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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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An African Seduction - 1
by Author on Africa (author@uwclub.net)
***
In a moment of weakness a white married woman is taken
advantage of by a charismatic influential African. (MF,
wife, intr)
***
Author Notes: The following story is entirely
fictional, despite its close resemblance to certain
events that took place when the author took his family
to Zimbabwe between 1991 and 1993. It is a reflection
on the experiences of many white expatriates and their
families working in Africa and the Middle East.
Names have of course been changed, even if they were
fictional (J).
This story was first published in Literotica.com but
has been relocated here to avoid that site's editorial
restrictions. As such it has been edited and revised.
Readers who enjoyed it there might enjoy the
corrections here.
There are going to be more stories published here, and
they are nearly all inter-related to what happened and
the four powerful and influential Africans who
successfully mixed money and power to gain the kind of
sex they wanted.
In Harare, in 1991, due to the economic circumstances,
there were nearly 4 million African men working the
factories there, compared to about 500,000 African
women. With 8 men black men to every African woman
there was a huge pent up sexual need. Since the
Africans quite sensibly left their own daughters on
their family farms, the 10,000 or so white families in
the city sometimes felt under sexual siege.
The Africans best equipped to win those sexual sieges
were the new African Elite. African multi-millionaires
who could not possibly spend all they were making.
Powerful, and politically connected they were, and are
untouchable. Men who would take bribes in their
millions, but would respond far more positively if the
bribe included one of those rarities in Zimbabwe a
pretty white woman, or the innocence of a white teenage
girl.
Where would they find such? Well they employed expats
to run their businesses. Expats who did not always
realise they had won the contract because their wife
was a beauty, or that his daughters were considered
prime material for bribing Africans clients!)
(This story was 1st published on Literotica.com and has
been revised and edited)
***
Part 1
Igwe held the tearful woman close in his arms. To be
frank he cared little for her tears, or her fears and
trauma's that had led to them. He did, however,
appreciate the full warm curves of her body as he held
her close.
With one hand around her waist he held her close, while
his other gently stroked her short dark hair,
comforting her. At six foot six inches he towered over
the latest white woman to join his philosophy circle.
His decision to form a philosophy circle had been a
stroke of genius in his campaign to seduce the
relatively few attractive white women in Zimbabwe.
Those disaffected with their life and looking for
relief from the boredom of endless poolside sunbathing
had been happy to join his circle. Their husbands were
happy to be left to drink beer in one of the many
exclusive hotel bars rather than join their wives
discussing philosophy!
Many had subsequently learned the folly of their
negligence when their loving 'faithful' white wives
gave birth to a bouncy, screeching, black baby.
Angel sobbed in his strong arms, only to glad to find a
man who understood her. Igwe was careful that his
burgeoning erection did not disillusion her.
His hand rose slowly to gently stroke her back. Her
natural reaction was to move closer to him and her full
firm breasts pushed against him.
At 34 years old, and with two children, Angel was lucky
to have full firm mounds that did not sag. Igwe
appreciated his luck in having those mounds pressed
firmly to him. He had no doubts how this evening was
going to end.
His time in America studying psychology had served him
well. Here in Africa he had no qualms about using the
knowledge gained to twist and manipulate the minds of
white couples. Enhancing their concerns, preying on
their fears, offering them security, pampering them,
while at the same time scaring them at the same time.
Preparing them to accept the need to please him. These
white couples were unnaturally afraid of the teeming
black masses of Africa. They were often only too happy
to accept a luxurious lifestyle, and often willing to
take part in sexual adventures, if that is what it took
to be part of the in-crowd.
Personally he preferred those not willing to be
seduced. It was much more fun bedding them!
"My husband just doesn't understand me!" Angel sobbed.
Igwe grinned as he stroked her hair and looked down at
the pretty tear stained face buried on his chest.
Stupid woman!
Why should her husband try and understand her? He was a
man! It was a woman's role to serve and please her
husband. African women knew their place, but these
confused western women had lost touch with their role
pleasing men.
'If only I could talk to him like I can talk to you!"
