Drums in the Night

And earlier today we had arrived in Nairobi—Jean-Phillipe; Massie Strang, a makeup artist; Dory Dawson, the costumer; Harry Benton, the business and logistics guy; Tony Larson, the lighting guy; and me, the model. These photoshoots required a lot of support, and taking them on location was a major undertaking.

Aasir met us with two Kenyan drivers, introduced as Milo and Pili, in two Land Rover vans. We were only driven out to the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport border drive, Tower Road, though, and to an adjacent hotel. Aasir explained that it was a hard 260-kilometer drive toward the Indian Ocean coast to the Tsavo National Park West, so he'd booked us all into an airport hotel for a night of rest from our long flight, expenses covered by our housing deal.

The support personnel were doubled up in rooms, gender matched, but Jean-Phillipe and I were provided separate rooms. Jean-Phillipe had dropped enough hints in his contacts with Karu that I'm sure Aasir caught on that he could have booked the photographer and me in the same room, but late that night, when Aasir knocked on my hotel room door, it became obvious why he hadn't.

I assumed that Aasir would wait until we were at his resort before he found a time for us to be alone, but he didn't wait. He came to my room that night, laid me out on the bed, feeling me up until I begged for the cock, and then put his arm under my waist, jack knifed me backward, crouched between my thighs, and fucked the stuffing out of me.

I was panting and trying to regain my breath from the second breeding sometime around 3:00 in the morning when we heard another knock on my door followed by a key card opening it but being caught by the night chain. Aasir had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign out, turned the lock, and set the chain when he entered the room.

We heard a softly spoken "Mark?" but Aasir was holding me close, with a beefy hand over my mouth.

"The French photographer?" Aasir whispered in my ear, and I nodded an assent.

"He fucks you, I assume?"

Another nod.

The door was rattled, but the chain held. We heard an exacerbated "Shit" and then the door closed again and Jean-Phillipe was gone.

Aasir took his hand away from my mouth. "I thought so. I'll have to speak roughly with Pili."

"Pili?" I asked.

"Yes. You met him today. One of the drivers."

"Why will you have to have a talk with him?"

"I saw that your photographer fancied the lad. I didn't want the photographer to do what he just did—to come here to sniff around for you. I told Pili to service him—to exhaust him. If he did, it wasn't for all night and he didn't tire the man out. Pili usually can keep a man busy for all night."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. I didn't have to. Aasir continued. "He's a sexy man."

"Pili?" I asked.

"No. Jean-Phillipe, your photographer. Does he go both ways?"

"I don't know," I answered. And that was the truth. I didn't know whether Jean-Phillipe flip-flopped. He only topped with me. Still, I was a little put out that Aasir was asking about what Jean-Phillipe would do. The black bull was lying on top of me with his monster of a dick up my ass and he was asking about whether another man could be had? Still, I wasn't irritated enough to roll away from the man. But I realized that went with the package of this stud bull. He was arrogant but he had every reason to think he was by right.

"Does he share you?" the black giant asked. "I wouldn't mind doing you together with him."

"We haven't done anything like that."

"Not with him, maybe. But you've done that with others, I'll bet. You're such a randy little piece."

I didn't deny I had, and by not denying it, I was confirming I'd been doubled before. "I don't think anyone could take another man with you," I said. "You're much too big to share."

He laughed. "I remember asking you before if you thought you could take it and you said you could try. Maybe some night you could try this too." When I didn't respond, he added, "This little project of yours might become quite interesting." Then he turned me, pulled me up onto all fours, mounted me, thrust inside me, and fucked me again.

* * * *

We drove up to the safari lodge at the Tsavo National Park West early the following afternoon, arriving in the two Land Rovers. That there was tension between Jean-Phillipe and me first surfaced at breakfast in the airport hotel, when Jean-Phillipe snubbed me and concentrated on being pals with Aasir. I didn't have any trouble figuring out that he was ticked that I didn't let him in my room the previous night, but I didn't think that he knew that it was because Aasir was in my room—on my bed and fucking me. Otherwise I don't think he'd be so chummy with Aasir this morning.

