a few stares from some of the women in the restaurant so my ego was nicely massaged thanks very much. Down, Gary. :) I was feeling good, though. It was like a combination of the work and just being relaxed and feeling fucking great.
I stuck with beer this time, but had too many. Always did. But I was OK. No wobbliness or puking or anything like that. It was a good time for everyone. The food was great and the company was great. And it was so different to be watching how Mark and Candy talked. They were so madly in love you wouldn't believe it.
When it was time to go, Mark offered to drop me off at the house. But Fingers said that it was OK 'cause he was going straight home, so I could go with him. Mark mouthed something to me [about keeping my eye on Fingers]. I just said that it would be OK, and that he and Candy should go ahead [to Candy's place] by themselves.
Fingers and I got into a totally interesting convo on the way home. He wanted to know if I was gay.Copyright © 2002 All rights reserved. mrbstories
