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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 - 2
by Author on Africa (author@uwclub.net)
***
Angel's new lover developes his business plan based on
the advantages of expat workers with pretty wives and
daughters. (MFF, intr)
***
(Revised and edited since first published on
Literotica.com)
Part 2
Joseph Okuru sat nervously across from Igwe Orizu as
his boss perused the folders he had presented to him.
Joseph worked in the personnel department of Orizu
Building. One of many companies that Igwe owned. It was
a very busy department. Four hundred Africans worked
for the company, a mix of men and women. The problem
for Joseph was the workforce turnover. It was not
because people left the company for another company.
The problem was simple and stark. Death was the biggest
cause of turnover. He had carefully studied the figures
himself. In the last two years over 100 staff had died
from illness, variously described as flu, cold, fever.
None stated the true reason.
Aids.
According to the country's President there was no such
illness, and so it never appeared on Death
Certificates. Finding replacement staff was not so
difficult, but since half the population of the country
were under 15 years of age, skill and experienced
workers were hard to come by.
Fortunately for Orizu Building the government had set
pay levels for all categories of employees. Good for
business if not for employees! So an experienced and
skilled older work could not leave his company for a
better paid job elsewhere. Since all the pay rates in
all Zimbabwe Company's were exactly the same switching
from one employer to another led to suspicion of
incompetence, or worse misdeeds. So Africans rarely
changed jobs. That still left Joseph very busy man
finding replacements for the staff and organising whip
rounds for grieving widows and children.
Not that the folders Igwe was perusing related to
African staff and workers.
The folders Igwe was reading comprised the latest CV's
and backgrounds on UK professionals being suggested by
International Recruit. Joseph suspected that the
company would grind to a halt without the input of the
white engineers, quantity surveyors, project managers
and accountants like David Burton.
White expats did not die of aids. They came for two
years and usually left after that. In those two years
they brought modern management skills. A desire to work
hard, a notion Joseph struggled to understand, and a
drive and energy that sometimes alarmed the African
staff.
Igwe was an intimidating and powerful African. Joseph
knew well his history in the war of liberation that
they had fought and lost against the whites. Igwe's
friendship with the new African rulers meant that he
now sat in the Chair of one the biggest developing new
construction firms. Joseph could not really comprehend
the wealth Igwe was reported to own. That wealth and
his contacts drove the business development. He could
afford to employ the white expats that made his
business profitable.
He was also ruthless, and Joseph believed the rumours
that at least some of the disappeared staff had been
fed to the local crocodiles inhabiting the water holes
at the golf course.
Certainly the tax inspectors that Igwe had taken for a
game of golf had never been seen again. Tax inspectors
had not visited Igwe's business since.
Igwe's thoughts as he perused the folders in front of
him could not be further from his own. He held in his
hand the picture of Diana Windsor. She was a blond
bombshell with a cascade of yellow hair that perfectly
set off her blue eyes. He could sense the spark in
those eyes. He suspected fire and passion smouldered
behind those eyes. He turned the photo over and scanned
her statistics. She was 26 years old. Her figure had
been discreetly written noted on the sideline 36-28-34.
He shivered at the fought of getting his around the
waist of this lovely creature and then exploring the
fuller curves. Yes, she was just what he required from
the wives of a potential employee.
Having satisfied himself with the important issue he
picked up the file of her husband, Paul Windsor. He was
a Contracts Manager. Twenty years experience. A quick
scan revealed that he had owned his own business up
until 9 months ago. Then the recession that was doing
so much damage in the UK had closed his business.
Igwe liked recessions in Europe and America. It
guaranteed desperate professionals running from the
taxman and in need of work and an escape from debts.
Looking through the papers it seemed Mr. Windsor had
all the competence to be a skilled Contracts Manager.
He turned over the photo and was surprised to see in
the notes that he was 19 years old and had a figure of
34-26-30!
Igwe looked across at Joseph. He had little time for
incompetents. He could see Joseph quail under his gaze.
He liked that in an employee! He continued to stare at
Joseph, who squirmed in his seat.
