Travels of the Mind

8 Bamboo and flowers

"It looks set in for the day." Benjamin was standing at the window looking out.

She looked out of the window at the steady rain. Maisie really could not go and play in the garden, even in her Wellington boots and raincoat. Far too wet. It was a day for board games and cooking.

The rain carried on all through the morning and afternoon. It was still steadily falling when she went to bed. How she longed for sunshine and clear blue skies.

"It's not going to stay like this."

She blinked and found herself not fast asleep in bed. Far from it, instead sitting on the verandah of a house on the shady side, very clearly not in England. Across the lawn stretching out from the verandah, the trees were anything but sturdy oaks and ashes; the trees were tropical, big leaved and lush. Upon the verandah's rail a gecko looked at her. The sky was as blue as she had wished and the sunshine as bright: the contrast with the day at home could not have been greater. Before her, upon a rattan table a large glass of gently bubbling liquid, masses of ice and a large slice of lime. Gin and tonic?

Seated next to her, cool and collected as always, in a slightly crumpled, but linen always is, cream suit with open necked white shirt, sat Harris looking at her over his glass.

Such a delightful scene. Even when you have gone to bed and were looking forward to a good night's sleep tucked up and warm out of the rain; it was simply marvellous to find yourself in such a perfect place. A drink, a view, a comfortable chair, and a pleasing warmth. Would there be sex? Sex with Harris perhaps upon the white sheets of a bamboo bed beneath the mosquito net, naked bodies entwined in the tropical heat; perhaps a fan lazily turning upon the ceiling and clothes discarded on a chair. She had not had sexual intercourse with Benjamin before sleep. He had not seemed in the mood.

"What's not going to stay like this?" There was little point expressing surprise at the translocation. It had happened too often for that.

His hand was expansive taking in the view:

"Why, now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!

The storm is up, and all is on the hazard."

"Storm? You mentioned storm before..."

And, indeed, she noticed a sudden quietness, the birds in the trees beyond the lawn had quietened; beyond the trees, beyond the distant hills, a line of clouds upon the horizon suggesting change. By the wooden house, on the verandah it was all much as before, if anything more serene, more lovely. Bamboo poles, thicker than her thighs supporting the roof. She sipped her drink.

"Where are we?"

Harris smiled his thin smile. The clouds were more noticeable, dark and perhaps ominous. She crossed one leg over her knee, pleased with the light white cotton dress draped over her body.

"It's lovely here, perhaps the clouds won't come for a little while." It did seem a shame to have the scene spoilt, just as she was settling into her chair. There was, though, a change in the air, an increasing heaviness. She looked at Harris, "the calm before the storm then?"

The man nodded and at that moment the first drops fell; fat and heavy upon the ground. A light pattering. They bounced upon the hard earth, not yet moistening it. The tranquillity of the late afternoon was lost.

"I wish we could just sit here. How do you bring me to these places? I don't understand. Why me? And who are you anyway?"

All at once the rain really started, the sun disappeared and down came the water from the sky. From a few first splashes of rain to a torrent of water. Stair rods indeed!

"We should go inside." He did not answer her questions. He picked up her drink together with her own and made his way through the door into the building. Harris settled himself in an armchair, her drink and his own upon a low table. She stood looking out of a window across the lawn at the rain. It was so very different from how it had been at home that morning. The rain was not.

A drumming of rain upon the roof, an incessant noise. It annoyed.

"It feels so hot and oppressive inside. You would have thought it would have been cleared by the rain." It was heavy and humid within the house. The warmth that had been so pleasant outside, felt sticky within. She wanted to be outside in the cool. "Do you think... you wouldn't mind if I went outside, be like taking a shower wouldn't it?"

"Naked outside in the rain?"

"Would it matter? You could come too."

Harris smiled at her, an indulgent smile, "You'll get very wet."

