I went to Zimbabwe with no hopes of any exciting encounters. A few months before, its President Mugabe was proclaiming to the world that his countrymen, indeed all of Africa, were not polluted by the vice of homosexuality. It was not part of African culture, he said. If pressed, he'd probably have made an exception of South Africa, where such unnatural practices can easily be found, clearly caused by the colonialist white man's imposition of unnatural apartheid. He'ld have to make one more exception too, since his bigoted outburst was meant to silence the row over his ex-president, Canaan Banana, who it seems had been enthusiastically buggering his favourite uniformed body guard regularly and not very secretly for a number of years.
So what was the real situation? I was determined to find out. The resort where I stayed for 3 nights was staffed by some smart articulate women, but mostly by men. Young men. Good looking, young black men. All it seemed, well-built, on the slim side, with big smiles and friendly personalities.
Were all Zimbabwe men like this? Or were these hand-picked by the resort for just these very features? A fair number also had handsome, strong, rounded buttocks on high arses, and close fitting black trousers with several suggestive bulges.
Well Mr. President, if you're right, they're either lusting after girls, or already married and screwing their wives several times a night once all the kids have gone to sleep. But it looks like it's going to be interesting finding out.
I was greeted at Reception by an efficient young man in glasses, with just a hint of too, too much charm. But I was much more taken with his out front helper, whose badge told me he was Joshua. Joshua was lithe, young, not tall, slim, with a strong firm handshake. He moved with the unconscious grace of a wild male animal. His face was strong-featured, with gleaming white teeth, a slow, deep, deliberate speech, and an open manner. My heart was giving those little bumps that make your pulse beat a little faster, and speech a little too eager. I was sure that I could find excuses to visit the Reception area often.
Later that first day I took a ride out to one of the local golf courses, and played nine holes. I had a caddy called Costa, who I chatted to more and more familiarly. But I was too busy with the golf to do more than find out that he was married with kids, and hadn't any idea where I wanted my familiar chat with him to lead to. (Suggestive talk with young black caddies, while we wander, just the two of us, round the golf course, with him as my paid assistant, has led on several occasions to satisfying suck offs in the bushes, and later to wild free for all fuck sessions, where the strong, young caddy/golfer gets to show how he can drive his black shaft straight down the fairway for deep holes in one.)
That evening was mostly spent (wasted?) enjoying a carvery with my boring work colleague, planning the next day's meeting where I had to present a key proposal. It was already late when we finished, so my recce was more to get the lie of the land than in the hope of finding a willing sex partner. I found a couple of chairs and was watching the bush area in the dusk where they said you could sometimes see elephant and hippo wandering. Large wild animals do indeed still roam free in many countries in middle Africa, where there are few fences to restrict them.
The lights from the hotel behind me were obscured for a moment and I looked to back to see in silhouette a figure on patrol in boots, a sort of bush jacket and a large bush hat. He came over and greeted me - seemed I had found the spot where he spent much of his patrol, keeping a look out on the vehicles nearby, and on some large tourist boats used to take visitors out on the lake to view hippo, wild life and birds. (If you're a birder, you must visit Africa - you'll go bananas.)
We chatted. His English was extensive, but a little bookish. Our chairs were close and as we talked I put my hand on his thigh and kept it there. He didn't show any discomfort, but in Africa you have to be aware that there is much physical contact between men which has no sexual content. (Friends will walk down the street holding hands in most African countries, and it means they are friends. You can do it too with a black man, and whites may think it strange, but not blacks. If you hang on to someone's hand after shaking hands, it means you want to be friends, but no more.)
We talked about being a visitor, and I led that on towards being alone and not having a family to go back to tonight. He had a wife and family about thirty kilometres away, and he went to spend the weekends with them. There was no work where he lived, so he had to work during the week at the resort. His name was Themba, and my hand stayed on his leg. It started stroking his leg. Where was my wife, he wanted to know? I told him I had no wife. That I had to find my pleasure in other ways.
`Do you like men, and not women?' he asked.
`I like both women and men, but tonight it seems that there are no women.'
This was received in thoughtful silence. After a minute or two, he removed my hand from his leg. Ah well, I thought, it was interesting for a while.
`There are people walking here,' he said, indicating some other guests strolling some way off, too far to see what we were doing in the dim light. So why was he concerned that they should see my hand caressing his muscular thigh?
`There are no women here tonight', he said, `not for you and not for me.'
I waited, for surely this was to lead to something.
Then he said, quaintly and rather formally, `I will have sexual intercourse with you, if you wish.'
