South African Safari Sequel

South African Safari Sequel Ch 07

Paul finishes his time in South Africa and returns to Miami

This story is entirely original and fictional. South African Safari was published on Literotica several months ago. There were requests for more chapters. (It took some time to edit and publish 06--so the comment at the end that it would be a month for 07 was a lie. This is really two chapters. So it's a little long. Sorry) I continue to examine the adventures and regrets of Paul Goodfield, a neurotic survivor of abuse who alternates between one night stands and longer term more complex relationships. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. No AI was used in the production of this story. © 2024, All rights reserved. Brunosden

(Paul Goodfield's narration and self-analysis continue:)

The return flight was even longer than the flight over. On the return, I went via London and straight into Miami--since the connections were very good. The first part was overnight with a late departure, and I slept most of the way. The last two days in Durban had been intense. Then the second part was in the daytime, and given my absence from Miami for a few weeks and the completion of the business plan in Durban, I had little work to occupy my time. The movies were terrible, and how much can you sleep after a relaxing two week holiday? I only wished that the 787s had gyms which would be an amenity worth paying for.

I started by doing one last read through of the business plan. I was convinced that I had done everything I could to set the venture on a path to success. In a few weeks if Ron struck out with investors and bankers in South Africa, I would attempt to fill the gaps with GFA contacts. I was confident enough of the success, that I was ready to put personal investment capital in--but I really didn't have much yet. My family had held on to the capital very tightly. It would be years before I had investment authority over those funds.

So I set the plan aside, thinking, "I'm not going to obsess over this. This is really not my project. I'm going to let Ron run with it for a couple of weeks. I hope he succeeds."

So that left another 8 hours to think about my life. I of course realized that I had spent two weeks enjoying Africa, with Ron, and on the next to last night, Ollie. While I had thought about Breck a bit during the first few days, and we had kept in touch with txts and emails, I was essentially going to be starting again with Breck--remembering the best that had had together, but with a lot of emotional baggage. I had used Ron again to bolster my ego. And Ollie had certainly used me! Ron had convinced me that I wasn't a natural sub, although I really enjoyed being a roughly handled bottom. Certainly it wasn't clear with Ron, it had been with Ollie.

I was going to be arriving in Miami on a Saturday, in mid October, with a day to recover from jet lag, before diving into the year-end frenzy of any financial advisory firm. We needed to "clean up" client accounts before the magic year-end reports were prepared, the reports which boasted, if possible, that GFA had grown our clients' capital accounts by way more than "the averages." And, we had to insure that the clients did not receive unpleasant tax surprises when the Federal reporting forms issued in February. It seemed that every client wanted unlimited returns AND prodigious tax losses. Of course, that was impossible. But we always did our best and present the results in the best possible light. To some it might sound tedious, even deceptive. But to me (and us), it was exciting to be in the game of outsmarting the market. And to be doing it in Miami, and South Beach, the capital of young people on the prowl for excitement, success and sex! I was looking forward to my time at MiamiBods. And I was certainly looking forward to resuming my adventures with Breck.

Breck had indicated in his last email that things were coming under control in Charlotte--and he was hoping to return to Miami by Wednesday. He seemed to be assuming we'd pick up where we left off. So I would have three or four days to rationalize what had happened in Africa and what I wanted to continue in Miami. Breck had expressed impatience with returning to Miami--and me. He couldn't wait to take the next steps in our relationship.

Of course, I now realized that I had resumed a relationship with Ron. We were not just hooks or friends with benefits. We were lovers. We were invested in each other. Ron had effectively asked me to make our relationship permanent--and had offered me half his life if I had stayed. I realized that I really loved Ron--but maybe as someone who had saved my life, who was helping me to wholeness--but not as a lifelong partner. And probably not in the bush of Africa. Well, to be true, the sex was pretty amazing. And then in the next few minutes Il would begin to dream about a life with Ron in Africa--the simplicity, the natural beauty, the sheer wholesomeness. It would probably bore me to death.

It was also true that Ron was turning into a Daddy. Was that so bad? Maybe I needed a Daddy--at least one who was as indulgent as Ron. I thought back and realized that I had done almost all of the fucking--except when I demanded that Ron take me--on a bush blanket or a Rover fender. So Ron wasn't going to drift into a dom role. He had been careful with me--even when I was his guest, not his client at the safari lodge. He respected my experience in finance and innate creative business sense. And there was no question. I had seen the love and desire in Ron's eyes, many times in fact. I could build a life with Ron. I could be confident, independent--and I could add value to our relationship. But it might be stifling.