Angel sought to gather her senses, suddenly aware that
her nipples had unaccountable become erect as she
pressed against this charming, educated, and
sophisticated black man.
Igwe's nostrils flared as he took in the sweet
freshness of the white woman in his arms. Washed,
scented, and clean. So typical of these well brought up
English women that married skilled and educated
professionals. Yet so lacking in the basic
understanding or relationships. She was well presented
in her stylish western style dress. He would love
breaking her in. Teaching this woman her true role in
life. He dismissed her husband's acceptance and
tolerance of her strange concepts of 'modern
womanhood.' He regarded it as evidence of her husband's
weak will, and the failure of his masculinity.
"I understand," he murmured into her soft dark hair.
His hand rose from her back to gently stroke the
softness of her slim white neck. Angel was relieved not
to be held quite so tight, though his strong masculine
presence was comforting. His fingers on her neck were
soothing, calming, mesmerising as they drew soft
circles on her neck. If only her husband would stroke
her like this!
The sudden intrusive thought of her husband disturbed
her. She was acutely aware of the stiffness of her
nipples as they strained against the material of her
soft lacy brassiere. She had found herself dressing
differently since joining Igwe's circle. There were no
men in this circle, and all the other women took such
extra-ordinary care in their appearance. Angel had
found herself wearing lingerie she rarely wore for her
husband any more.
She did not want to seem rude to Igwe, and his strong
hands, while gently stroking, belied the power of this
man. They had a power over her that she sought to
suppress, even as tingles shivered the soft skin of her
neck.
He urged her to sit on his sofa and offered her a
Turkish Apple tea. She gratefully accepted and sat
demurely while he prepared the drink. She did not
notice as he lightly sprinkled crushed mbanje into the
drink. He was confident she would not consider the
presence of the crushed herb unusual.
She had been married to her doting husband Mark for 18
years. She was a faithful wife, and loving mother to
their two teenage daughters. A devout catholic, and
regular churchgoer, her current unexpected and unwanted
arousal disturbed her. The tea would be calming, help
her regain her distance, and reserve.
"He won't let me drive the car since the accidents,"
Angel complained.
Igwe stifled a laugh as he prepared the drink. Glad she
could not see his face. Of course, her husband had
banned her from driving! It was the one sensible thing
Mark had done.
"Hmm, well you have had three crashes in the last
month."
He turned back to a fidgeting Angel, and noted her
nibbling her lip. He would bruise those soft lips with
passion tonight. Angel ignored his words.
"He has undermined my status in the eyes of my
friends," Angel went on.
In doing so he had probably saved your life Igwe
thought, but he let it pass.
'Disgraceful, he should take more care of your
position!" He responded instead, knowing what she
wanted to hear.
Angel looked up at him grateful for his support, as he
sat close beside her on the sofa. She edged closer. She
found tears edging to the surface again, and cursed her
edginess and nervousness in front of this sophisticated
African. He was so different to most of the poor
Africans teeming through the streets.
Without warning tears coursed down her cheeks, Igwe
leaned over and pulled her close. He understood that
she was still recovering from a minor breakdown. That
she was weak and vulnerable. Her husband should have
been here, but he wasn't and Igwe intended to take full
advantage.
His black hand rose and lightly stroked Angel's soft
white arms. He cradled her into his shoulder. His hand
rose to cup the soft curve of her cheek. His finger
lightly stroked aside the salty tears. Angel snuggled
closer, unresisting as his hand lifted her face.
He was not a handsome man, though he was unmistakably a
powerful, dominant male. At 45 years old he was eleven
years older than her, but the years seemed meaningless.
His dark, craggy looks, his Saville Row suites, and
casual confidence all combined to make her feel secure
in his presence.
In many ways he reminded her of her burly strong willed
father. He had also been a businessmen with powerful
connections.
"Oh," she gasped.
His lips had descended and were kissing away her tears.
She smiled at this touch. His hand on her cheek held
her head firmly in place, as lips lightly caressed her
eyes. She closed her own, and lay still as his lips
closed over her eyes.
Her heart leapt. This should not be happening. Her eyes
flitted open, as he kissed her forehead, then dropped
to her nose, and she laughed. He grinned at her.
