Talent Scout
I don't know what possessed me, shy as I am. Maybe it was my wife's incessant bugging that I could do it, maybe an exhibitionistic streak — or maybe something completely different. I honestly don't know. What I do know is that I was scared like never before when I was waiting to audition for the TV program Talent Scout.
I was going to sing. On camera. In front of millions of viewers.
Scary!
Very scary!
I was watching some of the previous contestants before I was on and they were mostly rubbish. I am really trying to be fair here, but honestly, they were no good. The ones just before me, though, were a pair of, hip-looking, black twins, who weren't — rubbish, that is.
I watched them on the monitor backstage:
"What are your names," Lois Scotch, the head judge, asked.
"Djemma and Djorge," they answered. (Some parents are not very considerate when naming their children, are they?)
"How old are you?"
"We are twelve today," Djorge said with youthful confidence.
"Twelve? Amazing! What would you like to perform for us?"
"We would like to perform 'Inner Sanctum'."
"'Inner Sanctum', I don't think I've never heard of that."
"It's our own song," Djorge said.
"Yes, Djorge wrote it," Djemma said.
"I see." Lois looked at the other judges. It was virtually unheard of to have contestants perform their own melodies, but the other judges all nodded back to her, encouraging it. "OK then. Best of luck."
The song was immediately catching and to my surprise, I started to hum along almost from the beginning. The twins had a strong, magnetic presence on the scene and were pitch perfect and danced with microsecond precision. If they were not chosen to go along in the program, there was no justice in the world.
There was justice and when they had finished singing, the judges were giving them a standing ovation.
"You said you wrote that song," Helly Rowsea said. "On your own?"
"Yes," Djorge said with a happy smile. "Apart from some help from Dad ..."
"From your Dad?"
"Yes — he helped me find the MuseScore program so I could write down the score."
"That's truly amazing." Helly looked around. "Are we ready to vote?" The other judges nodded and they all sat down.
"I'm bowled over," Jeremy Brands said. "I have never in my time in Talent Scout experienced anything better. You have my vote."
"Thank you," Djemma said with a both shy and happy smile.
"You are only twelve?" Angie Himne asked. Both twins nodded. "Incredible!" She hesitated slightly before continuing. "We've heard — how many? — a hundred melodies today. All from the top ten of the charts at some time or other. This song beats them all. And so do you. As far as I am concerned, you are in!"
"Thank you," the twins said.
"What can I add?" Helly Rowsea said. "Nothing really. You are nothing less than perfect, so how can I say no? I can't! You're in!"
The twins nodded their thanks.
"Not that you need my vote," Lois Scotch said, "but you're unanimously in." True to herself, she didn't stop at that. "You are the reason for this show. You are smart, talented, beautiful and made a perfect performance. You make this whole show worth the while."
"Thank you. We are happy to be here and look forward to perform for you again."
They were whisked away — and suddenly it was my turn.
"What's you name," Helly Rowsea asked.
"Alan Quarterman," I said with a slightly overdone smile. I was scared shitless.
"Like the guy from King Solomon's mines?" Helly asked.
"Not quite," I said and cringed inside. I had heard that so many times. "His name was Allan (with two ells) Quartermain (with an i), mine is Alan (with one ell) and Quarter
man without an i."
"OK, Alan. How old are you?"
"I am twenty-four."
"And you will perform what song for us?"
"I will perform
Grenade."
"Thank you. Good luck."
"Thank you."
I gave Bruno Mars's song everything I had. I was thinking of my wife, when I sang it. I
would literally take a grenade for her if I had to. I loved her so much. My feelings must have come through to the judges, for once again they were standing, clapping their hands; for me this time. Everything in my mind is a bit of a blur from that point and as much as I remember what was said to the twins verbatim, I cannot remember a word of what the judges said to me. I could have watched the recording of the program and gotten everything that way, but I couldn't face it. One of the problems of being a very shy person.
My wife was waiting backstage and was crying freely when she saw me. "You were great," she said. "The best performance. You're gonna win!"
"Not with the twins in the competition," I said. "They are way better than I."
She hugged me. "Not in
my opinion!"
"Thank you."
We went into a neighbouring room and some of the people from the show explained the procedures that would follow, how we would meet up at a hotel somewhere the following week and go through the initial training and a further selection programme. I didn't hear a word of what was said.
I had gotten through the audition, past the first hurdle!
The following week, I was the last of the contestants to arrive at the hotel, having had some logistical problems of sending my wife off to Somalia for the charity she was working for before getting myself to the hotel.
The lobby was churning with people and Djorge was standing at the counter with his parents, receiving the keycard for his room and some instructions about the amenities of the place. I went to the counter and gave my name, which produced nothing.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Quartermain." It irritated me, but I let the mistake slide. "I'm afraid that it seems that your name is not on the list. No room has been reserved in your name." The clerk looked up without a single sign of remorse or regret. "And I am afraid that we are full up. This Talent Scout business, you see."
"But I am one of the Talent Scout contestants," I protested.
Djorge had heard me and came to my rescue. "He is," he said. "He is one of the best on the show, so you'd better find him a room."
I smiled at him and got a beaming smile back.
The clerk looked ever so slightly concerned now and went through the records in the computer once more. "I've been through our system and there's no Quartermain in it."
"It's not..." I started but was cut short by Djorge.
"His name is Quarter
man, not Quarter
main! Q-u-a-r-t-e-r-m-a-n!" He spelled it out. "No i!"
The clerk knitted his brows. "Q-u-a-r-t-e-r-m-a-n, no i." He looked up and shook his head. "Sorry, sir, you're not in the system and all our rooms are literally taken."
"No worries," Djorge said. "We'll take it up with the people tomorrow. You can sleep in my room tonight." He went over to his parents. "Mum, Dad, Alan is sharing my bed tonight."
(He
did say 'bed' and not 'room'!)
They didn't bat an eye at his declaration and held their hands out for me to shake. "You're another contestant?" they asked.
"I am," I said, shaking their hands. "But I'm sure that Djemma and Djorge will win. I've never heard better." I started to whistle Djorge's melody. "And his song has haunted my brain in the past week. They're good."
His parents smiled. "Thank you. We'll hope for the best." They looked at their son. "Are you alright?" He nodded. "And Djemma?"
"She's already in her room."
"OK then," they said. "We'll be back in a week's time, unless you are booted out before then." They winked.
"Not a chance," I started.
"Just kidding." They gave him a last hug and disappeared in the throng.
"Please can I have an extra keycard for 602?"
"Just a moment ... sir." The clerk did some magic and a machine spat another keycard out, which he gave to Djorge, who duly passed it on to me.