And then there was Ollie. Just thinking about Ollie made me hard. So hard, they I moved the throw over my lap and glanced around the cabin to see if anyone might be eyeing me. I was wearing light weight sweats (really PJ bottoms) and they concealed nothing. Ollie had given me the single most exciting sex of my entire life. Ollie was danger. Ollie was lust. Ollie was, well, he was just Ollie. If I had decided to take up with Ron, what role might Ollie play? He was clearly going to be the chief ranger at the ranch. He'd be around every day.

He had apparently even taken Ron at some time in the past. He might even be some kind of tribal chieftain, or the offspring of one. Did he have a real power in that area northeast of Durban? Any operation like Ron was planning would be dependent on the cooperation and good will of the locals--and maybe Ollie controlled or at least influenced that. Was there any way that Ollie wouldn't be part of the equation if I were to decide to go to Africa? And how about Russ? I wondered how Ron had moved so quickly on Russ after he learned I was not planning to stay. Was he using me? No, it was totally out of character. And then I thought, "What kind of character reader are you, Paul? First Billy. Then so many others."

I decided to put all of this aside. So I flipped on the TV and searched for a comedy, ending up with a Robin Williams oldie. That at least kept me entertained for nearly two hours. Robin was complex, but everything always worked out for him. In many ways, I was as hyper as Robin. Maybe things would work out for me too.

I changed planes efficiently in London. I updated emails at Heathrow--and Breck had confirmed he would be back in Miami by COB Wednesday. I sent him a quick "changing planes, welcome back, can't wait to see you" response and boarded for the final leg, finally reaching Miami on Saturday afternoon. But, as was typical in October, we were delayed about a half hour due to the ever-present late afternoon thunderstorms. As I walked out of the customs area, I was surprised: Dad had come to the airport to welcome me home.

"Is something wrong, Dad?"

"Is it necessary for something to be wrong for a Dad to want to see his son?"

"That wasn't an answer."

"Well, there is nothing wrong--at least nothing unusually wrong. Your grandparents' health continues to fade. I'm guessing my Dad will leave GFA after this year. And your Mom is still concerned that her favorite boy is alone. She is searching for someone for you."

"I'm not alone, Dad. I just spent two wonderful weeks in the wilds of Africa with a guy I really like. I think we'd be a couple if he were here, but I just am not ready to give up my job, my family, my life here in Miami--as much as I've come to love the bush--and if the truth be known, to love Ron."

"Is there any chance he might consider moving here? I'm sure we could find him something."

"He won't leave. His Dad left him a large ranch which he's turning into a rare game breeding farm and a tourist attraction. He's got friends. He's got a focus for which he's trained most of his life. I couldn't ask him to move here. He'd be miserable, and it simply wouldn't work. I think it's just one of those things. It's not going to work for us. I wouldn't be happy there. He wouldn't be here."

I realized a I spoke those words that what I was telling Dad is precisely what I've been telling myself for weeks. I need to get over him. And I guess it was time to start doing that.

"I've met a guy here. He's a systems consolidator in the health field. He's got his own company, and they are hoping to go public soon. He's living in Bal Harbour at his uncle's place, but he's probably going to move to Miami permanently if the trial installation at UHealth Miami works. He's been up in Charlotte troubleshooting another installation, but he'll be back on Wednesday. I'm going to try to pick up where we left off a few weeks ago--if he's willing."

"I'm guessing he'll be willing. I can see what's in your eyes. They light up when you talk about him. And who wouldn't be attracted to someone like you? You're special Paul, in so so many ways. What's his name?"

"Breck Lodge. He's from Boston, graduate of MIT. He's my age, and he's really good looking: tall, blond, blue-eyed, muscled, a hunk and, yeah, he's hung. Oh. He's goy--about as goy as any guy in America could possibly be."