Then his lips dipped and met hers.
Her heart rate soared as this masterful man softly
kissed her lips. She sought to pull away, but there was
no heart in her effort, and his hand effortlessly held
her head in place, as the kiss became more demanding.
Angel melted into the kiss, her sweet lips responding.
It had been 18 years since she had kissed another man
than Mark, but now her lips were seeking out his
hungrily.
Igwe savoured the soft lips of the English woman. He
kissed, now lightly, now passionately; alternating in
his pattern, savouring the lips, he held her close.
Then his tongue slipped out and licked along the line
of those delightfully parted lips.
"Oh...please," Angel sought to push him away and
recover her senses. It was like pushing against solid
rock. For a 45-year-old businessman he seemed
remarkably strong. She had since the family's arrival
in Zimbabwe become to understand the remarkable
strength of African men. Most went from years doing
hard farm work, to the relentless and furious energy of
the burgeoning factories.
More than once that quick grope in a hotel bar, or
between the tight close aisles of a shop, had developed
into something more. With one hand holding her firm and
still, while a second explored, or a friend's hand
explored. At first she had been shocked and horrified.
She had screamed. But this was Harare, not a quite
English bookstore. She had quickly learned that her
screams simply attracted more African men.
Like hyena's scenting a kill they would swarm around
hoping for an opportunity to sample her charms. Not
that the Africans ever seemed threatening, even when
she struggled and sought to push them away. Always they
would have that happy grin as their hands rose under
her skirt, or fondled a breast, or bottom! The bare
faced cheek and sexual aggression of these men was
something she had never had to cope with in England!
Once, early after they arrived, she had taken her
daughters shopping. When an African tried to push her
into the changing booth she had screamed her help. Male
African heads had popped around corners, and over and
through shelves to see the fun. Men had rushed to the
vicinity, but instead of coming to her aid, 14 year old
Amanda and seventeen year old Rebecca had been seized,
fondled, and stroked. Her two bemused, confused
daughters held while grinning Africans touched and
fondled them. She was convinced that only the unusual
interference of the shop's security guard had saved
them all from a mass gang rape.
Grateful as she was she had refused his demand that she
give him her address. "For the report," he had said.
Even while shaken and her emotions ruffled she had
retained the sense not to give this African man her
address. He may be her saviour this time, but knowing
the address of a pretty white woman, and her two pretty
teenage daughters, may have been too much temptation.
Even if he only sold the information to more bold
criminally minded Africans.
She was not so naive not to realise that there was a
real 'market' in Africa for attractive white women, and
an even bigger market for pretty white teenagers.
Now as she sought to push Igwe away, she was reminded
just how strong he was. While one part of her told her
to be sensible and remember her husband. Another
stronger, suppressed emotion fluttered to the surface.
This man was so strong it was sending wicked signals to
her loins. She fought to control that irrational
reaction. She was a career woman, an intelligent
educated woman. She was happy.
Igwe tilted her chin, his mouth descended. With a
fierce passion his tongue darted into her mouth.
Her senses departed and she kissed him back.
Her lithe and nimble tongue seemed to have a life of
its own as it met Igwe's tongue, darting and
challenging. Even as she berated herself she breathed
in his masculine presence. His dark demanding presence
as his hands wandered unrestricted. This was
forbidden... her eyes closed and she welcomed his
demanding passionate kiss.
It seemed so long since her husband had kissed her like
this. The thought of her husband jerked her back to
reality. Her eyes flashed open and looked up at Igwe as
he kissed her. His eyes were locked on hers. His eyes
were dark, mesmerising, and powerful. She was losing
herself in those eyes, when she again sought to pull
herself together.
Then one of his strong black hands closed on her
breast.
"Oh...no, my husband," her hand rose and grasped the
hand at her breast. It was like trying to move a steel
girder, but this bit of steel, was warm. It cupped her
breast, and caressed and fondled. No amount of feeble
pushing on her part was going to free her breast. Then
his hand at her neck grasped her short page boy style
dark hair, and jerked sharply down.