"Let's go upstairs."
To my surprise, he went to the staircase instead of the lift. "We're not going in the lift?" I said.
"Nah, lifts are for sissies," he said with his beautiful smile and started to ascend the stairs.
I was huffing and puffing and wheezing when we at last reached the sixth floor.
"See," he said. "You need to do this some more to get into better shape."
"Yeah," I groaned. "It'll either get me into better shape or into an early grave."
He laughed and opened the door to the room.
It was a huge room. With a big bathroom just inside the door, a huge cupboard, drawers, a table, two armchairs ... and a double bed.
One double bed.
No other places to sleep.
"Wow," Djorge exclaimed and tossed his suitcase into a corner of the room. He plunged himself onto the bed and lay down on his back, bouncing up and down with little moves of his hip. "Come on in," he called.
I was more than a bit exhausted from the stair-climbing exercise and dropped my suitcase on the floor and joined him on the bed. I didn't join in in the bouncing, though and after a short time, the novelty seemed to wear off and Djorge stopped it.
"I'll have a shower, if you don't mind."
"Fine with me," I replied and closed my eyes.
I must have fallen asleep and was awoken by a loud knock on the door.
"I'll get that," Djorge said as I slowly opened my eyes. "It's probably Djemma."
When I managed to open my eyes, I got a shock. He was naked. Butt, stark, birthday-suit naked. And without any compunctions, he opened the door.
It wasn't Djemma.
It was a fairly young girl, a gopher from the producers of the show. She looked at Djorge and her mouth fell open. Literally.
"Yes?" Djorge said as he held the door open for the girl.
"Oh. Ah. I. Well. Oh yes. Er. You're supposed to have dinner with the rest of the contestants at half seven. Is that, er, OK?"
Djorge looked at me and I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks. We'll be there."
"That's alright!" The girl said and seemed to be frozen in place.
"Anything else?" Djorge asked politely when she hadn't moved for a while.
"Er. Ah. No. Er. No. No, there isn't. See you half-seven then."
"See you," Djorge said. He went over and sat next to me on the bed. "I wonder how many people there'll be?"
"I don't know," I said. "It depends on who'll come from the show, I gather."
"Yeah. I'll bet there'll be loads of people."
There was another knock on the door and Djorge was up again like a greased lightning.
"Hi Bro," Djemma said and hugged her brother tightly. "And hi ... Alan, wasn't it?"
"It was," I said and sat up in the bed. She jumped into the bed, crawled over to where I sat and straddled my legs to give me a hug. Her short dress rode up and I realised that she did not wear any knickers. Her black skin was smooth as a lake deep in the woods an early summer's morning. And spotless too. No "weeds" muddling the surface. A hint of the pink depths below. A promise of a sweet swim in the deep waters.
Wow! She was so beautiful, just like her brother, that I became all poetic.
He was like a male deer calf. Big, brown eyes that made your heart swim. Smooth skin, like his sister, with a hint of the strength to come; a thin coat of fine "fur" and more than a hint of manhood. He was amazingly big for his age, actually. Between four and five inches — flaccid. His dick and his scrotum were quite a bit darker than his already very dark chocolate skin.
"You're lucky," Djemma said. "You've got a huge room and a double bed. I've got a much smaller room and a single bed where you feel crowded out, even when you're alone in it."
Djorge threw himself on the bed, right next to Djemma and me. "Yeah, it's a nice and bouncy bed. And a big room."
"You know," Djemma started and slid down to lie next to her brother. "I was told that we were supposed to be down for dinner at half seven — did you hear that?"
"We did," Djorge said.
"... Which reminds me that I too need a shower and a change of clothes," I said and got up. I got some fresh clothes from my suitcase and went into the shower. After a long, hot shower, I dried myself and put the fresh clothes on.
When I opened the door to the bedroom, I got a shock. Djorge was making love to his sister, doggy style! At twelve I hardly knew how to masturbate and knew nothing of intercourse. (But then again, I don't have a beautiful twin sister.)
I couldn't help myself, I just stared at the two. Her big (age taken into consideration) breasts were bouncing with each of his forceful thrusts and her big nipples were really hard.
So was Djorge.
It's difficult to gauge the size of a dick in action, but his seemed to have grown considerably when it got hard. My estimate was more like six or even seven inches. Seven, black, rock-hard inches pounding a willing pussy.
I was hard!
"Come over and let her blow you," Djorge said. "She is wicked at giving head."
I was dithering. What should I do? On one hand, the sight of the two was the sexiest I had ever beheld, but on the other I was more than just aware of the illegality of the whole procedure. And the amount of years I could spend being afraid of bending over to pick up the soap, if I in any way got directly involved. Had a Big British Bobby entered the suite then and there, I might have been in trouble for just being in the room I realised.
"And you can fuck her after me, if you want to. Or bugger her tight arse if that's more to your taste."
My wife had never let me do her bum and here this twelve-year-old boy was offering his sister's arse to me, a complete stranger, more or less. And how on Earth did they know about such things?
Twelve, I say.
Twelve!
"Better hurry," he gasped. "I'm nearly there."
In the end, lust won. I quickly stripped and positioned myself in front of this exquisite specimen of youth, ten hard inches twitching in front of her big, black eyes.
"That's a beauty," Djemma said. "A
big beauty!" She opened her mouth and let her tongue caress the head of my erection.
I groaned.
Her lips closed over the head and as she slowly took me deeper and deeper, her tongue sought out all the right nerves along the way, leaving me panting for air despite my not doing any work at all.
Djorge had grasped her nice breasts and he used them to pull himself in forcefully with every thrust, slamming her bum hard with his pelvis.
"I'm cumming," he declared and began to pump his white, incestuous juice into her wet cave.
Djemma came too and her eyes glazed over just as my erection slid down her oesophagus. When Djorge withdrew from his sister, still shooting, the sight of the forceful spurts shooting out through the little, black eye at the end of his dark dick did me in. I began to pump loads of hot sperm directly down her soft gullet, belying the fact that I had filled my wife twice in the airport.
I know it's a slight abuse of the disabled facilities, but she was going to Somalia for almost a year, so we wanted to make the best of the last possibility. After the first session, I realised that I needed some pictures of her too — something to fap to, to be honest — and we persuaded her colleague, Bartholomew, a big, black guy from one of the Windward Islands, to take the pictures. He did a great job and after I had finished pumping my wife full of sperm, she said thank you to Bartholomew by letting him make love to her with his stupendously thick twelve-incher. By thick I mean
thick. Ten inches around, if not more. I manned the camera while that happened and got some beautiful pictures of my wife's grotesquely dilated pussy being filled with Bartholomew's thick cum.