"I'm glad you told me, Paul--although the details about his reproductive equipment are maybe a little too much information for me right now. After she gets over the shock that you've picked a goy for a partner, all your mother will want to know is whether you're going to have children. I'm guessing that's not a problem for either of you. We love you and would do anything to see you happy. Mom on the other hand.....Hmmm. You said Lodge? I think I got a preliminary prospectus for Lodge Health Systems from Goldman on Friday. Perhaps it's the same guy. I really didn't focus on it. Our clients are typically not ground-floor investors in tech start ups. I'll bring it to your office on Monday. Now, I'm assuming you need sleep. Since Breck is in Charlotte, you may even get some. There is a cooler of food in the trunk from Mom. You won't have to go out tomorrow. Let's get you home. And I'll see you Monday."

As I walked in, I realized the cell was still on airplane mode. I opened it, and it exploded with txts. I had accidentally failed to remove the aircraft setting. It was of course Breck. He was frantic. "I knew you landed a few hours ago. I've been calling ever since, going to instant voicemail. Are you home?"

"Yeah. Sorry, didn't reset when we landed. I'm glad to hear from you too. Dad brought me home and Mom has sent enough food for a week. I think I'll try to catch up tomorrow--with sleep and the gym. I feel like a Sherman tank mired in mud."

"Nice image. I'm still picturing you on that mat under me. I'll be sending a tow truck right away. But keep away from the driver. He's a sex-starved pervert. He'll have you out wrestling in the mud, and he'll be in your pants before you even know what happened. Remember, I'm your only approved wrestling partner."

"Things are good here. Some last tests of the system on Monday and Tuesday. Then I'm outta here. Can I see you Wednesday night? I'll even join you at Bods if you insist."

"Sure we can talk again, but let's plan on an early start--maybe 7 at Bods? Then you can come back here and help me with all this food. And maybe a few other things that need tending."

"Sounds like a plan. I can't wait. And I do plan to help you with a lot more than the food."

Monday and Tuesday were hell. I was really sore from two plus hours at Bods on Sunday, and there were many "need immediately" requests for analysis and research. I worked twelve hours each day. Finally, Wednesday arrived and after another grueling day, filled with paper, I left for the gym, anxious to see Breck.

He too must have been anxious. He was waiting in the lobby. We bro-hugged, his hand lingering on my ass for maybe a few seconds too long. I signed us in and we went up to the locker to change. He looked delicious. I knew many eyes in the locker were watching as he changed into gym gear. He was so cut and so racked. And I felt like I had gained ten pounds--all in my gut and waist band. He didn't seem to notice--although later he forced me into extra rounds of "trunk building" sets--so I guess he had noticed. I guess he wasn't into Daddy-bods.

Then it was home to the condo. We entered and it was like a switch had been suddenly hit. I was picked up and dropped on the bed. He covered me instantly and took my face in his hands and my lips in his. We rolled on the bed, losing clothes as we flipped. I hadn't forgotten how magnificent he was--and how well we fit together. Perfect pecs. Perfect guns. Perfect abs. Perfect ass. And really perfect cock. He was acting the aggressor, but it didn't bother me at all. I was probably matching his enthusiasm. His hands were everywhere. So were mine. His legs cocooned mine. His lips never left mine. To have someone so beautiful so into me. And then he dropped the bomb.

"I didn't touch John. I haven't touched anyone. I haven't even done myself--except when I sent you that picture. I am so full of stuff that I'm afraid I might drown you. You can swim can't you?" I laughed and flipped onto my belly, pushing my ass up into him. I couldn't handle missionary. I couldn't face him; I hoped he didn't detect the perfidy in my face. "Take me now, Breck. I need that monster inside. Do it fast and rough. We've got all night to catch up." I guess my guilt wasn't obvious, at least for now, because he quickly moved into position.

He released and knelt into the vee. Pulling my cheeks apart, his tongue darted in as his nose nudged into the cleft. "No foreplay, Breck. Just jam him in!" Nevertheless he lubed me and him and began to press for entrance. I couldn't handle it. I jerked back into him and he lodged firmly, skipping past the prostate en route to a solid bottom. It hurt. He was after all hugely endowed and rock hard. But, I deserved to be hurt. He froze, everything but his dick. I could feel the throbbing inside and the minute movements of his cock in my shaft, pushing out the walls and leaking pre-cum. I wondered if he felt how I was feeling.