"Arghh...oh," she gasped as her pretty white face was
pulled sharply up and presented to Igwe. She was not
used to pain, and the shock of it ran through her body.
Then his big heavy body seemed to bear down on her and
her lips seemed to open automatically to receive his
kiss.
She was shocked and felt betrayed as her body reacted
in ways it shouldn't. She didn't want to feel like
this.
She didn't, she really didn't...
Then his tongue met hers and her mind seemed to swirl
and fly.
**
Igwe grinned to himself as he played this naive and
innocent white wife. His hand had risen and clasped her
full and firm breast. He savoured its fullness. He
loved white women. They looked after themselves so
well. An African woman of 34, unless she had married
early to a rich and powerful man, would have spent 31
of those years in the fields under a not sun. She would
probably have nursed several children, and was unlikely
to have ever had a proper diet.
These white women took such care over themselves. Over
their figure, and diet, and appearance. As his hand
seemed to weigh the full breast in his hand he
estimated that Angel possessed breasts that did not
snag, and he delighted in it.
He cupped it, squeezed it, stroked it, and fondled it.
A white woman's breast. The breast of a woman married
to a white man. He remembered the 15 years guerrilla
warfare in the bush. The whites claimed to have won
that guerrilla war, but as he held and enjoyed the
fullness of that white breast, He knew no white
policeman was going to burst through his door. No red
faced angry white soldier was going to shoot him down
like a dog for touching a white woman.
His fingers found a stiffened nipple through the cloth
of her dress, and bra. A bra he noted that seemed lacy
and frilly. Had she dressed for him? He nipped that
thickened pert nib sharply.
The woman beneath him squealed into his kiss, but he
did not release her mouth, or his grip on her nipple.
Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain.
He released his grip, and she sighed into his demanding
passionate kiss.
Even as she relaxed he ran the palm of his hand over
her nipple, and felt her body tremble. He estimated
that excited little tingles would be surging from her
abused bud, as he fondled her that full mound and then
lightly stroked his thumb over the over-excited nipple,
enjoying her squirm in his arms.
So few of these well brought up, middle class English
women seemed to fully understand the nature of pain,
and its relationship to pleasure. He would delight in
teaching Angel. Oh yes, he would teach her all about
the pleasure of pain, and pleasing his cock.
He looked over at the door to his villa.
No, there was no sign of an outraged husband. He
glanced across at the shotgun on the wall. He laughed
quietly. If her husband did turn up and burst through
the door he, Igwe, was the one with the right to shoot
the intruder dead.
Not that such an eventuality was likely, though a small
part of him wished to be so. Four large German Shepherd
guard dogs prowled the gardens of his ten acre villa in
the exclusive Harare suburb of Borrowdale. Big bored
dogs that would have delighted in the sport of finding
an intruder. Chuku Olanes, his devoted bodyguard would
be alert. Keeping an eye on the CCTV cameras. Chuku
owed Igwe his life. After a moment in the war when
Chuku had been seized by a crocodile while creeping
across a golf course near Victoria Falls.
Quick work with a machete had denied the crocodile a
live meal. Chuku had rarely left his side since, and
had soon learned there were opportunities for Chuku.
Igwe after all usually found a new and interesting
white woman to seduce every few months and was generous
with his discards.
Igwe turned back to the lovely panting Angel, as she
lay half beneath him. Her eyes were wide as she looked
up at him. Those delightful now bruised lips quivering.
Her chest rose and fell, her breathing deep and
irregular.
She was a delightful English Rose in her prime. No, he
grinned to himself, the whites had not won the war
after all, as his dark hand began flicking the buttons
that held the bodice of her dress together.
"Noooo! Please... we have gone too far!"
"I love my husband he loves me!"
Her hands reached for his. He ignored them. Her efforts
were light and ineffective. Lacking the strength to
keep his eager hands from those firm white orbs
increasingly coming into view.
His hand pushed inside the dress. He delighted in the
sight of her lacy brassiere. A fashionable stylish bra
that did little to hide the rounded, full mounds
within. His hand swept the material aside and he took
the warm firm white flesh into his hand.