Djorge's still-hard dick was dribbling white sperm as he moved around to her head. When I withdrew, Djemma slid sideways and lay on top of the bed with a contented Cheshire-cat smile on her face. Djorge quickly repositioned himself with his dick at her mouth and his head at her dripping crotch. I moved around and realised I too was hard still. A bit of a feat, I thought, I wasn't a young boy with raging hormones after all. I lined up with her inviting wet pussy, but just as I started to thrust, Djorge grabbed it and directed it to her bum. "Try that instead," he said. "It's nice and tight. And it helps if you grease it up too." Magically he had a tube of gel in his hand and without asking, he squirted a big gob on her sphincter and then placed a big dollop on my dick. He ran his young hand up and down the length of my dick to spread the gel and then pressed my erection against her bum.
Much to my surprise (being a bit of a virgin in this area), Djemma's sphincter dilated with such ease I wondered if it was something you could train or if you were born with such ability. I was certain that my bum would complain painfully at such violation. I didn't think much more about it but concentrated instead on the exquisite feeling of her pliant ring squeezing my erection with this firm, tight, accommodating feeling that was so different from a pussy's more — dare I say? — sloppy grip. While I furiously pumped her anus, the two were exchanging favours in the form of a noisy sixty-nine. Not that I complained. I was pretty noisy too, moaning and groaning, not the least, to my great surprise, when Djorge's tongue occasionally ran along my hot rod.
I could feel my erection getting even harder and my scrotum contracting in the drawn-out rise towards the inevitable climax. I hugged Djemma and caressed her firm breasts, marvelling at the contrast between my tanned hands and Djemma's black breasts. I have always found the diversity of this world fascinating. It was strange how my brain on one hand could think about the wonders of nature while at the same time be filled to the brim with the sensations of my hard-on in Djemma's anus. It didn't last long, though, before the sensations won. With a deep roar, I started to fill the little girl's bowels, just as Djorge began to fill her gullet. At the deluge from her two lovers, Djemma came hard too and I could literally feel her sphincter contract and relax around my dick in time to her orgasmic shockwaves.
I looked at the clock on the sidetable and realised that it had just passed seven thirty — we should have been at the dinner already. "Hey guys," I gasped. "We're due at the dinner. We'd better get a move on."
"Oh wow!" Djemma smiled. "That was great!" She sat up and gave my dwindling dick a big kiss. "Let's get dressed then." She quickly got out of the bed and slid the dress over her head. "I'm ready."
I couldn't help myself, I stared. I knew she didn't wear knickers nor bra and I realised that the dress was sufficiently sheer that I could see her breasts with their big, poking nipples through it. And in the right light, I could glimpse the outline of her hairless slit.
What a sight!
Djorge found a sheer silk shirt and a pair of soft slacks that showed the outline of his dick. I chose a tight T-shirt that showed off my six-pack and a pair of leather trousers that could not quite hide the length and girth of my dick. Thus dressed, we went down to an uneventful dinner.
"I'm tired," Djemma declared when dinner was finished. "If you don't mind, I'll go to my room and have a sleep."
"Of course," I said and gave her a hot kiss. "It's been lovely meeting you."
"You too," Djemma said and returned the kiss.
"Good night, Sis," Djorge said and hugged his sister. "I love you." They kissed and Djemma went off to her room.
I yawned. "I'm actually rather tired myself," I said. "What do you say? Back to the room."
"Yeah. I could do with some serious shuteye too. Let's pack it."
So we went back to our room, leaving the rest of the people to enjoy the entertainment the production company had provided for the evening.
"What a day," Djorge said in the lift. "We haven't started the rehearsals yet and I'm exhausted." He grinned. "How will it be, when we actually have to work?"
"Yeah," I said. "But let see. Tomorrow looms close."
In our room, Djorge undressed and went naked into the bathroom to do his night preparations: wee, shower and brushing of teeth. I was debating with myself whether to keep my underpants on or not, when I realised that it would be a bit odd to stay clothed after what we had already been through together, so in the end I undressed just like the boy.
"The bathroom is free," Djorge declared as he strolled into the bedroom, smelling nicely of his Hugo Boss deodorant. "See you soon." He dropped on top of the bed and closed his eyes.
I went into the toilet and had my shower and my wee before brushing my teeth. Soft and shiny, I returned to the bedroom and found that Djorge had fallen asleep and seemed to have sweet dreams. He was hard. His erection twitched occasionally and I could hardly tear my eyes away from the black beauty of it, but eventually I lay down next to him and turned off the lights, to go to sleep.
It worked.
I woke up in the middle of the night and realised that I was spooning Djorge with a serious erection lodged in his butt-crack.
"Mmm," Djorge mumbled in his sleep and ran a hand down the length of my body.
I didn't know what to do so I just left it where it was for the time being.
Djorge mumbled "Mmmm" again, but this time he seemed to have woken up slightly and his hand slid down to my erection and held it. "Uhu," he muttered as I felt his cool hand around my burning erection, and I heard his other hand roam around on the bedside table and suddenly I felt something cold drip onto my dick.
"Oy!" I cried.
"Sh," Djorge whispered and spread the gel on my dick. "I'm just greasing you up a bit." He repositioned himself slightly and then I realised why he had applied the grease.
He pressed my hard-on into his sphincter!
I suddenly had my ten inches buried in a boy's bum.
A boy!
Twelve-year-old
boy!
This was my first gay experience ... and somewhat to my surprise: I liked it!
Why anybody would call this disgusting is beyond me.
I slid my arm over his hips and started to pull on his black arrow just as he turned his face towards me to kiss.
We kissed and we made love — and we were in the seventh heaven.
It felt absolutely great to have his undulating body next to me and even greater to be kissed by this talented, young boy. But the best was the tight embrace of his hot bowels.
Moaning and groaning and kissing, we came together.
I creamed his innards royally while he tried his best to cover the quilt with his sperm.
It took us quite a while to get our racing hearts quietened enough to talk. I had an arm around his neck and he was resting his head on my chest, looking at me with his mild, brown eyes, softly caressing my chest, twirling his fingers around my nipple.