Joseph was struggling to overcome his sudden fear. His
boss had missed something but if Joseph mentioned it he
might be accused of suggesting Igwe had made a mistake.
Making such a suggestion to his boss filled Joseph with
terror. So her squirmed under Igwe's gaze and dithered.
Igwe stared.
Joseph realised inaction was going to get him into more
trouble than he was in already. He coughed and gestured
towards the photo.
Igwe stared at him. Hiding his amusement.
Joseph edged forward and took the photo from Igwe's
hand he carefully peeled the two photo's apart.
Photographs did not travel well in the steamy African
heat. He handed the photo's back looking apologetic and
embarrassed.
Igwe took the two photographs. His interest was not so
much in Paul Windsor as much as the 19 year old with
the figure. He looked down at the pretty face of young
woman.
"That's Lauren. She is Mr. Windsor's oldest daughter."
"Oldest daughter?"
"Yes he has two daughter's... there should be another
photograph."
Igwe shuffled through the papers and found another
photograph. He pulled it out and looked it over. Sweet
sixteen and never been kissed.
"16?"
"No, she is 15 years old. Her name is Samantha."
Igwe smiled, even better.
Joseph relaxed.
He turned over Paul's photo and saw that he was 42
years old.
"His first wife died and he re-married," Joseph
explained.
Igwe pondered these facts for a few moments. A 42 year
old man with, no doubt, a demanding younger 26 year old
wife, and two nicely developed teenage daughters who
had become young women in their own rights. He would
imagine there would be a few tensions in this family.
No doubt Paul was struggling to keep his new pretty
wife happy, and two daughters clashing with the new
wife would add to the tension of his company going
bust. Yes Paul Windsor was looking for an escape route.
"Hire him."
He opened the next folder. He glanced over the features
of a young white man, then glanced down his details.
They described a recently qualified engineer of 26
years, single. He frowned. He did not employ single
white men!
"Joseph?"
Joseph, who had been relaxing and his thoughts
drifting, was startled back to attention. He
immediately saw the folder spread across Igwe's desk,
and realised Igwe's concern.
"If I may...Sir?"
Igwe leaned back allowing Joseph to shuffle through the
file.
"Here," he handed over a hand written blue coloured
letter. There was a paper clip attaching a photo of a
very pretty young woman, with long dark brown hair.
"His fiancé," Joseph explained. "If he is offered the
job they will marry and have their honeymoon on the way
here. She is a Sunday School teacher."
Igwe's interest picked up at that last point. A Sunday
School teacher! That would be an interesting challenge,
and fresh from her honeymoon! There would be a few high
level bets on how quick she could be introduced to a
black cock in those circumstances!
"Hire."
Igwe shuffled the papers together, and pushed them
aside.
"Do you have the new contract I told you to prepare?"
Joseph nodded and handed the crisp white sheets over.
"Good! Send Mr. Burton to me."
Joseph quickly rose, he was glad to escape the risky
confines of Igwe Orizu's office.
**
David knocked politely before entering the office of
his domineering African boss. He dreaded his boss. He
had always treated him with professional courtesy.
David knew his worth and value, and that he was an
invaluable key player in the company's affairs. David
liked it that way. However, Igwe Orizu had seduced his
wife. In one sense that was OK. They had been married
19 years and things had gone stale, his wife boring.
Igwe had seduced and transformed his wife and rather
than being annoyed David had found the situation
arousing and exciting. Who would ever have believed his
wife would have allowed a black man between her legs?
Now his wife did things in bed without him asking or
needing to encourage her.
Igwe had taught her things to do with her tongue that
made David shiver at the memory.
But that was his wife. The horrifying discovery that
his pretty daughter had been drawn into Igwe's depraved
circle had shocked him to the core. He felt intensely
guilty that seeing his pretty teenage daughter
underneath a rutting middle aged African had given him
an erection! He had thought it had been his wife!
When he had discovered it was his daughter, and not his
wife, his erection had not subsided. He had felt guilty
since and confused ever since.
Over the week since he had witnessed his daughter's
ravishment he made up his mind not to renew his
contract. There were three months to go and he
suspected that this was what Mr. Orizu wanted to see
him about.