Bang, there it was, right out in the open - no skulking around, no more hints and innuendos. However, this was Africa, this was an African male, married with kids, offering to have sex with me. But to do what? To `make love' as in love between men? No, surely rather to do than be done to. That way he would not be gay, or queer, or homosexual - he would still be manly, though satisfying another man's lust. And possibly for reward.
`How much will you give me?' The gap between rich and poor is large in most African countries, as in many other parts of the world where sex with men can be easily had for reward. So I was partly prepared. And he was indeed very sexy, and partly because it was so unlikely for us to have reached this point. We haggled. And agreed. But for the next night. By now my work for the next day, and sleep, were both calling loudly.
`When will you come?' he asked, `I will be ready for you'. That sounded rather interestingly eager, or perhaps he was just making sure the deal went through.
The next evening, before going for something to eat, I strolled across to the patrol post to check out our assignation. He was lounging shirtless in an easy chair on one of the boats nearby. He had a friend with him - one of the band who were due to play later. He offered me a drink from the bar of one of the boats. It turned out that part of his remuneration included limited supplies from the bar on board. I found another chair opposite him and we chatted for quite a while about trivialities - the hippo, the weather, the band.
His naked chest and arms gleamed brown and exotic in the reflected light from the water. He got up to get his friend another drink, and I noticed a pair of handcuffs dangling from his leather belt. Naturally, after he was a night watchman and he might have to arrest an intruder. I finished up my drink and said I was going for something to eat. While his friend's attention was distracted, he leaned close to me and said quietly, `I will be ready for you when you come later.'
I don't remember what the food tasted like - I suppose it was okay. The band started to play, which meant to my overheated imagination that his friend had left him, and he was now alone, waiting for me to join him so that he could supply me with sexual intercourse as promised. .
I tried to eat slowly, and finally finished with what I hoped did not look like unseemly haste. I narrowly evaded an invitation from another colleague to join their party for drinks. And went by a roundabout route to his patrol post. He was still on the boat. I joined him in another seat. I was facing the light and he was facing me, still naked above the waist, with his khaki trousers and boots on. I couldn't see much other than his head and body silhouetted against the light. I thought briefly of the handcuffs. What was I actually getting myself into here? Was I going to end up handcuffed as an awful example to visitors not to flout the Zimbabwe moral ethic?
`I have been waiting for you,' he said, `I am ready'.
`Do you really want to do this?' I asked, still wanting to be sure that he was a willing partner.
He took my hand, and pulled it across to the front of his khaki pants. `I am prepared for you', he said.
He placed my hand gently on the heavy, swollen shaft in his bush trousers, and held it there till I began to explore the shape and length of his hidden black member. He wanted it, that was clear. He was hard before we even started anything. He pushed his thighs out slightly to let me explore it better. It lay across his crotch, stiff and strong, straining the thin khaki fabric.
`Come', he said, `we will go to another boat.'
As he got up, I noted thankfully that he no longer wore the handcuffs dangling from his belt. So maybe I wasn't going to get arrested in the middle of having his dick up my arse. Maybe I was just going to have his dick up my arse.
The other boat was further away and darker, and you could see anyone approaching well before they could see you. He hauled out an old boat seat and put it down in one of the passages. He lay down and indicated for me to lie down beside him. I lay awkwardly and felt for his trouser fastenings. He helped me, at the same time reaching to undo my trousers and open my flies. He reached my hard dick first and started to stroke it. At last I got his trousers open and took his strong shaft in my hand. I bent my head to lick and savour the size and smell and shape of the first Zimbabwe man's cock I was lucky to give pleasure to.
It was slightly larger than medium size, uncut, and solid muscle. He pushed my head down to get more of his throbbing tool it into my mouth. I took it almost all the way down, gagging slightly. He sighed as I pleasured his fuck tool, caressing the back of my neck with his rough hand. It was so awkward I couldn't stay there for long. When I straightened up he reached again for my stiff dick, and we stroked and handled each other. I hadn't really expected him to touch my dick - it was a bonus.
`You have a condom?' he asked. We stood and as I got it out of my pocket he pulled my pants down over my arse and started stroking my bare buttocks. His black dick was jutting straight out from his open pants. I rolled the condom carefully onto it, and applied some lubricant.
Just then he heard a sound from up nearer the hotel.
`Wait', he said.
But he made no move, and stood with his cock bearing the condom, still jutting out hard and strong and powerful in the dim light. At last he turned, and said, `Now we will do it'.
