Nkhata Bay, Lake Malawi, May 1995
I sat in the hilltop gazebo overlooking the sleepy little bay. Time practically stood still here, and it was the perfect place for reflecting and putting pen to paper. I had everything I needed: a table, a stunning view, and shade from the relentless African sun.
Out on the lake, I could see swarms of flies in the shape of giant waterspouts. These humming clouds trundled slowly across the water until they hit the shore, where they would quickly strip the foliage bare. When this happened, locals and tourists alike stayed indoors under mosquito nets until the flies moved on. Sometimes intrepid fishermen were known to venture out in their canoes to catch the flies and make savoury cakes out of them – a delicacy I had yet to try.
I sighed in contentment. It had taken quite some time, but here, in this place, for the first time after months of bouncing around eastern Africa, I was finally relaxing. It’s not something you can plan, you see. You have to be ready. You have to let go.
This little ‘coastal’ village helped. An oxymoron for a land-locked country, perhaps, but true, nonetheless. Somewhat larger than Lake Erie, Lake Malawi was essentially an inland sea.
And Suzanne. Suzanne was helping, too.
Two things you should know about me,” she’d said. “One, I have orgasms very easily, and two, I’m a virgin.”
She was very direct, this incredibly sweet Canadian girl. Suzanne had told me this right after giving me the most incredible blowjob that totally belied her subsequent statement about virginity.
I closed my eyes and allowed the memory to wash over me.
Naked, I lay on my back with my cock firmly in Suzanne’s mouth. Her warm, soft, wetness was working a particularly diabolical magic on me; she’d only just wrapped her lips around my startled member and already I was close to firing an immense salvo worthy of a battleship.
Ninety seconds of unexpected delight and a torrent of slumbering spunk were about to erupt in this poor girl’s mouth!
“I’m going to cum,” I managed to gasp. It seemed only fair to give her a warning – however brief – in which to make a choice; either rapid retreat or full steam ahead and damn the torpedoes!
To my surprise, she didn’t stop, or withdraw her lips. Seemingly determined to make me spurt in her delicious mouth, she increased her oral ministrations and immediately tipped me over the edge. My balls cheered as I exploded like Mount Vesuvius after a particularly long hibernation.
Valiantly, Suzanne kept her lips clamped firmly over my pulsating rod as I filled her mouth to overflowing. I could sense her momentary indecision as she belatedly realised she couldn’t keep it all in and she relaxed her oral grip fractionally, allowing a deluge of caged miniature torpedoes to cascade onto the Pompeiian plain of my stomach and gleefully celebrate their escape.
By that day, I’d been bereft of any sexual activity since – well, since my interlude with Mette, the lovely Danish girl I’d met on the Bolivian Altiplano eight months previously. In a mutual desire to further Anglo-Danish relations, she’d quietly jacked me off in a room full of fellow backpackers. And later, when we were finally alone in a comfortable hotel in La Paz, she’d straddled me, positioned my cock at the entrance to her derrière, and offered me something I’d only dreamed about.
“Is that okay?” she’d asked gravely.
ooOoo
Letting go had taken me a long time. I had a lot of baggage to shed, you see. I’d been a submariner, but it turned out that living in a tin can a thousand feet below the surface of the ocean seriously wasn’t the life for me. It was like caging a wild bird; my wings had no room to spread and in response, my spirit withered.
I didn’t know myself then. Didn’t realise how miserable and unsuited I was for that life. But I began to comprehend that I needed to escape the dark hole I was spiralling down into. I desperately needed a change; to get away from this plummeting descent into depressing oblivion.
In desperation and hope, I decided I would follow my childhood dream of travelling the world. I would liberate myself from my bonds and become a nomad. Bugger nine-to-five. Stuff responsibility. Fuck having a job! I would live the dream and be free! Eschewing fatherly advice, I resigned my commission and left the submarine service forever.
And in doing so, likely avoided a mental breakdown…
As it transpired, the hardest thing required to kickstart my plan was marshalling the courage to actually go; to set a date and buy a ticket. Once I managed that, it was easy.
South America broke me in. I spent three months backpacking the Andes and the world opened up before me. Everything was suddenly possible. I got my self-confidence back and, rather than assuaging my hunger, the trip only increased my thirst for exploration.
My wings were clipped no more. But simply flying was no longer enough; now I wanted to soar!
I bought a one-way ticket to Nairobi and four months later, here I was!
Here I often travelled alone. Alone but not alone, because I chose when to be with people and when to travel solo. Here I was finally free of all the shackles with nothing to bind me.
My thoughts returned to Suzanne.
“A couple of things you should know about me. One, I have orgasms very easily and two, I’m a virgin.”
Her words were still playing back in my head when she dropped the next bombshell.
“But you should know that I make myself cum – no one else can do that, so you don’t need to – you know…”
She’d smiled wryly as she said the words and I couldn’t help but wonder what experiences this intriguing girl had had – what exactly had led to this curious state of affairs?
