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In spending enough time in any place, even one so wonderous as El Dorado, there comes a moment when the excitement and grandeur give way, like summer weather, allowing a cloud of melancholy and regret to settle over one’s heart.
Such distress was currently written plain on Candide’s face. This worried the worthy Cacambo, of course, who had been relieved to see his master laugh and splash in the rose-water fountains, sucking the juices out of grapefruits as hummingbirds flitted about. Alas, even the sweetest joys and finest riches will never be enough when one has troubles.
“Ah, but when will I see Miss Cunégonde again!” Candide lamented one night. That they were housed comfortably, fed and fêted by none other than the King himself seemed to offer no relief to his aching heart.
Cacambo knew that his master had indulged too much in the sugar-cane liqueurs, which only served to make his moods worsen when night fell. “Perhaps some time spent in the company of the lovely young ladies of this land would take your mind off of her, until you are sufficiently reunited,” he suggested, ever-pragmatic. Candide first looked at him aghast, then with curiosity, then with distress, until sorrow at last painted itself on his features and he sighed in defeat, waving his hand.
“No, you go alone – for my heart remains faithful, despite all the misfortune and pain it has brought me.”
Cacambo stayed. Emboldened by the liquors and their adventures which had transformed their dynamic into one of equal familiarity, Cacambo ventured to ask his master a question that strayed beyond normal decency.
“Then you have truly not wavered – ever?” He was incredulous.
“No, not ever,” Candide insisted, his pride piqued and cheeks flushing with a fine color.
“Your fidelity is impressive.” Being possessed of solid common sense, he added, “It is why I must insist that you cast your attentions elsewhere. If you taste the pleasures of the flesh, you will forget about Miss Cunégonde, and your troubles besides – at least for one night.”
Candide fell into a silent contemplation, the gentle chorus of frogs peppering the warm night air. “What is it like?” he asked at last.
Lacking any pretense, Cacambo resolved to answer. He inquired if his master did not recall the kisses and touches that led to his expulsion from the Baron’s castle in the first place, that little prelude of pleasure that cemented forever his commitment to Cunégonde in his heart. With the conviction of first love, Candide informed him that of course he did, and that those memories were what drove him forward through so many hardships.
“Well, just imagine that, but far better.” His dark eyes twinkled.
“Truly?” Candide spoke with such earnest enthusiasm that Cacambo felt he must keep tempting him with the idea of pleasure.
“Yes, truly.” Their eyes met poignantly. “If I might make an offer – surely it is better to experience hands-on, than to discuss it in mere theory?”
The question lay between them like something dangerous.
“I’ve already told you,” said Candide, though his protests were weaker than before, “I have no intention to stray.” He paused, seeming as if he would say something, then sighed and said, “Miss Cunégonde is waiting for us!” and turned over to sleep in frustrated misery.
Cacambo longed to help his master with his burden, but he would wait. He knew he would come to him in his own time.
And it did not take long.
The next day passed as so many did in the land of El Dorado, with lavish meals, liqueurs flowing, and a parade of exotic birds, flowers, and beauties to serve them. And yet no sunlight could seem to dispel the cloud settled on Candide’s brow. Cacambo took notice, and all day his desire to make it disappear grew stronger – even if it need be by his own hand (perhaps especially by his own hand).
He thought the moment had come when they cooled off in the splashing pools, Candide’s clothing pushed up to expose bare arms and legs. They caught one another’s eye; breaths caught; then the moment was over.
It was only when they were alone again in their guest quarters, the cool of the nighttime breeze blowing through the room, did he offer once more.
“You are troubled,” Cacambo noted simply.
Candide sighed, his gaze trained on the floor. “No. Well, yes. But of course I am! Miss Cunégonde is waiting for us, after all, and I dally here in paradise.” But his words lacked conviction, and it did not go unnoticed.
Pressing his master’s arm firmly, Cacambo reassured him. “And once you return to her, you will surely feel better.” He could not say in good faith that all would be well, for he felt they were already in the best of all possible worlds.
He was about to pull away when the subtle bob of Candide’s throat caught his eye.
“And if I wanted to feel better now?”
Cacambo thought he misheard.
“And If I wanted to feel better here, now?” Candide repeated, his eyes wide. “Would you show me?”
Cacambo, ever prepared to adapt to any circumstances, quickly recovered his wits, and without a moment more hesitation he ran his hands up Candide’s arms.
“Yes,” he said simply. He did not miss the flicker of Candide’s gaze to his hands. His grip tightened. “I would show you now.” His hands trailed down the body of his master, coming to rest on his hipbones. “Lay back,” he urged.
Candide all too readily complied, the bulge in the front of his breeches hiding absolutely none of his excitement. He looked up at Cacambo with interest and a sort of expectation that almost made him seem younger than his years.