He made me lie down on my back on the old boat seat in the passage, and lifted my bare legs up over his elbows. I raised my arse as he pushed the head of his strong black dick into me, and in a few steady, slow but irresistible thrusts pushed it home to the root. My dick was squashed against his hard brown stomach, as he started to fuck me strongly and regularly.
He was breathing like an athlete, pacing himself for the event. His fuckpole filled up my hole time and again with a wonderful sensation of solid man muscle, doing its job.
`I like to do this,' he said, `it's good.'
If it was good for him, it was also good for me. His hard stomach and sometimes his bush jacket pressed and rubbed on my own swollen dick. The boat seat squashed under me and my legs were jammed against two struts to hold me still as he thrust his hot, black, strong, pulsating, penetrating, mantool, spunk shaft, male organ, stiff rod, cock, dick, penis - his very man hood pulsed into my eager invaded body.
As he stiffened and ejected his manspunk into me, I felt my own cum spurting joyfully and naturally into the hot squashed space between our stomachs.
`I like to do this', he said again, as we lay close and softening in the warm scented dark.
`Did you like it?' he asked.
`I liked it very much.'
`Good. I think you liked it.'
He pointed to the liquid moistening our stomachs as he moved off me and adjusted his undershorts, then pulled his khaki trousers back on, doing up the fly buttons with a calm, unhurried, natural rhythm.
`Maybe we do this again tomorrow night.'
A statement of possible intent to fuck me up the arse again. I could live with that.
The next day was hard, hard work, but we finished early enough for me to have a quick swim, and take the hotel bus into the town to sight see for a little while. Nice low key centre, with a fair smattering of fellow tourists. I had a drink in a bar, chatted uneventfully, finished up and headed for the place where the hotel bus was due to pick me up. Vehicles came and went, including some buses, but none seemed to be mine. The time was past, so I asked a local, who said my bus had just come - and gone without me.
A bus from a neighbouring hotel came and I jumped on, explaining what had happened. By now it was getting dark - the sudden dark of tropical Africa. The bus turned off about a mile and a half from my hotel and the driver asked the only other passenger, who was also walking to a place along the road, if he would walk with me. Turned out, though it was a normal public road, it was quite usual to find wild animals on that part of the road at night. Two was safer than one.
My companion was a young man about twenty with a walkman. He let me listen to the tape - rap rubbish, but it kept him happy as we walked. But I managed to get him to stop listening long enough to learn he was a salesman, unmarried, with a girl friend. He was staying with his brother in a caravan along the way on a short holiday from Harare. His girl friend was in Harare.
`So no women for you on holiday?'
As we walked I steered the talk to sex, and teenagers having problems `cause their cocks keep getting hard. We had got to the point of him letting me feel his cock before he turned off to his caravan. It stayed resolutely soft, though interestingly large. We agreed that he needed a girl for it to get hard, no matter how I stroked and squeezed it through his track suit bottoms, which he seemed quite content for me to do. Maybe he was wondering himself if it would stiffen.
He asked if I wanted to come to the caravan to meet his brother, but I said no thanks. Afterwards I wondered about the invitation - did he perhaps know things abut his brother that he wasn't telling me. But by then it was too late - he had disappeared into the darkness.
I finished my trip back to the hotel and saw a few impala, close by, wandering into the roadside bush into the deepening dusk. Joshua was very concerned that I had walked back through the dark - didn't I know there were lion and hippo!! I vowed I would find a way to make a move on him this very evening - it was my last.
But first, Themba the watchman.
When I got there he was entertaining, not just his friend from the night before, but the rest of the band as well. I joined them briefly for a small drink, but thought this was going to take more working out than the previous night. So I excused myself, and started back to my room.
I passed one of the security guards who had earlier offered to wake me if hippo came into the garden to graze, and exchanged a few words. Another guard came up and spoke briefly in Shona. He had a face like a schoolboy, open and innocent, but a tall and muscular body like a man.
My meal that night was absolutely delicious, but I rushed, it making sure that I didn't get trapped by my work colleague or by any of the others who'd attended that day's session. But there was a group of locals who caught my interest - a big party with people of all colours and sexes having a great time.
I'd noticed a boisterous young man earlier showing off in a very sexy way. At one point he made for the washroom round the corner so I gave it a chance. He was busy with his denims unbuckled and big cock out pissing into the stall. He was a bit drunk and grinned happily and innocently while I joined him, but the chat went nowhere and he lurched off back to the party.
Time for Themba.
The boat was still full of friends. He saw me and asked me over for another drink. I said no, I'll stop by later. So that left me at a loose end for a while. I went back to reception and saw Joshua leading an elderly couple off towards their room, right at the other side of the hotel. I found a quiet place to lean against a low wall, where I could see him at their door, and I could waylay him on the way back.