It came to her she was already very wet, beneath her cotton dress, inside her knickers -- whatsoever knickers she was wearing; she had, after all, not dressed herself in this dream, this place, this translocation. She looked at Harris. She wanted sex, lots of it; Benjamin had not provided; Harris could. He always could.

"Feel me," she said.

How often had that happened out in colonial stations: just a few white men and women at the station; the arousing heat and perhaps boredom; how much 'hanky panky' had gone on? The bored wife with husband 'up country', seeking excitement with the handsome Englishmen fresh out from the home country; how often had men in linen lifted cotton dresses and slipped their hands within the elastic of loose knickers and slid fingers through ample curls? Not then the fashion for shaving their sex bare, the regular scrape of sharp steel upon soon to be smooth Mounds of Venus.

Harris obliged. So good to feel his strong fingers lift her dress and touch; letting his hands roam free as she had wanted Benjamin to do; strong hands being gentle; she lent in, resting her head at his shoulder as fingers rifled through her chestnut hair.

"I want sex -- lots of it," she breathed. It was fascinating, her animal desire to copulate so very much bound up with her wanting to be pregnant; her usual sexual desires leavened by the desire to be fertilised. Wonderful to be scooped up and carried, hands under her dress and upon her bare thigh, supporting her; taken to the bedroom complete with mosquito net, just as she had imagined. Crisp white sheets but nothing more. Too hot for blankets, eiderdown, or anything; too hot for clothes as she was unbuttoned; and no need for undergarments, not with what was in prospect; there was no need for anything in the way.

Placed naked on the bed, lying there with thighs apart to be cooler and, she knew, to look the sexier, to attract the male. She lay and watched Harris undress and that was itself arousing. The tall man removing his jacket, laying it carefully upon the back of a chair, turning to smile down at her as one by one he undid the buttons of his shirt.

Harris neither young nor old, his strong torso revealed, not a body builder by any means but muscular, nonetheless, a flat stomach and male hair to his chest. She watched him as a man might watch a stripper in a club, savouring the reveal. Shoes untied and socks carefully removed before he turned and undid his belt. Her eyes focused in, just below it. Awful really, but it was very much that man organ which was dominating her mind. It was about to be revealed, stiff and purposeful. A tug to the waist band, a slow unbuttoning of fly. Was he teasing her, or did men just find the act of revealing their penises to women exciting? She bit her lip -- it was exciting to her.

He did not let it spring out and up, rather he pulled trouser and pants in one from his body and slowly lowered, letting inch by inch of his upright penis become visible, as trouser was lowered so the erection came into sight. So strong, so manly -- yes, so virile!

A clap of thunder and she watched him walk to the window, naked and perfectly erect to pull the shutters to; shutting out some of the now subdued light. The sky was dark.

She watched Harris walk to the bed -- such a stiff penis, she was going to suck it, she so wanted to suck. The mosquito net parted, and Harris entered, penis first. Her mouth grabbed it even before he had a chance to settle upon the sheet.

"Mmmm, cock!" She fellated happily, thinking as she had done so many times before what it must be like to have two men in your bed, one for your mouth, one for your vagina. The pleasure of a sliding penis inside you and another just to suck, to have in your mouth. Harris and Benjamin -- a terrible thought, the worse because she knew she would want Harris in her vagina, Harris to fill her with fertile seed.

He stroked her hair as she sucked, her hand coming up to cup his balls, lifting the cool, slack sack and its contents; her hand gently stroking. Slowly Harris eased her from his penis and down onto the bed and he took charge of the lovemaking. So unhurried and so tactile. His kisses considerable, his fingers everywhere before he placed himself upon her, between her open thighs. They rolled as one, over and over from one side of the bed to the other, all the time the penis plunging.

"Make me, make me!" Pregnant or to come? Both - she wanted both.