Aasir and I hadn't revealed that we knew each other—intimately—earlier in the day. I'd told Jean-Phillipe that I heard about the resort from someone who had learned about it from someone else. Jean-Phillipe wouldn't have thought that the black bull would have been able to make a move on me quick enough to be in my bed not long after we'd arrived from a series of long flights. We hadn't particularly interacted with each other at the airport or at dinner that night. Aasir and Jean-Phillipe were hitting it off too well between them.

So, I chose to play it as if I hadn't heard him try to get in my room at all in the night. I acted like there was no tension between us. Jean-Phillipe didn't relent, though. When it was time to drive to the lodge from the airport, in what was a six-hour trip because of the poor condition of even the main Kenyan roads, Jean-Phillipe made sure that he, Harry, and Tony rode with Aasir and the driver, Pili, in the lead Land Rover and that I was left to ride with the women, Massie and Dory, with the other Kenyan driver, Milo, in the following vehicle. That, of course, ticked me off and Jean-Phillipe had the satisfaction of seeing that it did, but I recovered quickly and didn't make a fuss about it.

The lodge turned out to be more luxurious than I thought it would be even though I'd seen some photos of it on the Internet. It also gave the impression that it was a men-only retreat and of men who preferred men. All of the Kenyan attendants were men and they all, including the drivers Pili and Milo, who we'd already journeyed with, were beautiful young men. They padded around bare chested and barefooted, with just colorful cotton rectangles of cotton, the apparel being called a shuka, wrapped around their waists, dipping low toward their pubes. It was low season. There weren't many other guests there, but when I went to the pool after a short rest, all of the men who were there and who had been ogling the attendants, turned their attention to me. Massie and Dory were at the pool with me, as was the lighting guy, Tony, and it was just Tony and me that the male guests were eyeing. Massie and Dory didn't mind, but I got the distinct impression that they were taken up with each other and didn't care what any of the men fancied.

The first round of photoshoots was that evening, at the lodge. We wouldn't go out for the shots taking advantage of the landscape until the next day. I was photographed wearing casual, but expensive, and quite sexy, evening wear in the twilight around the swimming pool, which was lit up by underwater lights and tiki torches, augmented by whatever theatrical lighting Tony brought to bear to make the surroundings as beautiful as I was. After the official photoshoot was over, I was photographed not wearing anything by just Jean-Phillipe on the camera and Tony, who I could tell was as hot and bothered for me as Jean-Phillipe ever was, handling the lighting and keeping any of the other resort guests at bay.

Right before dinner, there were other shots, me in a tuxedo from the fashion house's line in a tableau of me arriving at dinner to meet Aasir, who Jean-Phillipe had had Harry pay to be included as a gorgeous prop. The two of them, Jean-Phillipe and Aasir had continued hitting it off very well. I had been afraid that having the two of them share a vehicle for a six-hour drive would result in Jean-Phillipe learning that Aasir had bedded me at the airport hotel, but this apparently wasn't the case. Aasir was being quite cagey about that.

After Jean-Phillipe had done the dining room photography he wanted to do, we settled in to eat the gourmet dinner that had been laid out in the background for the commercial shots. This time I was seated with Jean-Phillipe and Aasir. Aasir was charming with us both through dinner. Jean-Phillipe was still short with me. After dinner, when Jean-Phillipe went out to the pool area in the dark to smoke, I tracked him down.

"What's wrong, JP?" I asked. "You've been testy with me all day." I played the hurt innocent, not revealing that I had a very good idea why he was punishing me.

"You know what's wrong," he answered.

"No, I don't, or I wouldn't have asked. Did the long flights put you on edge? You had a burr under your saddle before we drove here from the airport hotel."

"I wasn't tired last night. I was horny."

"Yeah, I got that. Last night, after dinner at the hotel, you were frisky. And today you're frosty. You were flirting with one of the lodge drivers—Pili, was it? I assumed you wanted to indulge in him last night and he seemed quite willing, so I went straight to bed, took a couple of PM pills, and put in the ear plugs, playing soothing music, to help me go to sleep." I'd thought ahead on why I wouldn't have heard him knocking on the hotel room door and rattling the door against the night chain.

"Ear plugs? Music?"

"And my PM pills. You know when I take those, I am out of it for hours."

"You thought I'd be spiking Pili in my room last night?"

