A lucky hobo..charity in action - Part 1, a short story by GutterrhymesEsq. Date added: 2012-07-28. Times viewed: 4734.
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- Intro: Het,lesbian,oral; a homeless lad gets laid
A lucky hobo...charity in action - Part 1
In the early nineties there was a huge influx of homeless people in my home town, Durban, by the sea. Political violence in the surrounding hills and vales ensured a steady flow of desperately destitute people; traumatised, hungry, filthy,stinky and hopeless. Inkatha “Freedom” Party and ANC thugs were butchering each other at a spectacularly brutal pace. Several sheltered homes sprang up, run by Christian churches and the wealthy Muslims of Indian descend. My best friends, 2 middle aged ladies and I played our part in the charitable activities until Maud came up with an idea one night. From then on our philanthropic motivation became an obsessive passion.
We were driving up West Street after a lovely opera at the Natal Playhouse when we spotted a mass of rags curled up on the pavement at the corner of Stanger Street. It was another homeless person, a hobo in local speak.
“Poor soul, see he is sleeping on a cardboard mat, he is lucky Durban is always warm, otherwise he would freeze his balls” I said, light heartedly, the cheap Cape wine showing its effects.
“He looks so young..” Rita commented looking at the lad’s face as we waited for the signal to turn green.
“Why don’t we take him to my home and we clean him up, feed him and let him sleep, tomorrow I could give him some of my Bob’s clothes and bring him back here” Bob was Maud’s late husband.
“Maud! You really have to be realistic, I mean hello, do you know where you are…this is South Africa, skattie (sweetie) you feed that Kaffir and he will kill you as soon as he has the strength. These people are murderous” Rita was “right wing” to the point of being a racist.
“Your smelly pussy Rita! Stop it. And didn’t we agree that we would stop calling Africans Kaffirs?” Maud objected. She was the most verligte (enlightened in Afrikaans) among us.
We had no problem convincing the hobo to come with us and he sat in the back seat of my Range Rover.
“Open the windows please” Rita requested as she opened hers.
The whole car interior was invaded by a sickening smell of pure filth. And Rita bore the brunt of it being in the back seat with the lucky destitute.
“Igama lakho ubani?” I asked his name in Zulu.
“Jabu madam, Jabulani waka Ngcobo madam,”
“Jabu uyasikhuluma isi Ngisi?” I asked if he spoke any English
“Ngiyazama” He said he could try, so we switched to English for the rest of the drive to Maud’s huge home on Lady Ellen Crescent in La Lucia, right by the sea.
Maud showed Jabu to the shower and gave him almost new clothes, complete with socks and underwear to put on after the bath.
We settled for our late night coffees in the lobby next to the suite in which Jabu was cleaning up then an idea came to my mind, I am not sure why and how.
“Let’s make sure that Jabu cleans himself up properly, also ladies, remember this may be the first time the lad is using modern ablutions, he is probably used to crapping in the bushes and bathing in the river” I suggested.
Jabu was standing in the shower water flowing on his woollen hair, down onto his slim frame. He turned around to face away from us as soon as he saw the “intruders”, us three. As he turned he offered us a view of the best defined buttocks I had ever seen. Each bun protruded backwards, forming an angle with the rest of his frame. There was not an ounce of fat below that lovely brown skin and no hair at all. He was rather tall for a Zulu man, at least 6 foot. One could see all the stringy thin muscles well defined on his long knock-kneed legs. Going up his back, it was the same theme, well defined stringy muscles and a strong neck. We looked at each other and I am cock sure we had the same thoughts..”what a specimen of man!”
I found my tongue first.
“We just want to help you wash-up Jabu, don’t worry, do you hear me?”
Jabu turned his face but kept his back to us, still hiding the part I am sure we were all dying to ogle, to discover. Having grown up being told that white men hated the local Africans because they had bigger dicks, we were keen to test the hypothesis.
Maud’s quick thinking saved the moment. She was already filling up the big spa-bath, bubble bath making a huge foam.
“We will scrub you Jabu, get into the tub” Maud said. Ordered, to be precise.
Jabu turned around and his hands could not cover it. His was a penis of proportions I only saw in porno videos. Flaccid length was a good 5 inches and it was fat and flabby. He got under the foam with his hands still unsuccessfully trying to cover his impressive manhood.
I decided to relax the poor boy. I started shampooing his Afro mop, working my hands on his scalp. Rita left the room briefly, I was later to discover that she had gone to the garbage bin to discard Jabu’s lousy rags, shoes and all. We were silent as Maud scrubbed Jabu’s back with and I rinsed his head and neck.