Angel gasped, and thrust her breast into his hand. It
was as though she had no control of her own body. Hot
sensations radiated from that strong hand. This was not
some boy struggling for a quick grope. This was a
strong masterful man taking what he wanted, and she
struggled against the sudden urge to spread her legs.
Igwe stared with delight at the slightly darkened
nipple that still held a touch of pinkness, such a
contrast to an African woman. He delighted in the
sight, and the feel of that surprisingly firm orb,
which as he had guessed did not sag. His head dropped,
and Angel jerked beneath him as his greedy lips took
that nipple into his mouth, then widened further to
gorge on round white woman flesh.
Angel jerked as his hot mouth enclosed her nipple. His
lips suckled, and then her drew her nipple deeper into
his mouth and she felt his teeth nibbling on the
sensitive tip. Her toes stretched as pleasurable
sensations overwhelmed her breasts, radiating across
her chest and sending tingling sensations down to her
curling toes.
"Oooooh!"
Igwe grinned and worked his teeth hard. He could feel
her shiver and shake in response to his attention to
her aroused bud. His tongue curled around the erect
nipple and he was delighted when her back arched, and
she inadvertently pushed her breast into his mouth.
Her hands were trying to push him away and he allowed
her to push his shoulders back. He released the nipple.
He looked down at her. Her eyes were bright. Her
untended left breast was in stark contrast to the
overexcited right breast.
"Please, enough, I should be going," Angela pleaded.
Her hands on his shoulders seemed to be holding him at
bay, but she made no attempt to cover over her breasts.
He grinned and lowered his head to her left breast.
"No!" Her slim white hands strained to keep him away.
Angel struggled to comprehend how easily he ignored her
straining hands his mouth descended to her left nipple
and hot wet sensations wracked her nipple.
God! He was so strong! She gasped as his teeth chewed
on her nipple, then his tongue soothed the agitated
nub. Her back arched and she consciously sought to pull
her breast free. Her efforts were distracted by the
feel of one of his hands sliding under her dress and
stroking upwards over her shapely white thigh.
She wanted to pull away, but she was trapped on the
sofa. His heavy body, holding her down while his teeth,
lips and tongue doing indescribably things to her
excited aroused nipples, and now his hand was under her
dress.
She felt it each the top her stocking and find the soft
bare skin of upper thigh. His hand was hot, and softly
circling. A black hand under her dress, stroking gently
the soft silky white skin that only her husband had
ever touched.
Thoughts of her husband surfaced and she renewed her
efforts to push him away, then stopped. Would her
husband want her to stop him? It was Mark who had joked
about how easy it would be for her to take a black
lover here.
No one would ever know, not even her husband!
Igwe's hand reached higher and she 'allowed' him to
push her legs apart. She tensed as his hand found and
covered her silk clad vulva, and she jerked as they
lightly stroked.
Oh God! I should not be letting him do this, but then
she wondered if she was indeed allowing him to do this.
He was bigger and stronger than she was. Far stronger
than her husband! His hands, lips, teeth were making
free with her body, despite her attempts to push him
away. She could not stop him, even if she wanted to.
A little nervous flash of thought went through her.
Never in her life had she ever not been in control.
Here on this sofa, she knew she was not in control.
Sensations were wracking through her body. Pleasurable
sensations. She did not want to betray her husband. A
finger pushed aside the silken gusset of her panties
and slipped into her wet feminine centre.
She flushed in embarrassment as she realised just how
wet she had become. That Igwe should be able to
discover the level of her excitement was deeply
embarrassing. Her hands dropped to exploring hand
seeking to push it away. Igwe caught one of her hands
by the wrist and pulled it to one side.
He guided her hand between his own legs, and her
fingers brushed the hot, hard length of his exposed
manhood. Her hand jerked away, she was startled by the
heat and hardness of his member. She had been unaware
of him releasing his cock from his trousers. Igwe
however, retained his grip on in her hand brought it
back to his aroused and excited black cock. At the
second contact as his hand seemed to push her slim
white hand along its length. Angel found her hand had
grasped its thickness.
