Mystery | The Safari | Chapter 1

Updated: Jan 5

John Martin was not happy. He had woken up early with this strange feeling and even after a nice jerk off, in his luxury shower, he could not shake it completely. The warm rays from the blooming sunlight warmed his soul and he started feeling better as he took the elevator down to the dining area. He walked slowly towards to the big glass windows and said: Open! The big glass door slid open without a sound. He inhaled the fresh air and gazed with interest. The view was spectacular. From his house he could see all the way down to the ocean. He lit a Lucky Strike and inhaled the rough tobacco deeply into his lungs and slowly let the smoke escape in small rings, through his mouth. After a very good breakfast made by his servant Missy - Pancakes with mango jam, fried eggs, lean bacon, orange juice, fresh strawberries, home baked bread from heaven accompanied by a Chablis from 2016 - He started pondering to have some real fun. He blew a kiss to Missy as she checked if he was happy with the meal. Missy had been with him for years and was considered the best chef in the south when he had dined at the Michelin star restaurant that she has been running ever since. The name of the restaurant is The Killer. He offered her a deal that was just too good. So, she started working for John Martin and got rich.

He watched her ass when she left the room. That's a premium he decided. It seemed to grow slightly in the right places every year. Her hair was blond. Real blond. Still young though. Perhaps thirty five or so. Damn fine woman. He looked at the color of the wine. Fresh, bright honey. Just like Missy's hair. He picked a strawberry from the canter on the table and popped it into the wine. Why the hell not? His mind went back to the current day. Fun! Fuck it! Slowly a plan emerged and started spinning faster and faster.

He could afford to have fun. He had reached the age of 70 but his hair was still good, his mind sharp and no Viagra yet needed. After making a name for himself as a pioneer in journalism, covering the global sex market in the early 60's, he had turned his attention to smuggling heroin. And this, he had done very well. It had been dangerous and he had learned how to handle dangerous men. He had also learned how to move money. Big money! His business grew rapidly and he rode the wave. But he only did it for seven years. In the 1980's he invested the money into shares of a Tech new company and he hit the jackpot, The new investment took off. Big time!

He then started up Martin Invest and became a successful investor in different ventures and trades. John was now a multi millionaire living in Oslo - Norway, in a big villa on the westside, in Holmenkollen. He still worked a bit from time to time but his only son, Leif Martin, had taken over the daily management of his business. The villa was custom made and he had chosen pine as the main building block. It even had a helipad on the roof. The villa was 700 square meters large and he had designed it all from scratch. He called it The Cabin.

He enjoyed the winters and welcomed the darkness that fell upon the small country every year. He had other homes of course, but after he turned 70, his golfing days became more seldom and too many of his friends had died. Too many indeed,

Many winters have passed since he left Norway as a young lad to live with his uncle Theo in Miami. He had attended business school but switched over to Journalism after a chance encounter with LSD, back in the 60's. His daughter Lela ran her own security company. Lela was 36 years old, An ex-marine and she was as tough as they come. He loved her dearly.

John Martin had also invested in a gigant operation that finally had started to show some promise.

He lit a Cohiba cigar and sampled the Chablis. It was fresh, intense and not too fruity. It tasted like pussy in a erotic way. Yes that was it. He smiled and drank some more from the handsome glass.

After breakfast he leaped into action. John Martin was going to party. And he had decided where to go. He would go to Amsterdam. Yes dammit!

One hour later his private red chopper lifted from the rooftop of The Cabin. He was still drinking, but had now switched to Lagavulin. He had brought the bottle. He was dressed in a Hugo Boss suit, with gold cufflinks, a beige cross bone hat on his head and his hunting boots which had not been cleaned since he was on that last hunting trip in Kenya. The desert sand still covered the brown leather. John was texting like crazy on his iPhone. Soon he got feedback. The pilot had shouted something about no smoking in the chopper, and was told curtly to fly and fuck off. John laughed. No smoking. The world had become full of male pussies. All this feminism, although not bad, just endlessly boring. His friend Maria had answered him. He read the SMS. Big party tonight at the hotel Okurra.

He knew the place. Why not? He would rock that fucker. Yes he would. He was going to sink the fucking country.

On arrival he left the chopper a bit drunk. Now to get some good drugs. Coffee Shop, yes! So he got into the rented car. A Ferrari. Red, sexy and fast. Although a low rider car, he almost dived in. The glass was still in his hand as he steered the car through the streets. He was looking for a coffee shop. A particular one. He was now smoking Lucky Strikes. He had brought a whip for some reason that was hooked to the belt on his hip. Not bad for an old man, he thought. The streets of Oudebrugsteeg were crowded. Could he even drive here?

He soon found the place he was looking for. The 420 Café. He swung the Ferrari somehow, close to a parking space and just left it there. As he entered the calm café he spotted Maria. Damn she was still good looking. Long brown hair, sexy curves and big brown eyes. The long legs turned him on and that ass... Big with full buttocks. Would he still fuck her? Yes of course. She must be 39 years old or so, he concluded. She was Asian. From Thailand? He did not remember. After the hugs and ceremonial kisses were over with, they got on with the business of smoking. What to choose? He looked at the menu through his pilot sunglasses. He could not see shit. What the fuck, he blind now? No it was just the psycho crossbones hat he was wearing, which had slid down over his eyes. He took it off and put it on the table.