He entered the office and sat comfortable in the chair
opposite the owner of the company. Igwe had never stood
on ceremony with his key expatriate staff.
Igwe was checking over an A4 sheet of typed paper,
which he could see had the company seal on it. Igwe
looked up.
"A new contract," he waved it at David Burton.
David coughed, and shifted on his seat. His decision to
leave crystallized but he struggled with the nerve to
tell this man that.
"I had been meaning to speak to you about that. I... I
have decided not to renew my contract." He looked
across at Igwe, who was looking back at him. David saw
no hostility in that returned gaze. His confidence
rose.
"I have had a long thought about this, and after two
years here it is probably time we returned to the UK."
Igwe nodded across the table at him.
"That is of course your decision and you have every
right to make it. I respect your decision and will
regret your departure, but that is expected after all
we only offered you a two year contract, and I had not
yet considered whether to renew it."
David nodded relieved this was going so easily, but
then his eyes turned to the contract that Igwe held in
his hand. What contract was that? If he had not been
planning to offer him a new position, what was he
holding in his hand?
Igwe noticed David's focus on the contract in his hand,
and laughed.
"You misunderstood. This is not a contract for you. I
would like you to give Tammy her copy."
"Tammy...my daughter... what contract?" David's throat
went dry. His chest tightened. He felt suddenly ill.
Igwe pushed the contract across the mahogany table.
David's eyes fell to it. Not really wanted to read it.
He could see the company seal. His heart pounded.
"I have offered your daughter a contract of
employment."
"But...her visa is tied to my contract. She is not
allowed to work."
Igwe waved his hand in casual dismissal.
"You should know that such technicalities are easily
overcome in Africa."
"But she is my daughter! She is only 18 years old!"
"Quite old enough to work. Had you not noticed... she
is a young woman now." David cursed inwardly. Talk of
his daughter being a young woman brought up the image
of her eagerly thrusting her jutting breast into the
mouth of the greedily sucking Nasam Togbi.
"I'm her father I think you should have discussed this
with me first."
Igwe smiled confidently back at David.
"What sort of job have you offered her?"
"Marketing...public relations... that sort of thing."
"But she has no experience of that." David protested.
"I have found your daughter to be biddable...easily
trained."
David's stomach tightened.
"But...what would this job entail."
"Corporate entertainment."
David dithered. He did not really want to know what
Igwe meant by corporate entertainment, especially in
relation to his pretty daughter.
"This contract. It's for eighteen months. That cannot
be we leave in three months!"
"You are perfectly at liberty to leave at the end of
your contract Mr. Burton, and of course Sarah. You will
see that Tammy's contract is under seal. Whatever you
may do Mr. Burton Tammy will not be leaving. Don't
worry your daughter will be well looked after."
David's heart sank. The thought of his white teenage
daughter being well looked after by Igwe Orizu and his
black cronies was intolerable, but if they did not stay
she would be on her own. Much as he disliked the
situation, he could not leave Zimbabwe leaving his
daughter behind.
"But you cannot just sign up my daughter like this!
Didn't you think to discuss this with me first?"
"With you?" Igwe's incredulous tone, betrayed his view
of David's importance in the matter.
The moment was disrupted by bedlam breaking out. From
the direction of the railway siding raised male voices
were accompanied by a shrieking female voice.
Igwe sighed.
Why was running a business such a trial! Incompetents
surrounded him!
"Just give this to Tammy and tell she is expected at
L'Escargo tonight at 7pm. If you want your contact
renewed I will expect you to take her there to make
sure she gets there safely."
He rose, and crossed to the window, peering out in the
direction of the railway siding.
David rose, staring at the contract in his hand, while
at the same time wondering at the escalating commotion
outside. Was Igwe really expecting him drive his
daughter to an assignation? L'Escargo was one of the
most exclusive restaurants in the city, and the food
was tremendous, as he knew only too well.
Igwe released a curse, and turned for his office door,
momentary surprised to see David was still in his
office.
"I..." he waved the paper in his hand. "Errr...what
time should I pick Tammy up afterwards."
Igwe frowned at David, was the man mad. Did he really
think his daughter would be going home afterwards? He
needed to get down to the siding.
