Chapter 12: Damian, Bradford’s Bungalow, Stanton Reach, Malaya

I don’t know why Bradford made me want to come to him. He had been so gruff and bossy—and so censorious. And yet the way he looked at me, I knew he wanted me. I wanted him to want me. I think perhaps I cavorted with the Indian and Malay workers as brazenly as I did just to get his attention. To arouse him and put him over the edge. But no. I did what I did because I loved it—loved having a man’s cock moving inside me.

But given the choice of any of the Indians and Malays over Bradford—Fahmeed excepted, of course, Fahmeed’s touch and cock were magical—I would have taken Bradford. I still melted at the thought of his strong arms around me and my fingers tracing the veining on his arms as I feel him entering me and moving inside me. But he would not take me when he had the opportunity.

So, I came to him. There were no drums that night, no reason to go to the altar. So, I went there instead, across the lake to Bradford’s bungalow. And when I entered the room, Bradford was already asleep. He must have been exhausted from the day’s work, as he was fully clothed, and just lying across the coverlet of his bed, snoring softly.

It was peaceful there, sitting in the moonlit room and watching Bradford’s massive chest rise and fall with each breath. I hadn’t had much time to just sit and think since I’d come to Stanton Reach. Once Jim had introduced me to the cock and Fahmeed had taken me to the altar and the ceremonies, it seemed I was moving in a cloud—working in the plantation and fucking there in the forest with the workers by day and in Jim’s bed or on Fahmeed’s altar in the night. Sometimes I think I used the act of sex to avoid thinking.

I had lost Jane. Jane, who had always been there, even when our parents deserted us in death. But I was being punished. I had lain with Jane’s husband and now I was being punished. It wasn’t just that she wouldn’t be coming here now—or that I was being kept from going to her—but also because she was with child now. There was no room in her life for me now. And at the same time and for the same reason I was losing Jim who had left early the day before.

There was only Fahmeed now. And the thought of that scared me as much as it fascinated me. I could hardly remember the beginning of Fahmeed—a presence that was filling every corner of my being—and I could barely even remember the present of him. I always seemed to be floating above the scene when I was under his spell, in a haze, a haze of the trees of the forest invading and filling me, possessing me fully. And what was the future to be?

That question frightened me. And here I was, in Bradford’s room. Searching for an alternative with no firm idea why or how—just knowing that I needed Bradford to see me—to want me—to take me. Maybe to protect me—as he seemed to be trying to do, although I’d pushed him away. To give me possibilities where, increasingly, there were none.

He woke with a start. I’m sure it was not from anything I had done, although at some point I heard the drums starting again—softly and in the distance. They could have started then or later. Who knows? They just sort of drifted in.

I watched as Bradford snorted and turned onto his side, and his legs spilled over the edge of the bed. He stood and stretched. And then I held my breath as he stripped off his soggy clothes, wet from the heat of night.

Then he was naked. And my body ached for him. He was a powerful man, with a thick and low-hanging cock that he was absentmindedly scratching as he stumbled over into the alcove and started to sluice down his body with water from the overhead tank.

My heart began to beat faster and heavier. Or, no, maybe not my heart. I became more aware of the beating of the drums. They were growing louder, more insistent. Calling to me. I was torn. I ached for Bradford, to meld with his powerful body, to feel the peace of the thrust inside me of that thick cock, to hold those heavy balls in my hands and to squeeze them and feel his essence moving and his ejaculation deep inside me. But the drums were calling.