"Um, yes. Didn't you?" I could see from the expression on his face that he had fucked Pili. He'd fucked Pili and then had come for me later in the night. That explained why he'd come so late. It also ticked me off a bit. I was just seconds with him now?

"I came to your room. I knocked and used the key card I had. You knew I'd taken a key card for your room. You had the night chain on and you didn't answer the door."

"Because I didn't hear you and was zonked with music playing in my ears. It must have been habit that had me put the night chain on. But you were with Pili, weren't you? I went to bed late. If you came by, it must have been really late."

"I suppose," he said. Now he'd gone into a pout. But I'd also managed to put him on the defensive. It was, of course, up to me to make it all right.

"I'm sorry. I would have liked you to be in bed with me last night. What can I do tonight to make it up?" We'd been given separate rooms at the lodge. Part of Jean-Phillipe's pout and punishment earlier was not to make a fuss over the separate rooms. Nothing had been said about him coming to mine or me going to his.

"I think you know what you can do for me," he said.

What I could do for him was give him a very nice blow job and, when he'd recovered from that, I writhed under him in a missionary on the bed in his room before returning to mine, where Aasir was waiting for me and fucked the shit out of me.

For me, it was a glorious night. I was such a wanton slut. Jean-Phillipe never did admit that he'd fucked Pili in his room the previous night before trying to get at me in my room—but we both knew he did.

* * * *

I was rousted out of bed while it was still dark by Aasir, who was already up and dressed in safari wear and holding two steaming cups of coffee. Jean-Phillipe had said he wanted to be out in the bush to start taking fashion shots with the dawn and, foolish me, I hadn't believed him. It turns out he was serious, though.

We didn't go far from the resort buildings to do the initial work, with me wearing various casual clothing and posing between the split trunks of a dead baobab tree that that been split by a lightning strike. The scene was set with an orange-red rising sun in the background, its colors vivid in the pristine atmosphere, the rising mist able to be caught on the camera. After the commissioned fashion shots, Jean-Phillipe, always mindful of his side business, had me strip and he took nude shots of me in the same poses.

For this first shoot, in addition to me, it was just Jean-Phillipe; Aasir, as guide; the Kenyan Pili, as driver; and the lighting guy, Tony. I'd gotten quick costume instructions from Dory as we were pulling out, but Jean-Phillipe brushed off any makeup work from Massie, saying, "We want him to have the early-morning tussled look, enveloped in the mists of dawn, for this—and later, a bit of a wild look will do, as he's on safari."

I wanted to say that he had a big share of why I'd have the tussled look after having him in bed with me during the night, but we were being hustled about too quickly for me to say it. I imagine that both Dory and Massie knew about that happening anyway. They seemed absorbed with each other, though.

As the dawn shoot was ending, the second Land Rover appeared, and a bunch of locals piled out of it.

"I didn't know we were to have an audience for today," I said to Jean-Phillipe.

He countered with, "Much more than an audience," but didn't have a chance to explain that before Aasir walked over.

"We'll be having lunch in the park after the morning shoot," he said. "Gatimu and John over there will cook and serve for us."

"And the two with rifles?" I asked.

"This is a wild game park," he said, with a laugh. "You are in the primeval wilderness now. The game here is both wild and carnivorous. We brought our lunch, but to much of the wildlife out here, we are lunch. Silas and Wamai are here for a different sort of shoot. There will be one rifle for each vehicle. They're both quite good marksmen."

In fact, they were both quite good specimens of manhood as well—as were the two cooks. All six of the Kenyans, including Pili and the other driver, Milo, were slender, yet well-muscled, and all were wearing the skirt-like shuka wraps that had a tail end covering their chests and going down their backs but could, as they wore them, be just sarong-like wraps of their loins and legs.

During the morning, under Aasir's guidance, the two Land Rovers moved around the park, using one arresting physical feature or the other as a backdrop for me to be photographed in various stages of dress from the fashion house the commercials would be promoting. After Tony had established the right lighting, he took up one video camera to take footage while Jean-Phillipe did the still shots. There was another video camera that Aasir held for different-angle shots and that, as the morning moved on, Tony showed Pili how to operate.

When we were on the move in the Land Rovers, Aasir and Jean-Phillipe, who were getting along famously, rode with Pili as driver and Silas riding shotgun in one vehicle, and Tony and I were in the second seat back of the other vehicle, with Milo and Wamai in front, and the cooks, Gatimu and John, in the third seat.