"Mr. Burton I have things to do."
He strode out the door.
"Back to work!" He roared at the faces pressed to the
windows of the offices.
He grinned as everyone jumped and quickly returned to
their desks. He reached the end of the corridor and
bounded down the stairs.
"Michelle! You man the phone not the door!"
Startled the young lady jumped. She glanced at Igwe's.
A glance filled with fear and concern. Then she
scuttled back to the reception desk. Igwe took a moment
to enjoy the shock of wavy blond hair. The slim neck
and as she leaned forward to tuck her chair in he
enjoyed the view of the full firm orbs struggling not
to burst from her low cut top. A sweet voice and a full
bust were Igwe's primary requirements for a
receptionist, and of course being pretty and white.
It encouraged African businessmen to call and do
business. Michelle oozed sexual promise, and one way or
another Igwe delivered her up whenever a new contract
was in the offing.
**
He pulled open the door and strode outside into the hot
African sun. It beat down hot and hard but Igwe thought
nothing of it. Sun and heat was normal. Bedlam was also
normal, but Igwe had little tolerance of it within his
own business. Bedlam affected production!
He roared at the milling Africans pushing and pulling
each other around an opened railway carriage. The train
had delivered a cargo of marble from the port of Beira
in Mozambique.
Had his workers found a stowaway? That was hardly new,
or warranted this uproar!
"Roger. What is going on?" He roared at Roger
Bullivant. His 60 year old white head of security. The
60yo was a former Rhodie commando who had been happy to
stay on a black controlled country.
While Roger was normally belligerent and aggressive in
his job, as fitted his history and role, he seemed to
be on the outskirts of this group as an observer rather
than breaking it up.
At the sound of Ugwe's bellow he immediately burst into
the group scattering the squabbling, grabbing and
pushing Africans. Even at 60 years old he still
commanded the respect of the Africans, whose respect
for white people had grown rather than diminished as
ordinary Africans watched with despair as more powerful
Africans seized not just political power, but stole the
country's wealth in blatant acts of corruption.
Roger needed nothing but the power of his voice and a
few shoves to separate the milling Africans from their
frightened quarry.
The sudden sight of long blond hair appearing as the
Africans parted allowed Igwe to realise the cause of
the bedlam. They had found a white female stowaway on
the train, hard to believe as that was! Africans
regularly risked life and limb to leap from bridges on
to passing trains for a free ride back to Harare from
Mutare, but a white doing the same was rare indeed.
The African workers now that their attention on the
blond white woman had been disrupted noticed that Igwe
was bearing down on them and promptly scattered.
"Chuku," Igwe shouted.
Roger was speaking into his two-way radio, and a number
of security guards were quick to respond. His chauffeur
Dominic was already rushing to the scene.
The young blond woman remained curled in a ball, her
fear palpable. The rough attention of the African
workers had left her in a state of terror. Igwe could
see her trembling.
"Here girl," he reached down offering her his hand.
She looked up and quickly glanced around as though
looking for a bolthole. She found none and returned to
the speaker. She took in his immaculate suit and his
well-groomed appearance. This was the man who had
scared off much larger group of rough Africans. He
looked like a Government Minister, or someone
important.
She reached up and took his hand, allowing him to pull
her to feet. Even as she did so she glanced around.
There were a few Africans workers still present, as
well as the elderly white man who had done nothing to
protect her from them. Her hand tightened on the black
hand she grasped.
"Tell Sarah to go and fetch some of Tammy's clothes.
They should be suitable. Best if you take Sarah to her
villa and bring her back Dominic with some clothes."
His chauffeur strode off.
"Roger, we will take her to the guest villa for her
safety. Make sure it is guarded day and night."
Roger nodded before delegating that job to two of the
security guards present.
"Chuku. Go and calm down the office and fetch some food
from the canteen, and plenty of water!"
He turned to the white girl tightly holding his hand.
"Are you from Mozambique?"
She nodded.
"My parents farm...overrun by the rebels... they...
they are dead!!!"