Rita started with the feet and we exchanged glances as she reached mid-thigh. I was getting too horny for my own good. My friendship with Rita and Maud started in childhood and we had engaged in several lesbian acts as we grew up, Rita being the one who initiated most episodes. However we never considered ourselves to be lesbians. Incidentally, 2 weeks before we had all ended up in crazy 3 way action at the Wild Coast Casino down the East Coast.
“I will finish off the rest madam” Jabu said as Rita’s hand got dangerously close to his balls.
“Hayibo Jabu, we will make sure you are clean, there is food in the fridge after the bath. Do you want some beer” I said as I massaged the young Zulu’s neck and ears. His breathing was getting faster and faster and I could feel fast pulsations in his neck s his heart raced.
The boy was too scared to allow anyone to touch his private part. I was later to discover that traditionally Zulu people were reluctant to allow a woman to see their dicks, let alone touch them. Something to do with magic spells, love portions and such. I handed him the sponge in my hand, saying.
“Shesha ndoda (hurry up man) wash you stick and balls quickly”
He dipped his hands under the suds and our keen (and horny) eyes were wide open so as not to miss a second of the action. The way we were looking at each other spoke volumes. We were definitely all highly aroused sexually. Jabu took washed his cock and from the motions he was making, I was disappointed because his dick was clearly flaccid( still).
“Alright Jabu, I will scrub your butt” Maud said dipping her hand into the water and washing Jabu’s arse.
“Hello, hello, hello….what do we have here…what a set of buns” Maud said lewdly.
“May I feel please” Rita said like an excited little girl.
“Me too” I didn’t want to miss the excitement.
We fondled the bewildered lad’s buns and yes, they something for even experienced late forties aunties to get their pussies frothing. I held right arse cheek in my left hand and squeezed hard. One of those short-lived moments one remembers for the rest of their life. It was a hard butt. No trace of fat under the skin, only hard gluteus maximus at its best. Our hands touched each other under the water as we groped. Jabu seemed not to mind and I started to relax as I had up to that point been under the impression that he was not enjoying our fascination.
“Now we dry your body my boy, stand up” Rita commanded.
Jabu slowly rose out of the water, looking at us fleetingly with minimal eye contact, a sign of respect in Bantu cultures of Southern Africa. We all stood back, in total silence as the Zulu lad displayed his manhood. It was a big black tube, complete with its foreskin. Again we looked at each other. The cock was massive, hanging semi-erect it hung almost down to mid thigh, and this was a tall boy!
I took a towel and wiped the water off his groin, massaging his pubes to dry his matted curly hair. I felt his dick in my own hand for the first time and the feeling was electrical. It felt like a toy python, rubbery but firm. The skin was loose and I felt the hard (and hardening) muscles under it. I left the cock alone for later reference.
“And you went straight for the willy, I see” Maud said with an unmistakeable tinge of jealousy.
I just ignored her as I cleaned Jabu between his buttocks forcing Jabu to squeeze his butt to keep my probing fingers out. This was fast getting out of control, matter of fact, it had gone all wrong from the moment Maud decided to pick the young vagrant up. My pussy was by that time very wet. Rita had her hand on Maud’s flabby bottom and I am sure that was not a sisterly act.
Maud put a neat satin gown on Jabu and tied the belt loosely. Then the most amazing thing happened. As we walked to Maud’s the kitchen, still with the commendable intention of “feeding the poor”, Jabu’s groin started pushing the fabric of the gown out. Then it slipped right through the parting in the gown and pointed straight out. Like Pinocchio’s nose, it just grew longer and longer. He tried to cover it up but we couldn’t allow that, even if we wanted to. Each one of us held his hands and arms to stop such a pointless, almost evil action.
“Are you VERY hungry Jabu?” I had to ask, hoping for a negative reponse.
Jabu hesitated for a moment and shook his head. He looked transformed and more confident, I suppose, stinking like a civet cat would make even the most ribald, self-doubt at least a little bit.
“Let’s go to me bedroom then” Maud proposed and we made a beeline there.
Now, how does one ask a homeless African boy to fuck 3 white women, years before apartheid’s official demise? That was our conundrum as we walked to Maud’s fornicatorium.
“Let’s apply some lotion to your skin Jabu, you have a beautiful skin, pity about the abrasions and scars”
Lookout for Part 2 of this story.
Not over yet
© Gutter Rhymes
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