I have to confess that I’ve never actually been partial to the whole idea of waking in someone’s arms. It all seems like a bit of a faff and I really do like to get my sleep. Having said that, there is still something very comforting and reassuring about sleeping with Brian. Somehow, I feel totally comfortable and at peace, something that certainly hasn’t been the case for quite some time.

So, I find myself lying on my side, back pressed to his chest with his arm around my waist as the rising sun begins to draw us from our slumber. His breathing is still slow and even, suggesting that he is still asleep and making me reluctant to disturb him. Besides, we don’t have to rush, as today is a travel day.

I’m also acutely aware of the fact that I’m extremely aroused and, apparently, so is Brian. Best to just lie quietly and let myself doze for a little while longer, I suppose.

I barely notice Brian’s breathing change, but I can’t fail to notice when his arm, draped over my hip and across my belly, begins to slowly move down towards my boxers. As his palm brushes across the bulge of my erection through the fabric, I can’t help myself from reacting and roll over quickly to face him, causing his eyes to pop wide open in surprise.

“Good morning, honey,” he whispers as he places a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. “Did you sleep well?”

“Hmm…” I manage as I kiss him back on the lips softly.

Brian draws me in tight now, deepening our kisses as he pushes his hips forwards to rub our hard cocks together through the thin fabric of our underwear. I manage to use my free hand to get a grip on both our waistbands and draw back enough fabric so we are no longer constrained by clothing and our cocks can rub together wetly.

“Is this enough for now?” Brian asks as he slips his hand down between us to grip both our erections together and stroke slowly.

“Hmm…” What starts as a hum of agreement turns into a moan of pleasure as he draws both our foreskins back at the same time and squeezes tighter. He’s good. Actually, very good, but I need a little more control, so I quickly roll him over onto his back with me on top. Positioning myself astride his hips so our cocks are still able to touch, I can now use both hands to grip us together and maintain a tighter grip for both of us.

I’m also able to hold my hands steady and thrust my hips slowly, rubbing my constrained length along the base of his own throbbing shaft. He lets his hands fall down my back until he’s gripping my arse and squeezing with my thrusting rhythm.

“Fuck!”, I moan after just a couple of minutes. “I’m not going to last…”

“Neither am I!” he manages between panting breaths as he begins to squeeze my cheeks firmer than ever. I can’t tighten my grip much more, but I can speed up my thrusts and do just that. Cocks and hands slick with pre-come, I slide myself along his length as fast as I can move my hips.

Pushing forward with a groan, I grip hard and pull back to release my orgasm. My first couple of pulses spatter onto Brian’s chin and neck, but I keep stroking a few more times before his own orgasm hits and his semen joins mine across his neck and chest.

Totally spent, breathing ragged, I collapse down into the sticky mess with a deep moan of spent pleasure. Brian simply wraps his arms around me and holds me close, breathing as deeply as I am myself.

Our next lodge, beyond the rift wall in the crater highlands is only a couple of hundred kilometres away. This gives us plenty of time to have a leisurely breakfast and then even more time to be packed and ready for an equally leisurely drive out through the park looking for more wildlife.

That’s certainly a good thing, as it gives Brian and myself enough time to get properly cleaned up and presentable. We’re not exactly in a country that welcomes LGBTQ+ people. Okay, let’s be honest here, we’re in a country – or to be more precise a whole region – where the opposite is true and persecution, violence and vile political rhetoric are the norm.

As a nominally single traveller, I hadn’t thought that this was a problem for me on a short trip, but now I’m conscious of the fact that I – we – have to be very circumspect.

“So…”, Andrea whispers to me while I stand at the machine waiting for a slice of bread to toast. “You and Brian?”

“Wait… What? How?”

“I’m a lawyer,” she tells me quietly with a smile. “I’m taught to be observant and analytical. Let’s say that I just put two and two together.”

“I see. Honestly, Andrea, I don’t know. It’s not as if we’ve talked about anything. I… He’s nice?”

“Why the hell is that a question. Obviously, he’s nice. It just took you a long time to see that he was interested.”

“Yeah, I know. Please, don’t say anything.”

“Don’t worry, the community is good at keeping things secret. It’s what we’ve done for millennia.”

My toast, burnt to a cinder, pops out of the base of the machine. “Cereal and yoghurt,” I suggest as I shake my head and walk away, pausing to smile at Andrea to acknowledge her support.

Peter and Ian are mingling, making sure everyone remembers to be packed and have our bags on our verandas ready to be collected in good time to get out and on the road.

“Will we see the rift wall?” I ask Ian when he stops next to me.

“Oh, yes. In fact, the main highway goes right up the side of it once we get to Mto Wa Mbu. We go right past the entrance to Lake Manyara National Park and then it’s uphill for about three kilometres and almost 400 metres of altitude. If it’s clear, we’ll stop for a look at the view.”

“Is there a particular reason for going to Lake Manyara on the way back?”

“Only that it helps to break a very long drive into a pair of shorter legs. Coming back from Seronera in one run would be, well, not much fun.”

“And breaking the journey makes it fun?”

“Well, no, but it does make it bearable. Relax. We always play up how bad the road is beyond the crater. It keeps the riff-raff away.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. There’s always talk of surfacing the road, all the way to Seronera or even beyond. No-one really wants that if they value the wildlife. It’ll just mean more traffic, more accidents and more dead animals. It’d half the distance between Arusha and Mwanza or Musoma on Lake Victoria, but fortunately it’s an enormous expense and so far, it hasn’t managed to get the Chinese industrial machine interested.”