He watched her brief struggle to control her emotions,
but she held them back. She was tough, not like his
soft expatriate staff. He guessed she had been brought
up in Africa. Taught to control her emotions,
especially in front of black men!
No doubt she had experienced many days of fleeing and
hiding to during which she had learned to put these
things behind her. Lucky for him the rebels had not
caught her.
Was that a sign of resourcefulness?
"What is your name?"
"Hayley."
"Well Hayley, you come with me and we will have a chat.
We will have to decide what is to become of you."
Igwe turned and led Hayley away from the offices, and
the railway siding. They came upon an area that was
marked by a pristine lawn and flowering shrubs. In the
centre was a white washed cottage with a shaded
veranda.
Even as they approached Africans rushed to the building
carrying trays, and even from this distance Hayley
could smell the delicious aroma of hot food. Her body
tensed and she leaned forward ready to run for the
food, but the last remaining vestiges of her shattered
dignity held her back, with Chuku strolling along
behind grinning and swaggering.
Igwe climbed the few short steps onto the veranda.
Hayley savoured the coolness of the shade, and the
relief from the hot sun, Igwe let her in to the
interior of the cottage and waved at the array of foods
prepared.
Hayley looked at Igwe, and at his nod ravenously fell
on the food. It had been 3 days since she had eaten.
The watching Africans he dismissed including Chuku. He
looked the girl over as she ravaged the delicately
prepared food. His staff knew the importance that Igwe
placed on entertaining guests.
She was slim he noted, with nicely rounded hips. She
could hardly be out of her teens. Her curves were not
restricted to her derriere. Her breasts were full and
jutting where they strained against her ragged
clothing. Her legs looked shapely and full beneath her
trousers.
While she ate he walked over to the fridge. Inside as
expected he found fresh orange juice. In the freezer he
found ice cubes, which he was confident would have been
made from bottled water. It had taken him time to train
his staff not to offer his guests water taken from the
tap. He mixed the two and returned to the white woman.
When she saw what he held in his hands he could see the
grateful relief in her eyes. As she took the drink from
his hand, his other arm curled around the slim waist.
She made no effort to pull away. He enjoyed the soft
warmth of her curvy waist, and gave it a slight
squeeze. He was gratified that she did not tense up, or
seek to pull away.
"Tell me Hayley, how long did you live in Mozambique?"
She looked up at him, and he enjoyed the flecks in her
blue eyes.
"I was born there. I have never lived anywhere else. My
parents took me to South Africa once."
The sudden thought of parents sent quivers of emotion
through her and he hugged her tight. He could feel her
pull herself together. He admired that fortitude.
"And in all those years have you come to an
understanding of Africa?"
She looked up at him. He wondered at the expression in
her eyes and how well she had been able to hide her
thoughts.
"I have a through understanding, if not of Africa, of
African men and what they want?"
Igwe grinned and his hand caressed and squeezed that
slim rounded waist.
"So tell me Hayley. Who can I contact to help you?"
Her eyes nevertheless wavered and she looked away.
"Do you have any family in Zimbabwe?"
"No."
"Any aunts or uncles in Mozambique? You mentioned South
Africa, did you visit relatives?"
"No it was more of a business trip. I have no family
left. My father was an only child. His parents died in
a boating accident. My mother met my father when he was
in England. I have never seen her family, who never
once visited us."
Igwe nodded, delighted in what he was hearing, though
he did not let it show.
"When you passed through Mutare's border you just hid
on the train. No one even knows," his voice paused for
a moment while his hand slid down over her hip, to
caress the delightfully soft round curves of her
bottom. She did not pull away. "No one even knows you
are in Zimbabwe do they?"
Hayley looked up at him. He felt her bottom flex and
stretch in his hand, but still she made no move to pull
away.
"No, no-one...will you look after me?"
Igwe grinned at the blonde teenager, with the soft warm
curvy bottom.
**
There was a knock at the door to the guest cottage.
"Come in," Igwe called out.
Sarah, the wife of one his white executive's bustled
in, with a bundle of clothes under her arm. She looked
straight across at the young white woman, a look of
concern on her face. She took in the tray of food, and
the drink in her hand. Then her attention was drawn to
the ragged torn clothes.