"You know, Alan, that was great!" He kissed my chest just over the heart. "I love your big dick in my bum." He moved his head down and kissed my half-hard dick, his tongue swirling around it, licking away the remainders of my sperm. I could feel the blood rush back to it and in no time I was hard again. He lifted his head and smiled at me. "Oh, oh, oh! What
have I done?" With gusto he applied himself to the fellatio to my absolute satisfaction. I indicated for him to turn around so I could reciprocate, which he readily did and suddenly I had a hard little black dick in my mouth. I was a bit surprised how big it felt in my mouth and had to take it easy as I was gagging a few times. Djorge had no such problem and easily took the full length of my ten inches. I could feel his breathing become faster and before I knew what had happened, I felt his strong heart racing and he was drowning me with cascades of hot cum, filling my mouth beyond capacity. I tried my absolute best to drink it all but it was just too much and in the end I had to let him out, having my face covered by the forceful jets. Despite his erratically moving body and the forceful orgasm, he unwaveringly kept blowing me skilfully.
And — oh the bliss of youth! — his erection only wavered for a few short seconds before getting back to full strength. Without missing a beat on my dick, Djorge pressed his black mamba back into my mouth and started to hump it vigorously. I had this strange experience that my gag reflex grew weaker and weaker and weaker as he went on and in the end I was able to take every single of his seven inches, which made me fell like a sword swallower — his dickhead was actually going partway down my oesophagus!
Djorge, on the other hand, had easily taken my dick and I had a suspicion that it was not the first time
he had had a big dick in his mouth. He moved his head up and down on my erection, which was becoming more and more sensitive, and with a grunt I started to unload in his mouth, pouring my hot juices down his gullet. He came at the same time and jammed his pelvis against my nose, forcing me to take every drop of his juices. Amazingly, I could! It was probably because his dick was lodged in my throat and was sending the load more or less directly down it.
After a while my shots became rather feeble and Djorge let me out and just licked the slow dribble from the end. I did the same to his and wondered about the amazing adaptability of the human body — especially when it came to sex. How every orifice could be exploited and still provide so much pleasure.
Djorge sighed deeply and turned around, facing me. "That was awesome!" he exclaimed and gave me a kiss. "It was so ..." He searched for the expression. "... so sexy and lovely. I hadn't expected you to take all of my dick, but you did!" He gave my dick a loving squeeze. "And this beauty filled me so pleasantly. This must be heaven." He lay back and just looked at me with his doe's eyes. And I looked back at him.
How could I not?
He was so handsome — nay,
beautiful! Clearly on the cusp between childhood and manhood. But still, not a single blemish could I find. His skin was so smooth it defied nature. At twelve I had broken out in a severe case of acne just like most of my classmates. I had acne, spots, birthmarks and what not. Not so with Djorge. He looked perfectly symmetrical too. Long limbs. Strong feet with perfectly straight toes. well-defined yet still clearly masculine. A flat tummy with a shallow innie. Well-developed muscles: Strong pectorals and biceps. Beautiful hands with long, straight fingers.
But his face!
That face!
An angel's!
His face was open with big, brown eyes set exactly the right distance apart, curved eyebrows, long eyelashes, wide nose with a hint of a point to it, wide mouth with shaped lips and endearing dimples. His mouth gave a hint of a smile, even when he was relaxing, which was quite the opposite of mine. Mine seemed to droop slightly at the edges if I relaxed and that gave people the impression that I was sad despite me almost always being in a good and positive mood. Djorge's black hair was in long dreadlocks that literally reached his bum.
We must have fallen asleep as I don't remember anything until I woke up with Djorge's leg across my hip and his erection lodged under mine.
I looked at the clock. It was almost ten and we were supposed to start at half ten.
"Wake up, Sleepyhead!" I said and gave Djorge a kiss on his forehead.
He opened his eyes and smiled sleepily when he saw me. He gave me a leisurely kiss on the lips. "Good morning Loverboy," he said. "Nice to see you."
"To see you, nice," I said back, stealing a line from Sir Bruce Forsyth.
Djorge caressed my back and gave my bum a nice squeeze before stretching out. "Need any help with that?" he asked as he touched my hard-on lightly.
"Do we have time?" I moaned.
He yawned and looked at the clock. "Plenty." He folded his fingers around my erection and started to kiss me deeply. I reciprocated, masturbating him as well as kissing him back. I couldn't remember when last somebody else had masturbated me. My wife usually didn't as she preferred to give me blowjobs or have "proper" sex. It felt a bit awkward at first as we had to lie with our heads together to better kiss and the bodies slightly apart to make room for our arms, but we managed.
It didn't take long for us and when he came and sent big spurts of white sperm high into the air, he bit down on my tongue. Not excessively hard, but hard enough to hurt in a stimulating way making me come too. I shot high into the air and since my dick was pointing slightly in the direction of Djorge, most of my sperm landed squarely on his tight tummy, leaving a nice puddle in his belly button.
It was now ten past ten.
"It's late," I groaned. "We can't have a shower and manage to eat too."
"That's OK," he said and started to lick my dick and my tummy clean. "You're fine now," he proclaimed after a short while.
I quickly manoeuvred myself into position and without any compunctions, I did the same to him. In less than five minutes we were dressed, after a fashion, and on our way down the stairs to the restaurant. We wolfed down an English breakfast and managed to get into the first meeting only two minutes late, plumping down next to Djemma, who had reserved two seats for us.
"Naughty you," she whispered and twitched her nose. "You smell of sex."
After the initial presentation, I didn't see the twins until dinnertime as we were split up in groups and assigned to different judges.
I sat at the table when the twins came into the restaurant holding hands and looking quite happy. They saw me and sat down at my table, one on each side of me.
"Hiya my Beauties," I said and gave each a kiss on the lips.
"Hi, Alan," they said.
"I felt so wicked," I said. "I smelt like a whorehouse, I felt it and I'm sure that some of the other people could smell it too."
"Ooh, yeah," Djemma said. "Djorge smelt so much of sex that I told the people that we needed the powder room and dragged him up to my room for a quickie."
"Um," Djorge hummed.
"And he kept telling me how good it was with you during the night." She leaned closer and whispered, "I think he's in love with you."
"But ..." I spluttered and stopped.
I realised that despite loving my wife more than anything in the world, I still felt my heart galloping like mad when I set eyes on the twins. In some odd way, I was in love with them ... or should I say that I was infatuated? I don't know.
Djemma continued, "I know that I am."
"Er, what?" I said, my mind being a bit cluttered with the assault of strange thoughts running through it.
"I know that I'm in love with you!" Her hand had slipped onto my thigh and slid slowly towards my groin.
"Oh!" What could I say.
"And did
you ask anybody for a new room?" Djorge said with a wicked grin, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze.
I slapped my other hand against my forehead. I had totally forgotten.
"I thought so," he said. "And I didn't either."
"Freudian slip or some such," I muttered.
"Froy what?" Djemma asked.
"Sometimes you say something different from what you wanted to say, and this something seems to reflect what is
really on your mind. That's a Freudian slip. In this case, Djorge and I
forgot to ask somebody for a new room because we both
wanted to stay together, deep down."