She marvelled at its girth. The thick pulsing veins
seemed to throb in her soft hand. She struggled to
comprehend its thickness and her hands squeezed it. She
realised with a sense of disbelief and a certain dread
that her fingers could not meet when they closed around
it. It was too thick to fit inside her. Not that she
was going to allow him to try.
Igwe's hand was back on her wrist and he guided her
hand up and down its hard length. Her dread at its
thickness was increased and heightened as she realised
it was also long, just how long she had yet to
discover.
Angel now needed no encouragement to explore its
length. Her husband had joked that black men had big
cocks, and she knew as did he that it was not true, but
Igwe's manhood seemed to defy natural justice. It was
both long and thick as her hand slid down its underside
seeking it base she was shocked to feel the thick
circumcised head push against her upper arm. Shocked
she released it. It couldn't be that long! She sought
to look down at it but the pressure of his heavy body
in hers prevented her from doing so.
At that point Igwe pushed a thick finger into her body.
The effect on Angela galvanised her into attempted
action. There was only one consequence of the
continuation of her inaction, and it must not be
happen!
She was married. She loved Mark, her husband. She must
not allow this to proceed further!
"Let me up!" She demanded. Igwe ignored her. His lips
busy nibbling on the soft white skin of her slender
neck. His finger pushed deeper. Her writhing legs
closed on his hand seeking to squeeze his hand out from
between her legs.
"This is too much, we have gone too far! I'm married."
Igwe grinned at the reminder that the delightful curvy
body seeking to wriggle from beneath him belonged to
another. A white man at that! He circled his finger in
the hot, wet, tightness of her married pussy and thrust
his finger in a further inch.
As his finger slid deeper Angel found her hand gripping
his cock tightly in response. Her fingers could hardly
connect around it. She knew black men were said to
possess larger members, but what she held in her hand
was beyond anything her imagination had ever
considered. The cock throbbed in her hand. She could
feel gnarled veins throb and pulse with blood and eager
sperm.
Igwe with drew his finger and shifted in position. His
weight lifted from her and she was able to look down at
his cock. Her eyes widened as they confirmed the size
of cock her hands had explored.
He was huge!
"My God!"
Igwe grinned. He delighted in the shocked reactions of
the expatriate wives when they discovered the size of
his cock. He had rarely found one complacent and
anticipating such a cock. The surprise on the white
wives, was a pleasure, but the additional mix of fear
that engulfed them enhanced his own pleasure.
If the surprise of white wives was delight to observe,
the reaction of the white teenage girls who travelled
to Africa with their parents was even more so. Breaking
in a 13 or 14 year old white virgin was his favourite
pastime, and the look on their eyes when they saw the
size of his cock was always a memory to treasure.
Angel was no virgin, though he suspected his first
penetration was going to take some effort.
Angel was staring at his cock with fear and
fascination. As though she had found herself confronted
by a striking cobra and was afraid to move. Igwe
enjoyed the conflicting her emotions.
"Is this what your husband dreams of?"
Angel looked up at him perplexed.
"Doesn't your husband have fantasies of his sweet wife
being ravished by a big cocked African?"
Angel flushed. The pink glow suffused her cheeks and
descended to her breasts. How did he know? It was not
just her husband who had such fantasies, though she
would never admit that to anyone, especially her
husband!
Igwe's cock was not natural! It was too thick!
It was easily as thick as her wrist. As Igwe shifted in
position and both his hands went up under her skirt. As
his body shifted more of his cock slid out of his
trousers, and she goggled as its length became
apparent.
It was far too long to go inside her! It would rupture
her womb!
"It's too big..." her words came out in gasps. Her
breathing had become heavy. There was a tension in her
throat, and a heat in her loins. Igwe grinned when, as
he tugged at her panties, her hips rose slightly
allowing him to ease her panties down.
She was his...
"Oh God! Please...My husband..."
Igwe grinned and his mouth dropped to close her pleas
with another kiss. Angela darted her head to one side
to avoid the kiss. Her movement presented a small
delicate white ear. He grinned and instead of closing
on her mouth, his lips caught the soft lobe of her ear
and he nibbled it. Angel seemed to jerk beneath him as
her body was galvanised by the soft touch of his lips
on her ear. His tongue licked the lobe as his hands
worked under her dress, enjoying the feel of the
shapely full thighs of a well-fed white woman.
