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    Desolate Journey
    Desolate Journey
    Desolate Journey
    Ebook69 pages1 hour

    Desolate Journey

    By Roger Russell

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    About this ebook

    Quinton is a young man from a wealthy family in South Africa exploring his sexuality. His experiments lead him to the violent world of Hillbrow, Johannesburg and some hard lessons on the realities of an alternative lifestyle. When he finally goes home it is to find that nothing can ever be the same again....This story contains scenes of gay sex; some of it detailed and brutal. If you are at all sensitive do not read it.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRoger Russell
    Release dateMar 10, 2014
    ISBN9781311275912
    Desolate Journey
    Author

    Roger Russell

    Born in 1947 in Eldoret, Kenya Roger attended school in Bournemouth, UK and St David's College in Johannesburg, SA. Roger Russell fell into a long drop toilet when he was three years old, out of a car when he was four. He went on to almost drown himself at six, cut through his left leg when he was seven and crush his right arm when he was nine. By the time he was eleven he had spent over a year in hospital and had been the recipient of many hundreds of stitches. He was banned from playing soccer or rugby and could not run to save his life. He started in the mines at nineteen and lost his finger in an accident before a month had passed. He joined the U/G Rescue team and was gassed, trapped and lost underground within the space of a single year. Roger married in 1968 and is the father of four children by his first wife, Sharon, to whom he was happily married for twenty five years before she died of cancer in 1993. He has since remarried and lives with Cynthia on a 30 foot motor cruiser in Hermitage Marina near St Ives in the UK. They have one child, a boy named Gordon after Roger's father. In 1993, after the death of his wife, Roger walked from Beit Bridge on the Northern border of South Africa to Cape Town, a distance of 2000km. He slept alongside the road and walked alone and un-armed through one of the worst political times the country had ever seen. He saw then and has continued to see immense power in common people. In 1999 he walked right around South Africa to support a much maligned South African Police Services. He was mugged by a squatter camp gang, attacked by a policeman in a remote station in the Transkei and swept away in a flash flood in the Orange Free State. He has seen police barracks that were worse than some prison cells, met and spoken with criminals, saints and politicians. The British media called him a South African hero and Steve Tshwete, the South African Minister of Safety and Security at the time said he was truly a South African patriot. Roger has also walked in America on two occasions, promoting South Africa and cancer awareness to the people of California, Nevada, New Mexico and other states. Roger has written several books all of which he plans to publish with Smashwords in time.

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      Book preview

      Desolate Journey - Roger Russell

      Desolate Journey

      By Roger Russell

      Published by Roger Russell at Smashwords

      Copyright 2014 Roger Russell

      Discover other titles by Roger Russell at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rogerrussell

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      DESOLATE JOURNEY

      He watched the train come through the cutting and into the valley, mechanically intrusive and totally unappealing in comparison with the red and golden glory of the autumn vines that covered the hills on either side. The tracks were two strings of steel that would lead it to the small station where he was waiting. He had nothing with him but the clothes he was wearing, his ticket and some money tucked inside a small personal bag, more like a pouch than a real bag. Other than that he had only the grief that filled him. A sense of loss that was greater than it needed to be; frustrating because he had brought it on himself, devastating because of the extent of his loss. Standing on the station he was out of place amongst the coloured hawkers and young, poorly dressed children, selling fruit and an assortment of buns and biscuits. The sun shone down and the concrete platform was hot through the soles of his trainers. The locals probably knew him and were wondering what the son of the white farmer was doing, slumming on the station.

      That morning early he had watched the house from the hillside and waited for his father to leave for the vineyards before he went down and found his mother. She was sitting in the lounge looking through the huge front window, out over the lawns and driveway to the rows of grapevines below. He sat down opposite her and in the silence between them the events of yesterday rose up through his mind. It had been his idea, born out of a strange and exciting desire to touch his friend and play with him. He had wanted to see and touch Danny’s body and so had suggested to him that they tried to simulate sex and find out what it was like to really do it. Not the laboured beating of a desperate hand and fevered mind but something closer to the actual feeling.

      Danny seemed keen enough so they had gone to a small room at the back of the tool shed and closed the door. The darkness was not complete and the shadows somehow added an air of excitement to the whole thing. There were some sacks of fertiliser piled against the wall at a good height; he had offered to go first and had lain down on his stomach on top of them and pulled his jeans down to expose his bottom. Don’t put it inside me Dan, slip it between the crack of my legs right up by my bottom and do it there. Try to feel the feeling.

      Danny was hard. The thought of Danny’s penis actually in his bottom was much more exciting than he had anticipated and he wondered if maybe Danny would do that if he asked him. But it was all over before he could suggest it. He felt the warmth of Danny’s urgent response squirting through his legs and onto the bag beneath him. Danny quickly climbed off him and onto his feet breathing heavily and said, That was fantastic now it’s your turn, you do it to me.

      Danny lay down, his jeans already down. Quick try it, it’s great.

      The sight of Danny lying down with his bum open took hold of Quinton in a way that the fantasies of masturbation had never done and his penis became so hard that it hurt. He climbed on top of Danny and pushed himself between Danny’s legs. He had hardly started to move himself when he was struck and knocked flying from Danny’s back to fall onto the concrete floor. He raised his head to see his father standing over Danny, red faced and spraying saliva from his mouth as he shouted, What is this? What the fuck are you doing? Jesus Christ, Quinton how could you?

      Danny was on his feet, fumbling frantically with his trousers.

      Get out of here you little shit; get out of here before I shoot the two of you.

      Danny ran and Quinton climbed to his feet.

      Go to the house, boy and wait in your room for me. Christ what am I supposed to do now? How is this possible? Jesus Quinton, I loved you; you were my boy… my life. He sat down on the floor and started to cry.

      Quinton backed slowly out of the room and ran for the house. He too was crying as he ran: great racking sobs that shook his body physically.

      He had waited for some time before he heard the slow and heavy tread on the stairs and watched his bedroom door open to admit his father; his face blank and cold. Quinton started to say something but his father lifted up his hand to stop him.

      I want you to get up and leave the house. I do not care where you go or what you do, in fact I never want to know anything about you ever again. I never want to see you, talk to you or see you anywhere near this farm, this town or your mother. You must leave and go somewhere and die. I do not want you to hurt any of us ever. He held out some money and dropped it to the floor. "Take it and use it to get far away. I am going to the village, when I get back you must be

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