"I can't believe how hot you are, Paul. You're burning up. And you're burning me up. I'm already leaking and I can feel the spunk rising. I can't stop. Ahh. Here it is!" And he shot a dozen times--literally filling me so it dripped down my thighs. He rested on top, struggling to keep himself hard, plugging me, holding me tight to his hard body. It was way more than release of a few weeks spunk. He was holding himself stiff inside, making sure his seed penetrated. He was taking possession. It was as though he knew that this, the first time upon my return, had to be good, really good. It had to erase anything that I had experienced in Africa. He wanted to be my everything. He maintained a tight grip on my shaft, stalling my release. This was his time.

Then he eased off, released my dick and started a systematic tongue bath of my inner thighs as he caressed my balls and gently stroked the shaft. Then he re-entered. It was way too intense. And I shot into the bedclothes, spasming my ass and squeezing the juice out of his shaft. He pulled me into his chest and then fell on his side, spooning me tightly as his lips began to take possession of my neck while his hand continued to stroke my shaft. I had never experienced a hotter homecoming. (And I didn't even think of Ollie.)

It wasn't going to be a night for food. And it wasn't going to be a night for talk. We fucked--no, we made love--over and over again, flipping roles every time. We came simultaneously. We came in each other's smiling mouths. We came deep inside. Sometimes slow. Sometimes fast. Sometimes rough. By early morning we were sore and exhausted and wallowing in sheets wet and caked with cum. The musk in the room was pervasive. We were both in a trance. We didn't need drugs or alcohol. We had had the best. Finally we slept for a few hours.

"I've got to report into Miami. But can I come back tonight?"

"God, I've got so much work at the office, but I won't be able to do any of it. I'll be daydreaming of you and your magic wand all day. You've already turned me into a wanton slut. The hell with business. Of course you can come back. Shall we say 7? No, I think it's time for a key. I'll give you a key. You can use my unused spot in the garage. Arrive whenever you want--but if it's later than 7, I'm changing the locks!" I laughed as did he. Nothing that had happened in Africa seemed to matter at that moment. I had just offered Breck the key to my apartment, and maybe my heart.

We showered, made coffee, dressed and left the condo at a very fashionable 10. Dad emerged from his office as I entered. I'm sure I looked worn--and thoroughly fucked. "I guess you and Breck had a good homecoming. I want to meet this boy. Anybody who can make my son this happy is okay with me." He winked and handed me the draft Lodge Systems prospectus. "You didn't tell me he was the youngest son of one of the wealthiest families in America." He handed me a few client files for analysis. "If you need to leave early, these can wait."

It was a short day time-wise, only about 7 hours, but it never seemed to end. Finally, I gave up and headed home at a little before 7.

Tad beat me to the condo. He was already showered, nude and lying on the king--the sun streaming over his tanned, muscled body since he hadn't closed the blinds. A few remaining droplets of water picked up the sun and spashed rainbow colors on the white walls. I walked into the room, unbuttoning my shirt and undoing my tie. I looked into his brilliant blue eyes and whispered, "Honey, I'm home."

He grabbed the ends of the tie and pulled me on top of him. Within seconds, he had me naked. I guess it's something they teach you in prep school. "Paul, can I do you first? I've been hard all day. And lying here thinking about you."

"So have I. But, yes, you can have the first honors. I'm planning to cum with you anyway."

He rolled me on my side and used his talented thighs to nudge my left leg forward. He lubed me and his cock. Then he grabbed my cock with one hand and my abs with the other, pulling me into him. I was almost on top, my back to his chest. Nice hard body. Strong enveloping arms. Talented boy. As he did so, his cock slipped in past the ring and stopped at the base of the love bundle. He thrust up a few times and his stroking resulted in a bottoming. I turned my face to his and he took my mouth in his. His eyes were alive with passion. I only hope mine didn't betray my experiences in Africa. He was taking me the way Ron had.

He bounced a few more times and rolled left, trapping me securely under, his cock fully impaling me. I was full. I was happy. And I felt safe in his arms. This position--with me partially under and him entering from the side, was quickly becoming my favorite--protected, but able to participate. And his cock rested very nicely on the side of my love nut. We paused for a few moments and I could feel his throbbing cock inside. He was truly a great lover. Then, he could feel the beginnings of my spasms which tightened the grip of my anal muscles on his shaft. He speeded up, plunged over and over, punched the prostate again and again. He released--as did I.