He dipped his tongue inside her ear curling it, pushing
deeper, twirling his tongue, in the soft sensitive
interior. He could feel her breasts surge and push
against him in response to the sensations she could not
avoid as his tongue excited her. His hands pushed her
shapely white thighs apart, her dress rising up around
her waist.
He positioned himself between her legs.
Angel was oblivious to her danger. The teasing of his
tongue was merciless, and exciting. He really knew how
to excite her! It was wicked! It was forbidden. She
jerked her ear free of his tongue, turned to face him
to tell him to stop. She looked up into his eyes. Eyes
that were full of passion and desire.
Desire for her...
Her heart surged. She was confused, as her heart raced
and her senses seemed to pulse. She humped her hips and
flushed with shame at her action.
She cursed her weakness, but when his mouth dropped to
hers she did not resist. Her mouth opened in response
to the passionate demand of his kiss. When his tongue
slid between her lips, her own tongue darted to meet
his and locked with his in a passionate wrestling
match.
Then his cock nudged the portal of her feminine centre,
and her eyes flared wide. She stared up into the dark
powerful passion filled eyes of the African above her.
Igwe met her gaze. He loved these moments. The shocked
surprise in a white woman's eyes as she realised he was
about to enter her. He thrust his hips and broke free
of her eagerly kissing lips.
"Oooooooohhh! ... No! ... You mustn't!"
He thrust again and he passed through the portals to
her womanhood.
He paused. It was always so surprising how tight these
white women were, even those married with children. Her
pussy clasped his cock tight. Her sheath was like that
of a virgin protecting its hymen. He savoured the hot
tight grip on his cock, leaned forward and thrust
deeper.
Another inch of his thick manhood slid into her, and
her legs flew wide in reaction. He grasped the hot warm
curves of her hips and lifted, as he thrust. His cock
was now three inches into her, and past the restricting
grasping portal. He thrust again, sliding a further few
inches into her.
"Ooooooh...no... I'm bursting!"
He roared a triumphal laugh and thrust again. Her hips
starting jerking spasmodically beneath him, her legs
grasped him then released him. She struggled to push
him way. She tried wriggling free from him.
Igwe held himself in position, while she wriggled and
struggled. He enjoyed the feel of his cock as is it
slithered deeper in her well-lubricated sheath.
Angel stropped struggling realising belatedly that her
efforts had only resulted in his cock going deeper
inside her. He was too well ensconced inside her how.
She was not going to gain her freedom by her own
efforts. She was going to have to let him have his way
with her.
A warm tingling overcame her at the thought she was
helpless to prevent this dominant African taking his
pleasure between her legs.
She was going to get fucked.
Exciting sensations swept from her loins as she became
accustomed to his thickness. Her abused pussy seemed to
be clinging to his cock, but already it was relaxing
and adapting to its size. She realised that he had
stopped thrusting into her. She looked up at his face
and realised he was savouring the pleasure of being
inside her. Without conscious thought her pussy
squeezed on his cock sending further excitement
shooting through her. To her shame and pleasure the
muscles in her sheath seemed to caress his cock. She
tried to bring her body back under control.
Then when she had got herself back under control she
looked back up at him. He was gazing down at her. She
flushed under his gaze.
"Is that it all? Is it all really inside me?"
Igwe grinned.
"No."
Then he ran his hands up from his grip on her curvy
derriere, sliding them along the soft skin so that he
could secure a firm grip on her shoulders.
"No, that is not all," he laughed and thrust again.
He enjoyed the startled look on her face as he thrust
and thrust again. This time firmly holding her
shoulders to keep her in position as he pushed deeper.
He relished the glove like grip on his cock as it
seemed to but against her uterus and push through
further deeper unused barriers.
"Ooooooh...oh God...oooooh."
Igwe freed one of his hands and reached up to grasp her
short dark hair in his grip. He jerked her head back.
