[Mbeya Region, Tanganyika, 1935]

Matthew Walker, big game hunting guide, stood outside of the reception building of the Madibira airstrip as the Junkers 52 commercial airliner came in for a landing.

“There he is, Helmut Kruger,” the tour scheduler said, pointing to a heavy-set, tall, middle-aged man stepping out of the plane onto the short mobile stairs down to the tarmac. A blond-headed boy deplaned behind him.

“Who is that with him? His son?” Matthew asked.

“No,” the tour scheduler snorted. “He will probably pass him off as his son, but he is just his boy, if you know what I mean.”

“He looks like just a boy,” Matthew said, although the boy looked like an angel to the big game hunter. He had a fetish for boys and this one was a stunner. He had wound up in Tanganyika because his vice, native boys here being all too eager to go under a good-looking, muscular white man with money.

“He’s fourteen. That’s the legal age in Germany,” the tour scheduler said. And that’s all we need to know.

“That and that the man is here not just to hunt big game, I was told,” Walker said. “He’s here to try out a new form of rifle, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Herr Kruger is an arms manufacturer in Frankfurt, Germany. He makes rifles for the German army. I understand they are pushing arms development and manufacture—that there’s a war coming in Europe.”

“All the better reason to be in Africa,” Matthew said. That and so that he could continue to pursue his fetish, of course.

Then the German and the boy were upon them and introductions were being made. The boy was introduced as Kurt. No surname was provided. He was a shy, but gorgeous blond, blue-eyed, and willowy-body boy. Matthew couldn’t help but look at him with interest, and he fancied that the interest was returned. The boy definitely had a roving eye and was taking as much advantage of Kruger as the German was taking of him. Matthew felt himself go hard, not that he thought that anything could become of it. The arms manufacture was obvious an important man not to be crossed. But the boy was a saucy, flirty little thing.

“We leave immediately for the camp in the Mbeya hunt region,” he informed Kruger. “I’ve already been told of a pride of lions on the move close to our encampment. Is that the new rifle you are testing? That is quite a formidable-looking piece of equipment.”

Matthew fought hard to concentrate on looking at and speaking with Kruger, although he was quite aware of the presence of the beautiful boy. Standing close to him, the boy brushed Walker’s thigh with his fingers when Kruger wasn’t looking.

Yes, he thought the boy would be interested, given an opportunity.

The camp was a series of tents surrounding common area with a large firepit in the center. There were camp chairs facing the pit and wooden tables off to the side for dining. Kruger had engaged a private tour, so there was just him, his boy, a young man who was Kruger’s assistant and “do everything,” the hunt guide, Walker, and about three times as many native servants and servers. Heeding what the tour scheduler had said, all of the natives were male, young, and good-looking.

After dinner, as darkness came on, the best-looking of the natives put on a dance, accompanied by African drums, around the fire pit for the guests. They wore just their many-colored sarong skirts, and the dancing was quite sensuous and provocative.

As they danced, Matthew could see that Kruger was becoming heated and couldn’t—and didn’t—resist touching the boy, Kurt, here, there, and everywhere, eventually pulling the boy into his lap. From the rocking going on in the chair, it was obvious the man was dry humping the boy while fondling him with his hands. The dancing and drumming were having their sensual effect.

Matthew pretended not to see what Kruger was doing, but he watched out of the corner of his eye. Kruger’s assistant, Wilhelm, showed no surprise at the attention his boss was giving the boy. His attention was going to Matthew, and he gave Matthew frequent signaling of his own interest in the hunky game hunter. Wilhelm too was quite a good-looking young man, perhaps of about twenty. When the tour scheduler had pointed him out to Matthew, he had opined that Wilhelm probably was Kruger’s fourteen-year-old boy toy before Kurt and had aged out of that position and into his current dog’s body role.

So, from the beginning, Matthew, in his late thirties, but ruggedly handsome and with the muscularity that went with his profession, had the notion that Wilhelm could be had. That was comforting and arousing, but not like Kurt being available to be had would be. Still, Matthew hadn’t had any white flesh recently.

Kruger’s arousal was such that he declared the intent to go to the tent he shared with Kurt early, before the dancing was over. He, of course, took Kurt with him.

The walls of the tents were translucent when the lamps were lit within them at night, so Kruger and Kurt provided a show as seen beyond the dancers at the fire pit. The two were seen as shadows, locked in an embrace on one of the camp beds. The boy was being held in front of the much larger man, facing away from him, as the man embraced the boy, covered him with kisses, and ran his hand’s over the boy’s body. The moment of penetration from behind and the rocking of the man’s pelvis against the boy’s buttocks in cadence with that of the African drums were clearly conveyed on the canvas, and Matthew, his complete attention going to the tent show, couldn’t help having a hand go to the crotch of his bush shorts and to rub his engorging shaft.

As the rocking motion of the figures in the shadow screen made obvious that Kruger was fucking his kneeling boy from behind, Matthew was oblivious to the presence of Wilhelm until, fly open and cock in hand, Wilhelm was standing next to the game hunter, touching his arm, and begging him for attention.

Matthew wanted the boy, but the boy was unattainable. Another good-looking young man was offering himself to Matthew. There wasn’t much of a decision to be made. Matthew rose, guided Wilhelm into his tent, put him on all fours on his camp bed, and the two of them created their own shadow play of Matthew doggy fucking Wilhelm in shadow play on the wall of Matthew’s tent.

The dancing around the fire and the drums accompanying it, providing a cadence for the fucking in both Kruger’s and Matthew’s tent, went on into the night.

“I see one, over there, slinking around in that brush. Magnificent. Stop the truck.” Kruger was out of the vehicle, carrying his new-style rifle, almost before it came to a stop.

“Be careful. There probably are others around too,” Matthew called out to the German. “There could be one behind you as well as in front.” There was no telling whether Kruger had heard him or not, so, reaching for his rifle, Matthew bailed out of the truck as well. Kurt was following behind him. Wilhelm wasn’t there. He had work to do for Kruger back in the camp and he had no stomach for hunting anyway. He also was walking a little bowlegged today. Matthew was built big and he used it cruelly. But Wilhelm was humming as he hobbled.

Matthew only had time to call back to Kurt that the boy better get back into the truck. “Where’s there’s one lion there probably are others,” he called out.

That didn’t make much of an impression on the boy, though. He continued walking in the direction that Kruger and Walker had gone, toward the one lion Kruger had seen.

But Matthew was quite right. There was more than one lion out there. And there was another one that was behind them rather than in front of them.

Kurt heard a rustling in the bushes behind him and turned to see the lion tracking him, hunched close to the ground, ready to spring. The boy screamed and the lion went airborne. There were two rifle shots and, although the lion fell on the boy, taking him to the ground, the lion was dead, two bullet holes in his skull, before he hit the ground.