"I have brought some of Tammy's clothes."
"Sarah, this is Hayley, why don't you take her through
to the bathroom and see she has a shower."
He squeezed Hayley's bottom as he urged her in the
direction of the bathroom. As Sarah passed by following
the girl he slapped Sarah's more rounded derriere. She
frowned at him and he laughed, and made to lunge at her
bottom again. Sarah squealed, and scampered from his
groping hand. Flustered and embarrassed that he should
behave this way in front of a strange woman. Though at
the same time pleased that this man could make her feel
like an attractive young woman again.
Igwe watched them both disappear and reached for drink
for himself. He passed thinking. She was cute little
bundle but she was, clearly, used goods. The Africans
on her father's farm probably had a good time with her.
Taught her how to enjoy sex. Not like the innocent
daughters and emotionally suppressed white wives her
usually enjoyed debauching.
He would have some fun, but he would find a more
profitable use for her than his own entertainment.
**
Half an hour later Hayley and Sarah emerged for the
bathroom. The transformation in Hayley was dramatic.
Her tiredness was still reflected in her eyes, but
otherwise she was fresh and clean. Her hair, still
damp, had lost the dust and burs picked up in the
cattle truck. Sarah had dressed her in a long flowery
dress. The strong sun shining through the window
highlighted the curvy woman's body beneath.
He smiled at the hovering Sarah. She had done a good
job.
"She has had a stressful time." Her concern over Igwe's
immediate intention was obvious.
"You may go now, Sarah," dismissing her concerns.
As Sarah left he rose to his feet. He had prepared a
Pimm's Nr 1 for the girl, no doubt its familiarity
would provide her with some reassurance. The girl eyed
the pint jug with desire for its cool refreshment. The
jug was full of crushed ice, and slices of banana,
apple, orange, and slices of avocado. The alcohol
content mixed with lemonade was high.
He handed her the drink and she took long eager gulps.
"So you have lived all your life in Africa."
Hayley nodded.
"You say you understand African men."
Hayley's eyes took on a wary look, but she nodded.
"Would you like me find someone to look after you?"
Igwe's hand rose to lightly stroke the side of her
face. Hayley looked into his eyes and could see the
carefully controlled lust. Her confidence returned. He
was just like the rest.
She nodded. He nodded back at her thoughtfully.
"Nice dress, but it is in the way. Take it off."
He noticed her nervous swallow, then her resolve firmed
and she reached behind to release the buttons. In
moments the dress lay on the floor by her feet. As
expected she was naked underneath. Her body was shapely
and full. A typical 18yo old, with full firm pink
tipped breasts that had not a hint of sag. She had a
slim waist, and shapely filled out thighs. Her mons had
a light coating on blond hairs.
She stood proudly before his gaze. She had none of the
timid nervousness he found in confused expatriate women
from the west. He had no doubt she was sexually
experienced with black men.
He removed his own clothes.
He watched her eyes drop to his loins and take in the
sight of his own stiff member. There was no alarm in
those eyes as she took in his length and thickness,
from which he concluded that there could be no further
doubt that this white orphan had known black men before
today.
She made no attempt to get away as he approached and he
slid his hand under chin and turned her face up to meet
his. Her eyes were clear, with neither desire not fear.
She had a lovely heart shaped face with soft lips. He
lowered his head and kissed them. She made no attempt
to pull away as his kiss became more demanding.
His other hand slid around her slim waist and pulled
her close. He savoured the heat and curves of her body
pressed against him. His cock was crushed between their
bodies and he enjoyed pushing it against her soft
warmth. He took her hair in his hands and pulled her
head back, and looked down at her pretty face.
She looked back calmly and controlled.
It surprised him that she should be so calm in these
circumstances. He speculated that she had withdrawn
into herself as a self-defence mechanism. Not that he
cared for anything but the soft lush curves of her
body, and the hot tight wetness that would satisfy his
lust.
His head lowered and he kissed the soft, pink cherubic
lips. They parted easily to accept his tongue, though
her tongue was perfunctory in response. He savoured the
soft sweetness of those lips. Kissing them thoroughly,
his tongue traced their soft curves as though he could
lap up their sweetness.