This was the first time Tony and I were close to each other and thrown into conversation. I'd known he'd been eyeing me with interest and I didn't discourage it. He was a bit older than I was, but he was dark-complexioned, sensually Mediterranean handsome, as many Italian men were, and was somewhat of a body-builder, having to haul around heavy lighting equipment. His biceps were massive. There was a class of men I was perpetually good to go with. Tony definitely was in that class. I willingly offered my hole to the Tonys of the world. He only need ask—or make a move. Until now, he hadn't done so.

Until now.

When those in front of and behind us were chattering between themselves and not paying attention to us, Tony put a hand on my knee and smiled at me. I left it there. He bunched up his fingers, leaving the middle one extended to draw little circles around on the flesh of my knee. I got the message, which I'm sure he knew he was sending. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his extended digit. He rubbed his finger inside my sheathing fingers. We were already having a form of sex.

"Jean-Phillipe uses you as a model a lot, doesn't he?" Tony asked.

"It seems that way," I answered. "This is the first international shoot, though."

"He any good?"

"He's much in demand as a photographer, so I guess he is," I answered. "But you're more on the side of the art than I am. Do you think he's good?"

"I don't mean in that way. I mean good in bed. He's screwing you, isn't he?" He extracted his finger from my sheathing and moved his hand, in a steely grip, higher on my thigh, fingers stroking on the tender inner surface of the leg. I didn't move that away either. What I did was open my stance, out of habit, and he moved the hand higher yet on my thigh. He also laughed. He stroked my inner thigh and, instinctively I opened my legs for him. Neither one of us was naïve. We both knew I was letting him know he could have what he was indicating he wanted—what his hand already was on the move to reach.

"We've gone a few rounds," I answered. Tony put an arm around me and gripped the tip of my shoulder. I leaned into him, signaling it all was good.

"But you're not exclusive with him, are you?"

"No," I answered. "I'm not exclusive with anyone." Tony was a hunk. I'd thought about doing it with him if he was a top but had waited for him to show interest and intent. He'd worked on my photo shoots. He knew what I would do. I'd just registered that he was in a class I'd say yes to if he asked. I was signaling a yes now. His hand was cupping my basket. He knew now that my body was saying "yes" no matter what I told him. But I wasn't telling him "no" either.

"He tells me that you're easy. That you're a promiscuous little slut."

"Jean-Phillipe talks too much about what he's getting." I didn't choose a tone that would suggest I was insulted. It was all systems go.

"And if I wanted to get what he was getting?" I felt the zipper in the shorts I was wearing being pulled down. I was hard already. My shaft had been pressing at the zipper. My hard cock protruded from the unzipped fly. Tony's hand went inside, cupping my balls and grasping the root of my shaft. I didn't stop that either.

"You have your hand in my shorts, sir," I murmured.

"What are you going to do about it?" he answered, giving me a smile.

"What are your intentions, sir?"

"Unzip me. Pull my 'intentions' out."

I gave him a little moan and reached over and unzipped him.

"If it was someone I liked, I'd let him do more than hand jobs," I said.

"Do you like me?"

"What do you think?" The hand pressing at the tip of my shoulder moved up to cup the side of my head, to turn my face to his, and to bring me in for the subsequent kiss.

A bit later, when I lifted my face from his lap when I'd finished giving him a blow job and looked around, I saw the grinning faces of the four Kenyans in the vehicle turned to us. Milo had pulled the Land Rover to the side of the track and had his head turned to watch Tony stroking my cock while I was giving him head.

Fuck them, I thought, as I pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket and wiped off my mouth.

Milo put the vehicle back in gear and got back on the track, picking up speed to try to catch up with the lead Land Rover. Tony had me in an embrace again and was unbuckling my belt for what I knew was going to be more than oral play on the middle seat of the Land Rover as it moved across the veldt and the Kenyans watched Tony fuck me—and that was OK with me—but just then we could see ahead that the other Land Rover had pulled up within a grove of baobab trees and the Kenyans in that vehicle were pulling gear out of the vehicle for a lunch stop.

Tony cinched up my belt again, gave my belly a pat, and said, "Later, I hope."