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“I’m your fairy tale. Your dream. Your wishes and desires. I’m your thirst and your hunger; your food and your drink.” — Klaus Kinski

Masozi wondered what to do. He wandered round the deserted hay stacks in the dark field restlessly. Heat came in thick strands. The East African evening was a long time in cooling. He thought he would perhaps wash himself since there was time. There was a cavity of fresh water at the base of the hill. It was filled by a tiny spring that ran down to the lush garden in the lower field. All round the cavity the dwarf willows stood like clots of ghosts lost in the twilight.

The night did not darken; the moon rose in the sky and the purple bell-jar flowers around the water’s edge turned black. The meadow-larks flashed in the darkness as if they creatures of phosphorescent; making the air ache with song.

Masozi knelt on the slab of stone to bathe his arms, then his face. The water was deliriously cool. He had still an hour before Sanaa would come. He decided then to take his bath right then instead of waiting for the morning. As he soused his head he thought of what she had said to him the day before when she called him a crazy man:

“Maabol! I might need you to help me with something else as soon as you have some free time.”

Laughing that just the thought of her made him hard, he squeezed the rest of the water from his hair, standing in the forsaken corner of the field, veiled in the gray tinge of moonlight. The night had on a ruttish look: he couldn’t recall seeing the lustrous gray sheen before, like sweaty skin after a long, hard fuck, the heat of the bodies evaporating into high silvery places.

Then the willows, wrapped obscenely about themselves like sailors clutching their mates’ cocks, began to move, though he felt no wind. As he dried himself, he discovered little willow-the-wisps in the dusky air, felt their presences on his thighs, his ass; like soft caresses that were curiously delicious. At first pendik escort they startled him to realize he was not alone. The little people, called Abatwa in the old stories, the fairy cousins to the ziziphus lotus, haunted him. He reached to put his hand over their blue, electric fleeciness. Laughing, he gathered them in, dusting himself all over with their lunar fragrance. For a moment he hesitated in fear of what he was doing; but the subtle glow in the endless night, however, reassured him. From all around, close to the ground, came singing from a thousand unseen voices:

“The music of the moaning fields, deep in the grass.
The slap of bellies in the tall grass, deep in the ass.
The fairy lights glint among the tawny-brown willows.
The music of the moaning fields, deep in her ass …”

An hour later he was waiting under their rendezvous spot, in a state of high sexual exhilaration. He glowed. She was late. Forty-five minutes later she came, flitting through the dark where he was leaning, her thick thighs jiggling, her breasts under her nightgown bouncing rhythmically in her own eager way.

“I was beginning to think the Old Man Anansi had bewitched you,” he gave her massive ass a playful slap as she moaned in response.

“No, my old auntie Mmbali would not go to sleep,” giggled Sanaa. He laughed with her and they wandered out into the dim, glowing field.

“I want–” She was intense, full of energy. “I want — to run — there!” She softly squeezed his cock and pointed across the field.

“Yes, let’s run, then,” he was breathing a little harder at the touch of her hand.


Dropping his heavy cock, in an instant Sanaa was gone. He raced after her. At first he could scarcely see her, though he could hear the rustle of her nightgown. Her large, plump cheeks bounced in front of his eyes. He was surprised that she was so fast. Finally he overtook her, caught her by the arm, swung her around. They stood panting, facing tuzla escort one another with laughter, his cock pressed against her thigh.

“I knew you’d catch up with me if I ran slow enough,” she asserted blithely.

They walked on, holding hands, breathless. The sky was darkening with an awning of cloud. Every now and then she would tease him by bending over slowly to pick a flower up from the field, letting her nightgown ride up the back of her legs until, almost, her ass cheeks threatened to reveal themselves to his immense delight. As she would right herself, she’d look at him over her shoulder and wink.

“You only caught me because you spanked my ass right before we ran.”

“I could never hurt an ass as glorious as yours!”

“Well then, come here, lover man,” Sanaa said. “Rub it. Make it feel better.”

As he came up to her she gripped his thick erect cock, its veins popping out all over, which had become hard the moment he saw her and had refused to behave itself ever since.

“Fuck me where it hurts,” she whispered in his ear.

“Khawwar karrak?” he whispered, asking her what, exactly, she wanted in her ass.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” she moaned as she gripped his cock harder. “Under the stars, in front of the whole world.”

The empty field was suddenly filled blue fire, a sprinkle of otherworldly lights, like an elfish orgy in full swing. Pulling her nightgown up to her neck, she stood a little apart from him with her feet close together. With a gleam in her eye she shook her hips, making her cheeks clap together.

“You like that, maabol?” She asked, bending over, arching her spine, parting her ass like a peach. “You better come here,” she moaned.

Masozi gave Sanaa’s bubble ass a hard slap when he got behind her, slowly pushing his thickness into her.

“Be gentle, crazy man, I’m sore from all this running,” she groaned huskily as they clung to each other.

“I’ve only got the tip in you,” kartal escort he said.

“Salgot? Are you serious? So big!”

She grimace as he pushed in further. “No! No! It’s too big! O! Virgin Mother, crazy man Masozi is stretching me too wide!”

He spread her cheeks wider still, receiving a clear view of her stretched anus. She slapped her hand against the ground, calling on all the saints and devils to make him to take it out.

“You like big cocks in your ass?” he grunted.

“Yes, crazy man,” Sanaa moaned as her fingernails dug up tufts of grass.

“I’m only half way in, does it feel good?”

“Yes, Jesu! Yes, Mary!” She cried as he slapped her butt again.

“Well, then–“

With a cry he shoved the remainder of his pulsing cock right into her rectum, catching her by surprise. She screamed in response as he pushed deeper — deeper — deeper still in her 5’3″ frame; placing his fairy-dust hands around her shoulders, pulling her back, impaling her.

Shifting her weight her bubble cheeks began recoiling off his stomach; even this caused him to grunt with pleasure. Each time their bodies made contact, a thunderous clap vibrated through the field, causing the fox on prowl to stop and listen.

Soon Masozi’s thick cock slid in and out Sanaa with ease.

Grabbing her waist, he started bringing up his hips higher, ramming faster, quicker.

“Oh, crazy man! Fuck me!”

She was breathing though gritted teeth now; bent over, clasping her ankles as Masozi continued his onslaught, his hips bashing against her pillow-like backside.

“Masozi! Maabol! You are going to make me cum!”

“Angels and ministers of grace, this ass is too much!” he cried, just before he gave his last few strokes.

“Do it! Now!”

Jerking his cock with speed a long thick stream of cum jetted into Sanaa’s trembling rectum, flooded her, still clinching his cock while a moon-silver cum drop escaped, trailing down her inner thigh from her filled asshole while the music of addax horn, the cheering of the an invisible audience, surrounded them in their glow of their pleasure, the bone bracelets on the host’s arms jingling in the night breeze.

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