"Really?"
"Really!"
"I see."
I shook my head. "This is very strange. A bit bizarre, really." I looked up and into the eyes of a waiter, who apparently had tried to get our attention for some time. I laughed. "Sorry, we haven't even opened the menus yet. Please come back in a few minutes."
"Very well," he said and left the table.
We scrambled to pick up the menus and look through them. I had chosen mine and looked at the twins, saying, "I'd like ..."
"... a fillet ..." Djorge continued.
"... steak." Djemma finished.
We laughed.
When the waiter came back, we ordered our food and ate in high spirits, looking forward to the evening. The evening together.
"They've got last years winners coming over to entertain tonight," Djemma said without enthusiasm.
"I know," I said. "I've never taken much to boy bands — and they're not
that good."
"I totally agree," Djorge added. "So let's split after dessert."
"OK," I said and wiped my mouth after a delicious dinner.
We had spotted dick for dessert and Djemma grinned, "It's not called after yours." She pointed to Djorge's crotch and squeezed my dick through my trousers. "They're absolutely spotless."
"Thank you," we said and guffawed.
Djemma knit her brow. "Yeah, I know. A bit lame and tame. I just couldn't help myself."
I hugged and kissed her. "No, it's fine. There's room for that too."
"Yeah, no worries." Djorge blew her a kiss.
Djorge leaned into me and rested his head on my chest. "I feel so content with you." He seemed to search for words. "It's like ... like you make me ... complete. Like ... like ... like I've been missing part of myself. Like ... Argh! ... Like my world has grown to more than twice the size it was." He shook his head in exasperation over his lacking ability to express himself and yet, I was impressed.
I patted his head and kissed it. "But Djorge," I said. "You seem to express this really well. It's not easy to say and you're getting it across all the same. I'm impressed. Really."
Djemma leaned over too and suddenly I was pinned to my seat by my two beautiful, young lovers.
We went up to our room and Djemma stayed for the most memorable night in my life. I was totally shattered in the morning after servicing and being serviced by two inexhaustible, underage sex-maniacs, who were now sleeping the sleep of the innocent.
I looked at their flawless, naked bodies in all their black beauty and my heart soared. I knew it would come to an end after the week, but I could not help feel it should last. It was wrong. It was right! It was ... damn society and its social mores ... mutual love and how can that be wrong?
And the week passed all too quickly and not until the last day did we talk about the future. we were sitting naked on our bed after an intense session of love-making. Everything was packed into the suitcases and we were ready to leave.
"We haven't even asked you where you live," Djemma said.
"I live with my wife in Frankford, down south."
"Hey," Djorge exclaimed. "We live in Hardenen just outside Frankford. We go to the Morgan Knatcalf grammar school."
"What a coincidence," I say. "That school is just around the corner from where I live." I smiled conspiratorially. "And guess what?"
"What?"
"I've just been hired as a math, science and ICT teacher at the school."
"Oh, wow!"
We talked some more about the coincidence and how we would be able to meet again, something I had not expected at all.
"Alright, My Darling Lovers, let's get decent and split before it's too late."
We quickly got dressed, after a fashion, the twins more skimpily than me and went down to the lobby, where the twins' parents were waiting. As the twins said hello to them, I checked us out and waited with a heavy heart to say goodbye to my little lovers.
"Hello again," their dad said and held his hand out. "I'm James, by the way."
"Hello James," I said and shook his hand.
"Catharine," their mum said and gave me a big hug. "Thanks for taking good care of the two."
'If only you knew what type of care I took,' I thought. 'Maybe you wouldn't be so friendly.'
"Thank you," I said out loud. "They are
so sweet and lovely. I couldn't have wished for better company." I tousled their hair and hugged them to my sides.
"The twins said you were living in Frankford, how are you getting back home?" James asked.
"By bus and train," I said.
"Oh no, you're not," Catharine stated. "You're coming with us!" Her tone of voice did not invite any discussion. "You'll have dinner with us, that's for sure."
"If you're really sure."
"Absolutely," James said. "Follow us."
I followed them out of the hotel and right outside the door was their silver Lexus parked. We quickly put our suitcases in the boot and entered the car.
"You sit in the middle," Djorge said.
"OK," I replied and belted in.
After an uneventful four-hour drive, we came to Hardenen. Hardenen is a very small, picturesque village in the countryside. Time seemed to have been standing still there and it felt almost Victorian with two, small shops and a posh hotel in an old Tudor-style building. We turned up a road with a sign saying "Craft Manor 2" and as we drove up the road, I could see a huge manor house on a hilltop. Craft Manor. Their house!
To say I was flabbergasted was a serious understatement. I could not take my eyes away from the house. the walls were covered in some sort of ivy, making the house feel even more imposing.
The front door was opened by a young girl in a maid's uniform and she rushed out to hold the car door for Catharine. "Welcome home, Ma'am."
"Thank you, Irene. Could you please tell Hector that we will have a guest for dinner."
"Yes, Ma'am." The maid scooted back towards the house.
"And oh, Irene!"
The maid stopped and turned around. "Could you please let Mr. Quarterman have the Blue room."
"Of course, Ma'am."
I was impressed. I had never thought that people could afford servants anymore. And still...
Catharine, James and the twins seemed completely unaware of my awe and chatted on like this was nothing special. It probably wasn't to them, but to me ... Wow!
Djemma came to my side and took my hand in hers. "The Blue room is right next to our room," she said. "And it even has a connecting trapdoor."
"I see," I said and went towards the back of the car to pick up my suitcase.
When Djemma realised what I was about to do, she stopped me. "That's not necessary, Alan, Justin will get our suitcases and bring them to our rooms."
"Yeah," Djorge said and took my other hand. "Let's show you the house."
They walked me round the house and I was extremely impressed. It had all the rooms I had heard of in Agatha Christie novels: Hall, reception room, drawing room, library, dining room, banquet hall ... you name it, and they probably had it. The first floor had two sections, one with the parents' bedroom and a number of guest rooms, the other with the children's room, a play room with all the major games consoles and some themed guest rooms, of which mine was the Blue room, adjoining the children's bedroom.
When we entered my room, my suitcase had been brought up and emptied into the cupboard. Djorge went over to the wall and pulled the middle candleholder of a candelabra on the wall and the he pushed the side of a panel that opened into the neighbouring room.
"Impressive!" I said and looked into their room. It was big with a king size bed, an oversize oak wardrobe, two heavy chairs and a couple of working desks with computers. The chairs in front of the computer desk were a steampunk version of modern office chairs to fit in with the decor.