He crossed over to talk to me very willingly. I asked him about his job, his family He leant/sat against the wall next to me.
`I think that you know this already.'
He looked at me puzzled.
`I think you are a very attractive young man. You are a very sexy man. You are strong and manly, and I like you very much.'
He grinned, not quite knowing how to take it.
`I know in this country that they say that it is wrong for feelings like this between men. But I have been in many countries, and it is the same. Men everywhere have sexual appetites, and sometimes it happens between men. I have no wife now, and often I see young men, like you, who I think are very nice.'
`You have no wife? I am not married yet, but you say you have no wife.'
`I was married for many happy years, but my wife died and now I'm alone. I don't want another woman, I was very happy with my wife. So now I would rather meet young men. Do you mind me talking like this?'
'No, I don't mind.'
He smiled that same calm, strong, open smile that captivated me earlier.
`I think that you are a strong young man in many places. I can see when you stand and walk that you are very strong there. Is it true - and is it also big as well as strong?' I made sure he knew I was talking about the clear bulge in his black uniform trousers leaning next to me. I moved a little closer, testing. He giggled nervously.
`Ah, no it is not so big, but yes, it is strong.'
I moved my hand underneath his bent leg, and stroked close to the underside of his crotch. He stayed still.
`I think it is in there, waiting for something nice to happen.'
He put his hand on my arm, and nodded his head towards the outline of the hotel a little way away. The security guard was watching us from a distance. He started to move towards us. I removed my hand, and we made safe small talk. What had the guard seen? Was I going to be arrested? What would Joshua say if asked?
The guard's name was Jabulani, and he just wanted to join in the conversation it seemed. So - no handcuffs this time. We chatted some more, I said I was leaving tomorrow and I wouldn't have a chance to talk to Joshua again about his hopes etc. etc. As we strung this out, the guard wandered off again, but not too far away. I could see that, despite my interest in Joshua, nothing was going to come of this, so reluctantly bade him goodnight as he went back to Reception. I wondered if Themba was now ready `to have sexual intercourse with me' once more, fucking me on the seat on the boat in his assured style.
I got up and spoke to the guard on my way. It was the same young-faced one I had noticed earlier. He was leaning against a wooden fence in a very casual manner, arms splayed out, hips jutting forward. His dark nylon type uniform was baggy and nothing was clear. His uniform cap disguised his features. But he wanted to talk. About his job, with nothing much to do, and all night to do it in. About the game which wandered about outside the fence at nights. And me.
What had I been talking about with the other man?
This was clearly not any old talk. This was interested talk. He had seen us, Joshua and me, very close earlier, as we talked. Did he suspect anything?
I moved closer. He stayed where he was, leaning provocatively against the fence. We talked about life. About many things. He is not married, and we talked about how it is like for a young man. And when he is away from home, and has no wife or girl friend.
`That is how it is for me', he said. `I have no wife and no girl friend.'
I touched the loose part at the front of his trousers.
`These are very heavy', I said, `are they very hot to wear?' I kept my hand there.
`What do you want to do?' he asked.
`I want to feel if it is strong.'
`Yes, it is strong now.' He waited.
I reached and felt for his dick. It was strong and hard inside his uniform. It lay sticking up at an angle, like a rock to my probing fingers. I looked around.
`I would like to see it,' I said. `Is there some place that we can go? Out there?' I pointed to the dark bush outside the fence.
`No, there it is dangerous - there are animals.' He paused, thinking. `We can go to your room.'
`Is it safe?' I asked, not fancying being caught in the act.
`I am one of the guards', he said, `so it is safe. What is your room number?'
`37', I said, `up there', pointing.
He followed next to me to my room, not at all concerned about any appearance that we were not going together. I suppose we could have explained that he was coming along to check on the security in my room, or something. But no-one saw us.
Once inside we grabbed at each other and pressed our hard cocks together through the clothes. I took his cap off, and started to undo his shirt.
`No - now I have not much time. Later we will do it better.'
He guided my hand to help him get his cock out of his uniform. It was strong and black and big - bigger than Themba's, and he was very excited. I stroked it a few times, before taking the length of it in my eager mouth. He pushed it into my lips hastily as though he had to do it quickly, quickly. I undid my belt and zip as well as I could while he jabbed his hot young black cock into my face. I managed to pull my pants and everything down onto my thighs and get my arse bare.