Sex on the bed as the storm raged outside, flashes of lightning and sound of thunder and incessant rain beating down upon the roof. The thunder and lightning close but not overhead. The rain, the sound of it upon the tin roof, most definitely overhead. The room dark but for the electric flashes from the sky. She came, of course she came; how could she not in the sexiness of the situation, the heat and the manliness of the man she was with; a man who could play her like an instrument -- a 'Cello perhaps. Somehow a woodwind or brass instrument seemed more appropriate to the male.

Out in the far flung reaches of the Empire, had clandestine couplings happened again and again in the heat? Had babies resulted from such couplings, indeed, were there many babies whose fathers were not who they should have been? Or were penises withdrawn at the last moment and semen splashed safely over pubic hair, feminine tummies or pretty soft bottoms? Did the suddenly empty woman grab and stroke or hurriedly turn her body and wrap her lips over the spurting organ?

She did not wish it, perhaps unlike so many of these women from the past, but Harris withdrew, perhaps merely in tune with the scene. His penis spurting upon her, copious and hot.

Eventually they separated, their hot bodies coming apart; the penis leaking, its work done and done well upon her tummy. She felt very satisfied with the sex even if her sexual channel was not running in maleness.

Outside still the rain, she got up and walked from the bedroom, keen to see the storm, thinking as she had done before that the rain would be like a shower, washing the perspiration and sexual fluids off her body. A grimace -- better if that male sexual fluid was within! She might then, be wondering if she would fall pregnant.

A flash as she stepped out onto the verandah, showing her the long lawn stretching to the trees, the rain coming down in torrents, not vertically -- the wind was seeing to that. She stepped from wooden verandah out onto the grass, so wet beneath her feet and was suddenly soaked, her hair full of the falling rain; warm, tropical rain so like a shower -- a power shower.

The door banged shut behind her and she could not reopen it, the windows shuttered and barred. Banging on them elicited no response. Could Harris not hear her, was he asleep or the storm too loud? She was caught outside in the storm, not cold, even though soaked to the skin. She sat thinking back over her recent bout of sex in bed; thinking about Harris and looking at the storm. How could she at one moment be tucked up in her bed at home and the next here -- wherever 'here' was?

As suddenly as the storm had come it passed, the dark clouds racing away and the sun and blue skies returning. With the last drops of the warm tropical rain still falling she got up and stepped out onto the grass. She was only halfway across when it began to steam, the moisture being drawn upwards around her feet. It was then, now more than halfway to the trees that she saw them - the men.

Coming out from the trees came the men. Naked men, naked brown skinned men with rain still running down their bodies. She naked; they naked, moving to encircle her. Had they been watching her? Rare before had she seen anyone but Harris when she had been taken away by him: now there were many -- and all men. Should she run, but the house was locked against her; should she try and escape in another direction, but where to; should she stand her ground, but what then? She looked from one to another to another. Not tall men like Harris, but lithe and beautiful in a masculine way, their muscles toned from work, their hands capable.

What did they want with her? They were not carrying spears or weapons, they just had themselves. Not even leaves or scraps of cloth for covering, though, strangely, they had flowers in their hair, blooms of hibiscus, frangipani, bougainvillea or passiflora -- she did not know. To her mind the words of Scott McKenzie, the lovely tune in her head:

'If you're going to San Francisco

Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair

If you're going to San Francisco

You're gonna meet some gentle people there.'

Individually beautiful, but en masse? To be admired, but that was not so easy as they moved to surround her. What did they want? The answer so obvious when penises began to rise; a mass erection, so much pumping of blood:

'For those who come to San Francisco

Summertime will be a love-in there'

A 'love in,' was that their idea? She stared wide eyed, their brown erections all around her. Not large but certainly erect, penis after penis. They had brought spears after all. Minutes before she had been copulating with Harris but now... so many penises pointing at her, some peeled and ready, others with bulbs still hidden and occasionally movement as a foreskin just retracted all on its own. Suggestive or a warning. The men, the small men with their beautiful bodies and erections were coming closer as the circle tightened around her. Was there any point resisting or fighting -- none; she looked across at the house to see if Harris was coming to her aid -- nothing; and her body betrayed her. Was it a dream or in some way real - not a dream after all -- a dream where many men were allowed. Had she not had dreams like that before?