While I looked around, the twins had undressed and were rummaging in the wardrobe, looking for a change of clothes. As they found the clothes, they lined them up on the bed, ready to wear.
"Come on, Alan, we're having a shower."
I pointed at myself and lifted an eyebrow.
"Yes, you too." Djorge came over and started to unbutton my shirt with nimble, black fingers. "Quick, dinner is at six sharp!"
"I ... OK," I said and dropped my trousers. I didn't wear any underpants, so when Djorge had finished unbuttoning my shirt, I let it fall to the floor and went with the twins to the bathroom, which was across the corridor. I was hard — actually I had been hard since the twins had undressed, but there was no hiding it now, not that I felt like hiding it, especially not seeing how Djorge's seven inches were as hard as my ten. And Djemma was wet. Not just wet, but actually sopping wet, small droplets running slowly down her inner thighs.
The bathroom was, like everything else in the house, huge. It was made from pink marble with gold taps and fittings. Even the showerhead was gold! Djorge fiddled with the handles and the shower sent out a strong stream of steaming water. We huddled together under the shower and like it was a customary ritual, Djemma bent over and Djorge entered her easily.
"Here," he said to me and handed me a tube of gel. "Take me, please." His hips were already moving against his sister and it was with some difficulty I managed to grease his bum.
I greased my own erection and stopped him for the two seconds it took me to bury myself in his bum. I sighed contentedly and alternated between kissing one and the other of the two. I hardly had to do any work, as Djorge's moves did it all.
We were very close to our climaxes when the bathroom door opened and I froze as Catharine entered. Despite seeing me buggering her son, she kept smiling. "Dinner in fifteen minutes," she said. I realised she was only wearing a white silk dressing gown and that it wasn't closed! She had enormous breasts that reached almost down to her belly button. Her nipples were huge and her oval aureoles as big as one of my hands. Her pussy was open and looked quite inviting with a big, partially hooded clitoris.
I came.
Looking at Catharine, I creamed Djorge's bum in front of his mother.
And Djorge came too, which cascaded down to Djemma, who shuddered and sputtered as her head moved under the showerhead.
"He looks big," Catharine said.
"Yeah," Djorge said. "He's bigger than Dad. He's a bit longer but much thicker." He kissed my frozen lips. "And he's so lovely."
"Good," Catharine said and winked to me. "So see you in ten minutes then." She left.
I collapsed on the floor of the shower stall gasping, "Your ... your mum didn't say anything. She ... she seemed to ... to, sort of, accept it."
"Yeah, she's good," Djemma said. "She never complains about anything as long as we behave."
"You ... I ... behave ...?!?" The word "behave" must have a different meaning in this household from most other places. Where I come from, behave did not include having sex in the bathroom and being found out by my parents.
"Better be quick," the twins said and washed me all over with a zeal that left my skin slightly pink and tingling. They had a well-rehearsed routine for washing each other simultaneously and with seconds to spare we all entered the dining room, clean and clothed.
It felt unreal to sit down at the big dining table and be waited on. Irene and Hector served the food and we just had to eat and chat. Unreal is probably a gross understatement. This time I sat next to Catharine with Djorge and Djemma on the other side of the table and James at the end of the table. The master of the household, only he didn't behave like it. He was charming, knowledgeable and absolutely not demanding of the help, who seemed quite happy in the household.
"Tell Janine that she outdid herself," James said to Hector. "Again!"
"I will tell her, Sir."
We had had a Caribbean meal starting with curried crab, then jerk chicken with plantain, callaloo and sweet potatoes followed by a sweet jelly with mangoes, papaya and pomegranate. I had never had anything like this in my life.
"James. Catharine. That was a most delicious meal. I absolutely loved it."
"Don't tell us, tell Janine," James said with a mischievous grin. "She's in the kitchen."
"I will," I said. "I certainly will."
"Yeah," Djorge said and got up. "Let's say thank you to Janine."
"Don't make it too long," Catharine said with a wink I didn't understand. "She's promised to bake a cake for evening tea."
Djemma followed us to the kitchen and when I opened the door I got a surprise. Janine was a young, petite black, very feminine girl, about my age. Or should I say ladyboy? Transgender? And the apron she wore did not hide the fact that she had a ten plus inch dick. Especially not since she didn't wear anything but the apron. And it was short. The apron.
Djorge looked at my gaping mouth with a crooked grin. "She's a beauty, isn't she?" He went over to the ... girl? and gave her a hug and a big kiss. "You outdid yourself again, Janine. You're the best."
"Thank you," she said with a Caribbean lilt to it.
With the blunt directness of childhood Djemma said, "Show him your 'secret'. I don't think he has seen one before."
Janine gave Djemma a loving smile, accepting the younger girl's youthful directness. She removed the apron and I could appreciate her beauty fully. The big breasts, her wide, motherly hips, and her long, thick, fatherly penis, which she, with a flourish, lifted to reveal a ... vagina! I was stunned.
Djorge laughed at me. "She's a hermaphrodite, Alan. A real, genuine one. She's got a pussy and a dick —
and balls too. She's got more sperm than a bull in heat." The twins were undressing as he said this and Janine's dick was steadfastly growing and was soon twitching at full mast, with a cute downward curve to it.
"Look!" Djorge exclaimed as Djemma leaned over the kitchen counter. Janine put some olive oil on Djemma's tight bum and on her own erection. She easily penetrated Djemma and was slowly making love to her when Djorge positioned himself between their legs and bent slightly backwards. Somehow his dick found its way into Janine�s wet pussy. "Look closer. Down there," he said and pointed between his legs. "See what's going on?"
I looked closer and saw that Djorge changed hole with each of Janine's thrusts. One thrust in Janine then a thrust inside Djemma and back again to Janine. Definitely not a position in the Kama Sutra.
"Oh fuck you, Djemma. I love your baby arse." Janine worked hard and held on to Djemma for dear life, sweating freely in the hot air of the kitchen. "You and Djorge have the best arses ever!"
The door opened and Hector and Irene came in with a load of dirty plates and cutlery. I began to realise that Janine and the children having sex in the kitchen was not an exceptional event by the reaction of the other two. They didn't bat an eye at the scenery. They just put the plates down and returned to the dining room to finish clearing the table.
"And I love your shemale dick in my bum. It's almost as good as Alan's."
"Almost?" Janine said.
"Yeah. We're in love with him, you see."
"Oh." She gasped. "Oh fuck, don't do that again or I'll shoot my load."
"This?" Djemma asked as Janine spluttered and moaned and gasped.