I pulled him over onto me so that as he lost his balance and fell forward he fell on top of me and I was on my back. At the same time I lifted my legs, so that suddenly he found his throbbing dick pointing at my exposed and naked arsehole.
I grabbed a condom from the side table and slid it onto his hard fucktool, and rubbed a finger full of grease over it.
He looked down and grabbed his hot pole.
He put the stiff head against my hole, found the entrance and shoved it in me.
He fucked like a man possessed, no style, no finesse, just kept shoving it in me until he came.
Then he quickly withdrew and pulled his guards uniform on again he'd never really taken it off.
`I will come back later', he said, `now the other guards are looking for me'.
`I will leave the door open', I said. `What time will you come?'
`After midnight', he said, `then it is very quiet and we will have more time.'
It turned out that Themba was still occupied with his band friends who'd decided to make a drinking night of it on the boat. So I settled for a second hectic bout with Jabulani if indeed he was going to `come back later'.
I don't think I slept at all, half awake for the door to be pushed open and a horny Zimbabwe security guard in full uniform to ravage my horny hole again. When he did come, I had dozed off, and woke to a soft knock. It was two o'clock.
The black uniformed figure was silhouetted for a moment against the open door. Then he came and closed it softly behind him. This time we undressed each other slowly, he doing the same for me as I for him. I got all his clothes off, including the heavy work boots.
His naked black body was slim and strong, with the litheness of youth. His black dick stuck out strong and hard and ready. I nibbled his nipples. He groaned softly. He did the same for me it seemed he was learning as we went along. He put our stiff cocks together and rubbed them both, one against the other. His body was teenager soft in places, the muscles still to develop definition.
I asked how old he was he said nineteen.
I stood him against the wall and rubbed his body all round and all over. When I started work on his arse crack he let me for a moment, and then stopped me.
He turned me round and rubbed me from the back, leaning his heavy stiff dick against my bunched arse and moving it sensuously up and down against the crack.
I bent over on a stool in front of the mirror.
He took the condom pack from the desk top and rolled one on. As I watched his reflection he stood and found my quivering hot hole. He put the head of his raging dick against it.
Gently this time he pushed the big head into position and slowly, slowly worked it up into my chute. I pushed out to help it in. It felt bigger this time.
Every so often he stopped and let me adjust to the feel of his rod filling more and more of my pleasure channel. This was a champion fucker. So different from the quick time we had before. His black hands came round my chest, sometime onto my shoulders, as he pulled me back relentlessly on to his iron black fuckpole.
At last there was no more left it was all inside my tight hole. My hole was tight around his strong dick.
`That is good now' he said softly, leaning forward towards my ear. `Now I will do it to you again. Like I do it to my brother'.
He started a long slow rhythm which took his long dick almost out of my arse and then deep in again. At first some of the deep strokes hurt my insides, but after a bit it got OK again. I panicked when he pulled it almost out, thinking it would slip out, and tightening my arse hole muscles. So when he teased me on the edge, by the time he thrust it steadily back in again he was pushing against a tight ring of muscle, not a relaxed one. The way he did it, I was tight each time he fucked in he was having a great time. My muscle was clamped like a vice round his strong hot thick hard black tool.
Gradually he picked up the pace, and the pounding got slowly faster and faster. He was thoroughly master of my hole, gripping my shoulders as he plunged his manhood into me.
It was all I could do to take everything he gave me, panting and groaning as I enjoyed the willing rape of my butthole. Suddenly he grabbed my stiff cock and started to jerk me off. I couldn't stop him.
His climax was a long high gasp and a dozen of the deepest strongest thrusts, which I could only survive because I knew they were for him the peak of pleasure.
His hand on my cock brought me spurting all over the desk, my white spunk on his strong black hand and over my thighs.
His cock softened very slowly and he kept it up me as long as he could.
I helped him dress into his uniform again, taking pleasure in the heavy boots, the cap, the other macho symbols of authority. But he was only a boy. A strong young big-dicked black boy who liked to fuck arsehole.
We swapped addresses. He made me promise that I would write next time I was going to visit. And indeed I got a card from him some weeks later, referring to our good time in `Room 37'.
I am due for another visit in about two months' time. I'd better get in some practice getting fucked by a champion. Perhaps I can persuade him to bring his brother along.
Zimbabwe men are doing fine, I am pleased to report, and living and fucking well in Zimbabwe.
For American and UK readers, please note, in Southern Africa we all use the word 'black' very easily - it's the normal and commonly used name.
There may be later firsthand stories from Zambia, from Zaire, a second encounter in Zimbabwe, one from Maputo in Mozambique....
....firsthand from southern africa.... 1998