His left hand dropped to the easy softness of her round
bottom. It never failed to delight him after spending
so long in the bush fighting the white colonialists to
be able to enjoy a different kind of crop. The young
white women who the daughters of the white men he had
fought so long ago.
If only those white colonials could see him now, as a
thick black finger slid down probing and tracing
through the cleft of her white bottom. His finger
probed at her bottom hole, and her failure to show
alarm or concern served testimony to her sexual
experience.
His right hand stroked her face, caressed her fair
head, his fingers trailing through her blond silk,
slightly damp hair. Her eyes closed. He wondered if she
was fighting her own response to his attentions.
He urged her back onto the bed. She offered no
resistance as he pushed her back. Her breasts were
full, though not overlarge. He enjoyed their firmness,
taking one in his hand as he rested on an elbow above.
He took her left breast in his black hand and squeezed
the soft malleable flesh in his hand. Enjoying the way
her soft skin seemed to ooze out around his fingers.
Tired of her easy compliance he squeezed the pink rose
of her nipple hard, and enjoyed the sudden jerk and
squirm of her slim body.
At last a reaction, he thought. Though her eyes
remained calm and untroubled, as though she had been
expecting this treatment. Her breathing had quickened,
with its consequent effect on her full, pert breasts.
He grinned and lowered his head to take a swollen pink
nipple into his mouth. He licked lightly swirling his
tongue around the orb, before his teeth worried it. He
raised his head, enjoying the comparison of one highly
aroused darkened nipple, wet from his attention, and
the still pink if erect nipple of her right breast.
It remained untended for only a short time, before his
teeth gripped tightly and he enjoyed her sudden alarmed
squirming as shooting flashes of pain enveloped her
chest.
Tired of this preliminary play, his hand slid down over
the curves or body, gliding over the slight curve of
her stomach, and into the delta of her loins. Her lithe
curvy legs slid apart to allow him easy access. He was
almost disappointed to find her vulva already wet. His
exploring fingers slid apart the entrance to feminine
sheath.
He decided to waste no further time and moved on top of
her. Her thighs moved apart to accept him. He lined up
his cock, enjoying briefly the hot wetness of her
juices soaking his cock then he pushed inside. Her
sheath opened and accepted him, and he slid deeper. He
encountered little resistance and she merely grunted
beneath him as he thrust harder.
Her hands came up to grip his shoulders as he settled
on top of her and began a rhythmic thrusting. After a
few moments her shapely legs rose and encompassed him
pulling him into her loins. He enjoyed the feel of her
warmth but did not fool himself that she was becoming
excited. This was a white woman who had learned to
accept the attentions of African men. Learned to
accommodate and please them. As he picked up his pace
her arms went around him and she started to hump her
hips to meet his thrusts.
He looked down at her. She was such a pretty white
woman, with her heart shaped face. Her blond hair
seemed to flair out around her head as he humped and
thrust. Her nose was small. Her teeth were biting her
lower lip, perhaps betraying an excitement she was
trying to hide. He buried his cock deep inside her and
watched her lips part as he gasped. Yes he determined,
she was not immune to sexual pleasure.
He stepped up his thrusting.
She was young, pretty and white and in his bed.
His pace increased.
The surge of his excitement burst inside and he
collapsed on top of her. Not caring that his heavy
black body crushed her.
**
He rolled off her. Thoughts back on his business and
what needed to be done. Taking Hayley had been a matter
of demonstrating his power and testing her submission.
It was over. She had not been particularly passionate
or responsive, but then again she had gone through an
ordeal.
He smiled at the thought of her parents. Killed in
Mozambique by rebels as they sought to get their
daughter away from the rebels. She had fled from one
group of black men straight into the bed of another.
Wry irony filled his soul as his black hand patted her
shapely white thigh.
Then he rose from the bed and quickly dressed.
"Wait here," he commanded as he left.
As he strolled back to the office he reached for his
mobile phone. Flicking it open he opened one of the
folders and typed a two-word text message.
"Auction 7pm."
He speculated that Hayley would fetch £35,000 Stirling.