"For God's sake, child, you're the best fuck-machine in the world. I don't know how you do it, but by God, you're born to fuck."
"Oh yes," Djorge groaned. "She's the best. Arrrrrgggggghhhhh!" He slammed his pelvis hard against the two as he unloaded his thick sperm. I couldn't see in whose pussy, but it was so overwhelming that I came in my trousers without touching myself. I hadn't done that ever before, apart from my first wet dreams when I was eleven.
"That was hot," I said and looked at the wet spot on my trousers. "Are you people having sex all the time?"
Djorge and Djemma phawed. "Of course. Why wouldn't we? It's much too nice to ignore." He gave Janine a loving pat on her bum, picked up his clothes and walked towards the door.
"It's one of the reasons I love it here," Janine said looking at me. "I have an education as a chef and a masters in chemistry, but where else on this world could I get a job that gave me as much pleasure as this? Nowhere, I tell you!"
"I didn't know," I said. "It's a bit overwhelming for an ordinary guy like me."
"Ordinary," Janine guffawed. "I don't think so!" She shook her head vigorously. "The way you have accepted this household tells me that you're no ordinary guy. You didn't even lift an eyebrow when you realised I was a hermaphrodite. You actually got quite hot from seeing us fuck and came in your pants." She hugged me and gave me a hot kiss. "That was just
so sweet. I hope we'll see more of you."
I took this as a dismissal and followed Djorge and Djemma out of the kitchen, just as Irene and Hector came back in. I haven't described the maid and the "butler", but they were rather young. I would guess Irene to be around 16 and Hector in his mid twenties, i.e. around my age. Irene was heavy-set with delicate features where the face did not give her true size away. She was a redhead with piercing green eyes and an even scatter of freckles that suited her really well. Her breasts were not particularly large, not that I've ever been fixated on breast size, and she had wide hips, though not in Janine's mother Earth class. Hector, on the other hand, was a delicately built man with a boyish face and a roguish twinkle in his eyes as if he was forever on the brink of pulling a prank. He was tall and slim, almost seven feet, I'd guess, and he carried himself with a poise that seemed to indicate an upbringing in a posh environment. (His father was actually an English lord, I later learned. He too — Hector, that is — had chosen the job in this family for the "benefits" and not the position.)
"You finished having fun?" Hector asked Janine with a smile. "You'd better get that cake finished as they're having their tea early tonight. Something about a hard time for the twins."
"I am," Janine replied. "And you'd better look forward to the night. I don't think it'll be a quiet night."
"Goody," Hector said.
"And the cake is almost finished. I just need the cream and caramelize the pastry balls."
I didn't hear any more as the door closed shut. I quickly changed my trousers and peeked into the twins' room to see if they were there but they had apparently gone directly back to the dining room so I went back down there and found them in there telling their parent about my reaction in the kitchen. I must admit that I blushed.
James came over to me and put an arm around my shoulder. "Nice to have a proper, red-blooded man in the house," he said. "One that's not afraid of showing people what he likes."
"Not by choice, I must admit," I croaked.
James chuckled. His voice was deep and sonorous like James Earl Jones's. (The actor that voiced Darth Vader, if the name doesn't ring a bell.) "No, probably not, but your hormones work nicely, that's good." He looked at his wife, who nodded solemnly. "We appreciate that in this house."
I had a feeling there was another message hidden in this statement, but any further thoughts along that line were cut short by the twins, who had dressed again, if you can call wearing a T-shirt for dressed.
"Janine says that she is going to serve something called a Sports Cake tonight. Anybody know what that is?"
"Can't be," I mumbled.
"Can't be what?" Catharine asked.
"Well, last I was in Copenhagen, when my wife had to go there to a conference for the charity she works for ..."
"Yes?" James said.
"Jørgen, our Danish contact, took us to this small
pâtisserie or confectionary in Copenhagen. La Glace it was called. You could get all sorts of cakes there and coffee, tea and hot chocolate, all at a horrendous price. They had a really nice cake called Sportskage, which apparently translates into Sports Cake."
"What is it?" Djorge asked impatiently.
"It is basically hard whipped cream on a macaroon base."
"What?" Catharine exclaimed. "Just macaroon and whipped cream?"
"Not quite," I responded. "I just tried to give the gist of it, but if you want the full version (and no, it's not quite the recipe) ..."
"Yes, please."
"Right. A round macaroon base about ten inches diameter and a quarter of an inch thick, made from almond flour, sugar and egg whites."
"Um, we like almonds," Djemma said and licked her lips.
"Mix hard whipped cream with small, crunched pieces of hard nougat put the cream/nougat mix on top of the macaroon base to about four inches. Cover with half an inch of plain whipped cream. Place a number of puffs of cream around the base. Make some choux pastry balls (like profiteroles, just not filled or covered in chocolate). Caramelize half of each pastry ball and place it on top of the cream puffs, caramelized side out and
voilà, you've got a Sportskage."
"That sounds like something deliciously sinister," James said with a chuckle. "Just the thing that Janine would do for the homecoming of the wayward twins." He went over to the twins and gave them a heart-warming hug.
Just then Hector entered and proclaimed, "Tea in the lounge."
We quickly scuttled into the lounge and spread out in the chairs and sofas. I was almost lost in an easy chair which was so wide that I didn't fell totally squeezed in when Djorge sat next to me. His T-shirt rode high, giving everyone a nice view of his "crown jewels". (Definitely not "junk", they were much too beautiful for that moniker.)
Hector came around and asked us what we would like. I had a cup of hot chocolate and a slice of Sportskage, which
was a really good copy of the one from Copenhagen. Virtually indistinguishable from the original. I'd definitely have to ask Janine about this.
We had our evening "tea" and our cakes and chatted amiably like old friends. That Djemma, Djorge and I could chat was already established from our week together, but their parents were extremely knowledgeable and pleasant too. And they were as well versed in things that mattered to teenagers as in other matters. Not a dull moment, but plenty of pauses for reflection. Something I often miss when visiting people. You visit somebody and if there's more than a fraction of a second's silence, somebody has to say something. Not me!
After two slices of Sportskage (believe me, that
is something of a feat with the size of the slices) and a couple of cups of hot chocolate, Djemma, Djorge and I were excused and left for a good night's sleep. I went up to my room and no more than laid myself down before a pair of naked twins descended on my bed. It was a single bed, but who cared when in good company? Not I! Apart from the somewhat crowded state of the bed, the night was actually uneventful. No hanky panky. No excessive fondling. No sex. But a pleasant experience all the same.
I had expected to leave the house the following morning, but everyone as one had pleaded for me to stay at least one more day and since I didn't have any specific plans, I had accepted.