“Surely you take yourself in hand when you feel the urge?” Cacambo asked, his hands now working open the front of his master’s breeches as they had so many times in more innocent circumstances.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, almost shyly.
“And what do you think about?” Cacambo prompted, Candide’s erection springing free, already flushed dark and standing straight as if to advertise his long repression.
“I think of, ah, anything,” Candide gasped as the strong hand of his valet wrapped around his cock and gave him a firm stroke.
Cacambo almost smiled at this response, stiffening rapidly as well. “Go on,” he urged, enjoying the mental image of his master’s self-pleasure and resenting the fact that he hadn’t ever caught sight of the stolen moments.
“I was imagining what it’d be like,” Candide admitted, his back arching and his jaw dropping open from the sensation, “to fuck.”
“You should have come to me sooner,” Cacambo said hoarsely, then lowered his head and took Candide’s cock into his mouth.
Candide let forth a string of curses and blasphemies. “Ah, so good,” he groaned, and his hands came to settle on the back of his friend’s head and knotted in his hair. He watched as if amazed as Cacambo took him inch by inch into his mouth and then throat. “I might spill here and now!”
Cacambo set to work with pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as he strained his breeches ever more. He reached down with his free hand to rub at himself, because in truth the responsiveness and almost shy inexperience of Candide was very arousing to him.
It wasn’t long however, before that innocent curiosity turned into fervent eagerness, and he had to hold down Candide’s hips to prevent him from bucking deeper into his mouth, little gasping moans escaping him. Both were sweating profusely.
“Dear God, I implore you to show me everything,” Candide blurted.
A wet pop and a trail of saliva accompanied Cacambo raising his head. He smiled, eyes flashing darkly as he met Candide’s eyes. “One night is not enough to show you everything, I fear. But if we were to stay here long enough, I can.”
“Yes,” Candide gasped, his face red and his hands wandering, “That is what I want.” He seemed, for his part, to have forgotten everything outside of their two bodies and everything taking place between them. Cacambo’s cock gave a twitch of interest at that thought, and at last he freed himself from the confines of his breeches.
He savored the hungry look in Candide’s eyes when he spotted the heavy cock springing free at last. He stroked himself a few times, needing an outlet for the growing heat in his core. “You want to try?” He offered, gripping his cock.
“My God, yes,” Candide said, dropping to his knees with an eager ferocity that surprised Cacambo.
Cacambo moaned as Candide licked him from base to tip, letting out a wanton hum to let him know that he liked the taste, the heat. His ravenous kisses and licks had Cacambo dripping hard, and before long the two had positioned themselves on the bed so that the two might both work one another over with their mouths at the same time.
“Ah, fuck me, I think I’m dying,” Candide swooned as he released, shaking. Cacambo was soon to follow, coaxed by the wet heat and sight of his master’s pink lips wrapped ‘round his cock.
Only a few hours later, in the early light of dawn, they continued their lesson. Candide proved to be an eager pupil. It was Candide who slept with his ass firmly nestled against Cacambo’s crotch, Candide who woke Cacambo by stroking him, and Candide who grabbed the vial of oil before his poor tutor even had his bearings straight. But he was quickly brought to his senses by open-mouthed kisses and frotting.
“You told me you wondered what it was like to fuck?” Cacambo said, slicking his own hole as well as Candide’s throbbing cock. “I will show you: it is a pleasure.”
And a pleasure it was to see Candide’s face contorted with shock and ecstasy, and to hear his broken moan as Cacambo sank down upon his cock.
“Ah –” Candide cried, “Heaven!”
Cacambo carefully rode his master’s cock, savoring every little gasp and grunt that came forth from him, every last twitch of his member as they worked together to bury it deeper inside of him. Candide gripped him as if his life depended upon him – and perhaps it did – and so Cacambo could hardly begrudge it when Candide came again, his fingers digging in so deeply as to leave little bruises.
The two collapsed in a panting, sticky mess. The cool sheets were their only solace, and half-dazed at all that had happened, they drifted in and out of blissful sleep.
“Would you like me to find some women?” Cacambo offered later, only to be surprised by Candide’s sudden grip on his arm.
“No, I want to stay here with you,” his master said, mouthing at his throat. It was a surprise, but one that was more than welcome.
They stroked one another; they stroked themselves together. Slowly, carefully, Cacambo educated Candide in what it was like not only to fuck but to be fucked, and before long it had escalated to fervent, joyful fucking whenever they could.
A full month passed in this manner before the two were finally on their way, laden with red sheep and memories and all the gold they could carry, and while the parting was painful, Cacambo smiled to know that Candide looked at him with bright, affectionate eyes, the storm cloud of misfortune all but disappeared from his face.
Cacambo was certain they’d meet again.