Pain shot through her, but seemed to send further
powerful surges down her loins. She grasped his cock
with her sheath instinctively. She felt the slap of his
balls against her bottom. It was in she realised. If
his balls were slapping against her bottom he must be
all the way in! She stirred beneath him.
He looked down at her pretty face. He enjoyed the sight
of her pale slender neck. He noted the dilated eyes,
her gasping breath. Her unfocussed eyes, he gave her
time to recover. When her green eyes finally focussed
on him again he grinned down at her. She smiled faintly
back at him.
"Now," he said, "I am going to fuck you!"
Her eyes seemed to widen. Then he felt her legs wrap
around him.
He grinned, she smiled nervously back at him.
Then he started to fuck.
She wailed like a hyena in heat as he withdrew then
thrust.
His hips rose and fell beneath her splayed thighs.
He savoured the silky softness as the inner thighs of
another man's wife clasped him to her.
A white man's wife lost in passion beneath him.
Was there any greater pleasure?
Yes, of course, there was, the pleasure of his seed
spurting up inside her clinging tightness.
He gripped her shoulders and took his pleasure,
thrusting and driving his manhood deep inside. Enjoying
the exquisite pleasure of her tight womanhood.
Her excited wail betrayed her orgasm beneath him as she
shook and shivered beneath him. He paused briefly. Then
resumed his efforts.
"Please stop...I have come already... enough..."
He laughed and renewed his urgent thrusting.
"Oh please...too much... didn't you hear I've come
already!"
He ignored her and thrust away. She wriggled and
squirmed seeking to push him away. It was too intense,
too powerful, the feelings too strong. Then too her
shock a second orgasm overtook her, she jerked and
throbbed in spasms beneath him. Shocked, disbelieving,
this could not be happening she had never had two
orgasms before!
She collapsed in his arms defeated. There was no point
resisting. Igwe above her continued his thrusting and
surging between her legs still eagerly clasped around
him.
A rolling wave of orgasms seemed to overcome her as she
abandoned the struggle and let him use her as he
wished. This was a strong man who took what he wanted
and with a thrill of excitement she realised she was
glad he wanted her...
Hot blossoming heat surged in her loins and she
suddenly realised he had come inside her. The thought
seemed to trigger another even more heated orgasm. It
was as though her body was eagerly surging to receive
his seed!
A horn sounded from outside the villa!
A long blast of sound that broke the moment.
Igwe broke free from. His cock long and slick with her
juices slithered out of her and she looked in disbelief
at its length and thickness.
"That will be your husband. Come to take you home."
Angel looked up at him in shock and alarm as the real
world returned.
The horn sounded again, and Angel struggled to her
feet.
Her husband was waiting! She struggled to refasten her
dress over her breasts. She pushed her dress back down
from her waist. She saw her panties lying discarded on
floor and snatched them up.
She turned to Igwe.
"I..."
"Go," he interrupted her. "Don't keep your husband
waiting."
She turned fled, pressing her panties into her handbag.
She burst through the door of his villa out into the
African night.
The sudden heat of the night passing over her, she saw
her husband watching for her. A look of concern left
his face as she appeared.
She scurried over to her husband's car as she tried to
collect her shattered emotions. Her world had just
fallen apart on a black man's cock.
"Hi honey. You OK?"
She glanced at Mark as climbed into the passenger seat
then looked away as guilt overcame her. This man loved
her and she had betrayed that love.
"Hmm...I'm fine."
"You look flustered?"
"I was...I was in the bathroom." Her breath caught in
her throat as she said it. She had just lied to her
husband!
He leaned across and kissed her lightly on the lips.
She had a sudden thought that he would smell Igwe on
her. That he would smells the sexual excretions seeping
from her.
"No matter. Nice to see you again. Bill made a right
prat of himself tonight. We had to virtually carry him
out to his car. You would think with that beautiful
wife of his he would be rushing home after work instead
of getting plastered every night."
Angel gathered her thoughts as Mark prattled on. She
calmed down then fiercely clamped her pussy tight as
she felt surge of semen leak from her unclad loins!
Continued in part 2...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 45