I went for a walk with the twins and had delightful sex with them on the lawn behind the house. I sort of learned to play tennis and found the secret chamber at the centre of the huge maze they had. It was a carefree environment and I managed to forget almost all the anxiety I had amassed during the first week of Talent Scout. And with my wife in Somalia, I was my own boss for the time being.
We made love that day.
Every two hours on average from nine to nine. On the lawn, as I said, in my bed, in their bed, in the kitchen (that Janine had special powers that exceeded Djemma's, I tell you) and in the swimming pool. If you have never had sex in a swimming pool, it is an experience well worth it. It is not the easiest of intimate manoeuvres but done well it's worth the hassle.
That night I was invited to Djorge's and Djemma's bed and I had hardly more than put head to pillow before I fell asleep. Not the most polite thing to do when you're in the company of two naked, sexy people, but the exhaustion from the day's sexual activity had taken its toll. The incessant use of stairs instead of lift at the hotel had actually given me more stamina, but there was still a long way to go before I could be called properly fit. At least properly fit to have six orgasms in a day and still be up for night activities.
At some point I was partly roused by some activity in the bed and heard a whisper, "Sorry, couldn't sleep." One of the twins having a wee, I thought as I felt one crawling back into bed, resting next to my head. Djorge from the feel of the hot dick touching my cheek.
I fell asleep again.
I was roused once more by somebody crawling back into bed, once again whispering, "Couldn't sleep." I was on my back with my head turned and as my lips were touching a nice erection, it must be Djemma this time. Half asleep, I opened my mouth and took the dick in my mouth. In the foggy depth of my sleepy brain, I thought Djorge's dick had grown longer, but the thought was soon quenched by a hot pussy enveloping my erection. I was in a blissful state between dreaming and being awake where I just enjoyed giving a slow blow-job and having a girl ride me. She came and I could feel the juices pour out of her, but she kept going, bending down to let me feel her huge breasts caress my chest.
Then I felt something else.
She had slowed to almost a stop when suddenly it became crowded.
Something seemed to press on my dick inside her.
Somebody was entering her bum!
I realised that what I had registered maybe wasn't Djorge and Djemma coming back from the toilet. I opened my eyes, fully alert in the limited light of the room, and looked, not into Djorge's lithe body, but James's bigger frame. I was giving their dad a blow-job and it was Catharine riding me, not Djemma. And Djorge, beautiful, naughty Djorge, was buggering his mum.
I should have guessed much earlier that the twins obviously had to have their experience from somewhere and that that somewhere probably would be their parents, but sometimes you're only so smart.
I took it all in my stride and relished the experience.
Shortly after, I heard James groan and his dick began to thrust against my mouth. When I looked over, I saw somebody was pumping his bum with forceful thrusts. I followed the body upwards to the Cheshire grin face of ... Djemma. I must have looked shocked and surprised for she laughed and whispered, "Strap-on."
It took me a few seconds to realise what she meant. I had hardly ever heard about a strap-on and much less seen one. And here this pre-teen girl was treating her dad with one!
Whoa!
The sensation was too much for James and with a growl of satisfaction, he pumped me full of sperm. I tried my best to drink it all, but it was too much and I had to let him out to get some air. Seeing his dad spray me triggered Djorge and with a, "Gosh, Mummy, you've got the best bum in the world," he came inside her.
Being so totally strung up on the whole scene, I couldn't keep myself any longer and gave it all to Catharine. I sent billions of little racers into her. She too came. Together we hammered into cloud nine and I came so hard it almost hurt. My muscles just kept contracting long after I had emptied the last drop of sperm inside her, making me groan in pleasant agony until it eventually subsided.
Catharine bent down and kissed me vigorously. "That was a perfect fuck," she said. "The twins have got themselves a winner here."
Epilogue
Shortly after my first night at Djemma's and Djorge's home, Djemma and Catharine became pregnant.
And my wife had become pregnant in Somalia, which seemed to be a long story involving a village where the men had been deprived for a long time as their wives were all circumcised and tried to avoid sex as best they could. My wife had bravely volunteered to help, and every night the village men had taken turns getting some satisfaction from her ... and, in all honesty, giving her satisfaction. And then, well, then she had become pregnant as contraception was not readily available in that part of Somalia.
The problem was, as I was told in graphical detail by some uncaring government representative, that adultery, in Somalia, is a crime punishable with stoning and she was now being held by an Islamist group bent on administering this punishment, unless she could prove she was innocent of this
hideous crime.
I had to quickly go to Somalia and met her colleague Bartholomew in the airport. Bartholomew and a young, lanky Somali boy, Akim, had managed to bribe some officials to have my passport stamped as if I had been to Somalia some months ago, making it believable that I was the father. We contacted the Islamist group and by showing our "evidence", including the marriage certificate, plus a lot of sweet talking, we managed to get my wife released. She was now too far gone in her pregnancy to fly home so she had to give birth in Somalia.
We went back to the village, where we lived in a little hut with a bed, a chair and a table in it. My wife was still aware of the plight of the village men so each evening I had to sit on the chair as the men were deftly serviced by my heavily pregnant wife. The men were really sweet and each brought some sort of gift, mostly food or fruit, but sometimes also jewellery they had made. After they had all finished, I could return to the bed and lie down next to my dear wife, making love to her forcefully as I was so full of the sight of her being used by the drove of deprived men. I cannot describe the feelings inside me, the pride, the lust, the love, the yearning — all because of my wife's lovely disposition. I knew why she was an aid worker for the charity: She cared.
She
really cared!
Early one morning, two weeks after I had arrived in Somalia, the water broke and she went into labour. The neighbours came running to help, hearing her screams of pain and within half an hour I was holding two milk chocolate beauties, a boy, Arale Robert and a girl, Adey Julia. Arale is an old Somali name meaning clean, referring to how he looked right after birth, and Adey means fair-skinned, because she (both of them, really) were much lighter skinned than any of the Somali people. My wife recovered surprisingly quickly after the birth and the very same evening the village had a huge party, celebrating the arrival of the twins.
We stayed at the village for another month, where my wife kept performing her "duty" every night and when we left, the whole village, men and women, was crying, lamenting our departure. And in the airport, my wife whispered to me, "Alan, I think I am pregnant again!"
Less than a week after my wife and I arrived home, Djemma and Catharine went into labour and within two hours of each other they had given birth to another set of milk chocolate beauties — a pair of twins for both of them. Suddenly, at the tender age of twenty four, I was the father of six children. The biological father of Djemma's and Catharine's and the de facto father of my wife's lovely Somali mixes.
And
she had another mixed pair in the oven.
What a world!