He again pondered the menu. He decided. "I will go for the synthetic black snake Mamba!" The clerk smiled. Very good! I will bring everything you need soon.

Maria laughed and almost spit out the warm coffee she was drinking. Do you know how strong that weed is? You will fucking die old man, you will go mental first and then die.

Perhaps, he answered... "but I will have some fucking fun!"

He ordered a cup of black coffee too and then really looked at her. The lines around the lips had not been there the last time they met. The lips were still red though. No bags under the eyes. It dawned on him. Have you had a fucking face job? She smiled. No you idiot. I do yoga! Is your dick still working? Yes, indeed! And he smiled. I remember it! She said. It's a good cock. Her eyes were teasing him. Wanna ride it you crazy broad, he counted. Perhaps. He looked at her shirt. It was red, clean and fit her well. Long open sleeves with a V-neck. Her breasts were still round and juicy. His line of thought ended when the grass was served. Maria smelled the green buds, oily like a rope on a offshore oil rig. This is strong stuff. We got to be careful. Careful, he snorted. Let's smoke it.

Maria rolled a big spliff and gave it to him. The smell of the aromatic herbs took him back in time. He lit the blunt with a gold lighter and his hands were steady. He felt the slight shock in his lungs when the thick smoke entered his system. Slowly he let the smoke fill the air above the table. Maria then smoked a careful puff. They took a break, talked some more and then smoked even more. The effect of the weed was slow at first, so they decided to go to the hotel Okurra and chill out with a drink and perhaps some sensual massage. It was a sunny day in May and the Dutch were swishing about on their big wheeled cycles and people were about in the warm streets. The city was buzzing with life. Back in the Ferrari, Maria decided to drive. John is fucking waisted she thought. She looked at him as he shouted at some people on the street, They smiled at him. If they only had known who this old guy in the red Ferrari was., she thought, laughing at the pictures that appeared in her head. They drove with the top open and the breeze was smooth.

John was smoking cigarettes and drinking the whisky. He was a fun guy to be around. Cruel but fun. How long had she known him now? At least 20 years. He was tall and his hair still full, long and white. Broad shouldered with narrow hips and long legs. His dick was thick, she remembered. She knew that dick well. She had almost married him back in the days, but he had backed off claiming she was too young for him. She was only 19 at the time, so perhaps, he had been right. His face was grinning now. I think the mamba is starting to bite. His lips parted slightly as he spoke. His eyes were deep blue with just a hint of fogginess. His mouth was full, the jaw set as of steel but with soft cheeks. His beard still had black color in certain places and his hands were big. Long fingers and clear skin. The deep lines around his neck were new. What's up with the hat? She looked at the brown cross bone hat. A guy gave it to me in a rain forest. A rain forest? He giggled. Don't ask more. I will have a fucking laughing fit. Then they both broke down as the Ferrari barely stayed on the road. A young woman on a bicycle had to duck for cover and ended up crashing into a crowd of Japanese tourists.

As they arrived outside the hotel she felt the mamba too. It struck hard. The hotel seemed to be all covered in gold and the elevator shone like diamonds. They got excellent service. He was after all psycho rich. The elevator music was the Norwegian band A-HA, big hit - Hunting High and Low. They were both still laughing. Trying to catch their breath. By the time they had checked into the room, both of them were loopy as fuck. He ordered a bottle of champagne, some posh Brut or was it wine? She was to0 stoned now to care. Along with a big lunch made for kings or queens. A Japanese waiter entered and laid out the lunch in a perfect manner. John was taking a big shit while Marie attacked the food. Afterwards, they crashed into the big bed. The hotel room was more like an apartment. Complete, with everything. It even had a small swimming pool.

John saw stars and everything went slow. Was the room green? Yes it must be! No, it was fucking gold! He loved gold. John was not sure but something seemed to be touching his cock.

Maria had removed his pants. His dick was hard as granite. It was an old dick and the blue veins covered it like a spiders web. But the top was nice and pink and he had shaved the base. It stood out proud like a flag pole.

She started eating him. It's still good, she murmured with her lips full of saliva. She undressed. He watched her flat tummy, the big round ass, and the full breasts, as he took in her female scent through his hyper alert weed stoned mind. The vagina was bushy black and he could see the dripping juice inside. Locks of her hair was tangled around his cock and the musk from her ass excited him greatly. He got up slowly. On your knees! He ordered. She complied. He then took the whip from his pants. Her brown honey eyes were steady. Do you want this? Yes! She said, while cupping his balls with his dick in her mouth. He whipped her. The whip zinged through the air and the smacking sound of each strike on her ass sounded like gunshots in the room. Pink marks appeared but she took it. She was bleeding slightly as he entered her ass. This time she screamed, as her anus was punished!