Hands touching her, yes, and the knobs of penises. No roughness, no rude grabbing and forcing her to the ground, hands lifting her upwards into the air, hands to wrists, ankles, arms and legs holding her gently, but securely. It was if she was bound and helpless -- she was certainly the latter - her hips pushing as she tried to free herself, opening her sex between her now splayed legs, revealing to the men -- how could they not notice -- she was already inseminated.

So many naked men, so beautiful, so gentle with her; smiling at her, nodding in enthusiastic gestures, caressing her body. She hardly noticed the first penis slipping into her, the man there between her thighs as his fellow men held her. So gentle, the sliding so smooth. She did not feel him come but she watched him leave and another enter. His brown penis high, his revealed bulb shiny brown, a dipping with his hand and he slid so easily in, so his thighs touched her own. Already one of these men had been inside her and done his deed and now a second was moving easily. Around her so many other men, no doubt keen to have their turn, but not jostling or making crude remarks, just standing there with their fellows, smiling at her with their penises hard and pointing, saying nothing.

It must have been thirty, perhaps more men who so gently slipped their penises into her. She lost count. So gentle. Penis after penis, erect and strong, pushing carefully into her. Not roughly, not one of them. Gentle insertions, opening her again and again. The movement of sexual intercourse, the sliding performed by penis after penis. It could have been the most awful thing, yet it was not - so strangely not. Their penises were not large, but they were full and so were their balls. She was sure of that. And, two by two, they were emptied into her.

To go from just the one man, in her so strange dreams, to so many was... different. A dream of sexual intercourse on an unexpected, unprecedented scale. She had had dreams before with more than one man, but not a whole tribe. Each man following another to empty his twin testes into her. Doing what Harris had not done.

Had it been awful she would not have come -- and come she did, more than once, as the rain steamed into the air beneath her giving at times a slightly ethereal, dreamlike quality to the whole scene. The naked, erect men seen through a haze -- there was, though, nothing hazy about the feel of the penises within her.

They stood in silence watching her go back across the lawn to the house. Their penises at rest. She had a strange urge to go and kiss each one of them, each soft organ, hanging there in front of its balls, spent and perhaps leaking a little: such lovely little things. She turned close to the house and just looked back at them.

'Gentle people with flowers in their hair

All across the nation

Such a strange vibration

People in motion.'

Oh, hadn't they been in motion -- such gentle motion together. She had been chosen to be the receptacle of their semen. Would she now be pregnant? The storm had come. The men had so come within her. The wetness there. Surely, she could not desire more?

She awoke, utterly sodden between her legs. "Fuck me, Benjamin please!" And this time in the middle of the night he had obliged, not knowing why she was so wet. It was so dark in their room. He had rolled onto her and just slipped his already erect cock into her. No foreplay, no going down on her, no risk of his finding the wetness was not really hers at all. If it was not. In the morning, she had found her sheet stiff and still wet in places beneath her with starchy semen. Surely Benjamin could not have ejaculated so much; he could not have held anything like so much in his balls and seminal vesicles; surely it had to be semen from more than one man; very much more than one man. She had been so liquid with him. He had kept slipping out, banging his hardness against her clitoris. That had been good. The sex had been very liquid, very slippery and unusually noisy in the silence of the night. Slippy, sloshy sounds. Again, and again, she had put him back when he slipped out, and they had kept fucking. For him a lovely surprise midnight fuck -- much better than a midnight feast! He had been awoken, had fucked, come and then gone back to sleep. Though she was not sure he had been totally awake.

And when she awoke in the morning upon the table in the kitchen a flowerpot standing; a Passiflora growing up a bamboo cane. A present from Benjamin?