“I don’t imagine many people even think about it. For most of us, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime safari and we’d love smooth roads all the way, even if that’s not exactly authentic,” I muse.

“Yes. Honestly, the whole of this northern circuit is far from authentic. 90% of the visitors to Tanzania come this way. You’ve already seen how busy some of the parks and lodges are here. There’s a whole vast region to be explored beyond the northern circuit. Parks bigger than countries; tens of thousands of square kilometres of total emptiness and endless wildlife-filled bush. If you ever feel yourself getting hooked, ask Peter or me about Ruaha and Nyerere National Parks.”

“You take people to these places?”

“Yes, but not nearly as often as we would like. You do need to be, well, dedicated.”

“Is it really that hard?”

“No, but most people don’t like to be off the beaten track quite that far. No electricity, no mobile coverage and no running water puts most people off.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I tell him after a moment of thought. “No mobile connectivity?”

“Not for days. Anyway, do you have anything else to get from your room, or are you ready to get going?”

I’m actually ready to go and, as the last few stragglers gather at the cars, we begin our sedate drive out of the park. We really should have plenty of time and Joshua has clearly been ordered to turn this into a relaxed game drive.

It's approaching mid-morning though and there really isn’t all that much for us to see. There are the inevitable antelopes and here and there a few elephants in the shade of the great baobab trees, but not much else to excite a photographer.

At least I’m finally getting to the point where I can tell some of these animals apart. I’m finding a personal affinity for waterbuck. There’s something a little bit majestic and imposing about the incurved horns that I find makes a good subject for a photograph. The air of elegance is spoiled a bit by the white ring apparently painted by nature around their bums like a cartoon target, but you can’t win them all.

All too soon, we are once more out on the open road, speeding back to the north for a while before turning west again in the direction of the small town of Mto Wa Mbu. The first thing I notice is that things start to get a little greener. Not so much out on the road, but as the line of the rift escarpment appears ahead of us, there’s a definite change in the scenery.

The town is bustling. There are people inside and outside of the small shops everywhere.

“Are they growing rice?” Andrea asks as she looks to the south in the middle of town.

“Yes,” Ian tells us. “It grows well here, at least if they get enough water. They are taking water from Lake Manyara for irrigation. It’s replenished mostly by the year-round springs along the rift wall. The Tarangire River and a couple of others also flow in seasonally.”

After another bustling section of town, we suddenly find ourselves in countryside again, with dense forest to the south and the odd building to the north.

“This is the Park,” Ian tells us as we pass the gate. “We’ll get to see it properly in a few days.” It’s right at the bottom of the rift escarpment and the road immediately takes a broad turn to the south and begins to climb steadily.

Soon enough we are turning off the slope at the top of the climb and making our way through numerous small towns and villages through a very different landscape. Where the lower ground of Tarangire was dry, here it appears to be much wetter. There are field after field of healthy green crops and scattered areas of woodland. The outlook is green and red from the rich rust-red soil that seems to be visible everywhere.

It's also a couple of degrees cooler, simply because of the altitude. It makes the drive much more pleasant, although there is little to see along the way that we haven’t seen before.

Everyone is quiet, as we speed up and slow down through the traffic and busy towns. Many towns have roadblocks – either for security or economic reasons, but we pass most by with a nod and a friendly smile. Still, getting stopped occasionally just seems to be a thing here.

By early afternoon we finally turn off the main road and our small convoy heads down a reasonable dirt road in the direction of our accommodation for the night.

Approaching one more roadblock, the first two vehicles are waved through. We’re maybe 100m behind and the makeshift barrier falls across our path.

Joshua winds his window down, ready to talk if needed, but the tall man in a makeshift uniform ignores him and instead heads round to Ian’s side of the vehicle. His window is already open, so he begins with simple formality. “Good afternoon, officer. How may we help you.”

“Smuggling inspection,” the man tells him as he adjusts the strap of the rifle that is slung over his shoulder. “Everybody out, please.”

Ian glances at Joshua who can only manage to shrug his shoulders. I’m beginning to get the impression that this is unusual, but I’ve really no idea.

“Yes, officer,” Ian tells him as he opens his door. As he turns to step down, he calls to us in the back. “If you would all step out, please, this officer needs to conduct an inspection.” I notice that Joshua is staying in his seat and is doing something with his phone, but I now need to concentrate on getting out with everybody else.

Brian places a hand on my shoulder as I step down and whispers “Relax” from behind my right ear. I wouldn’t admit it, but I’m far from relaxed. There are only two men, but they don’t exactly look legitimate to me. That being said, they do have guns.

While we stand in a row, the other inspector begins to go through our things, pulling our hand luggage out and onto the side of the road. None of the group really have much more than a few personal items, except me. My camera bag is immediately the centre of their attention.

The ’officer’ takes one look at the camera, lenses and laptop and gives a barely noticeable smile. “This is not permitted. It is all confiscated.”

“What?” Ian and I say at almost exactly the same time.

“It is confiscated.”

“You are not taking my camera,” I tell him firmly as I take a step towards my stuff. I sense the slightest hint of movement from my left, but then everything goes dark.