She was young and pretty, but no virgin. He would have
to make sure the bidders did not discover her
passivity. He would make a nice profit at no
investment. He suspected she would not complain about
her new circumstances.
He strode through the reception with a quick glance at
Michelle. Her bust was prominently on display and a
dazzling smile greeted him. He grinned once he had
passed from her sight.
Bounding up the stairs he noticed with some
gratification that no one turned away from him back to
their work. They were already working hard.
He flopped down in his leather chair and glanced at his
diary.
Hah...Tuesday... it was his Philosophy Circle meeting
tonight. His thoughts immediately focussed on the Ice
Queen. His pet name for Angel Scott. He wondered if she
would be there tonight. Probably she had taken fright
and he would never see her at his Circle again. But if
she did turn up, after what happened last week, then he
would undoubtedly get in her knickers again!
He grinned. Her emotional confusion would be fun to
exploit.
**
The door to the cottage opened and closed.
Hayley looked up from the bed to see the black man
standing there. At least she hoped he was a man. He
looked more like a gorilla without hair.
Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath.
His pig like eyes seemed to devour her body as she lay
there naked, tired and used.
She sat up and looked around for something to cover
herself with. The bed was bare except for the sheet she
sat on.
She heard the sound of the African taking a step
towards her, and her head flicked back to him.
She saw his eyes focus on her bouncing blond hair as if
in wonder.
She looked at him again and her breathing grew heavy.
He was a brute of a man. No manners. No courtesy, or
finesse.
Big muscular, and lusting.
Her heart started to pound.
He took another step. His eyes had now switched to her
breasts which now were rising and falling to match her
own heavy breathing.
She could see the desire in those eyes. Eyes that did
not hide the fierce demanding lust.
Her pussy flooded with liquid mixing with Igwe's sperm.
She was much more excited now in the face of this black
brute!
She recognised him now. It the bodyguard... Chuku
Olanes she thought his name was.
As he took another step towards the bed she edged
slowly back on the bed.
He stopped, grinned in confident leering way that would
have scared many women.
Hayley's pussy throbbed in anticipation. She edged a
few inches further back.
She watched as he removed the suit jacket and carefully
set it to one side. Igwe did not like his bodyguard
wearing creased clothes. His trousers went next and she
stared at his powerful muscular legs. They looked like
tree trunks. She shivered.
His shirt came next. His arms were so thick and muscled
they would have made a heavyweight boxer look like a
lightweight.
Her lips opened and deep sigh seemed to escape her
lips.
He was so like Jo-Jo, her father's African foreman
chargehand.
The man who had taken her virginity...
Taken had been the word.
No courting, or flirting. No charming words. She had
been going through a confusing period. She had always
been a brat, but at that time he behaviour had been
increasingly outrageous.
On her fourteenth birthday Jo-Jo had found her
thrashing her new birthday horse after it had bit her.
A quietly furious Jo-Jo had snatched the whip from her
hand. Seized her firmly and frog marched her into the
barn.
She had been so surprised, that she had allowed him to
lead her. When she recovered from her surprise, she had
sought to pull away and realised just how strong he
was.
Inside the barn he literally hurled over the straw
bails, and before she recovered heat flared from her
buttocks as the horse whip descended. Shocked she had
just lain there as the blows descended. Then she
started shrieking, but no one came to help. Her parents
were at the Farmer's Market.
Jo-Jo thrashed her and not one of the workers sought to
interfere. Not much love or care for the bitch brat on
that African farm.
Later he tossed the whip down. The sound of their heavy
breathing was the only sound in the barn.
Then he had taken her clothes off.
She had not resisted.
He had not been gentle... that had only excited her
more as he thrust through her virginity.
The next night, after her parents had gone to sleep,
she had sneaked out to the barn. He had been waiting,
sitting on a bail of hay and lightly slapping his thigh
with the horsewhip.
Her confusion had departed with her panties.
She finally found something interesting on the farm...
When he flicked his wrist she had obediently lain
across the bale of hay.
**
Now hundreds of miles from home in another country.
Chuku Olanes stood naked above her. His cock throbbing
and erect bounced in front of her face. She turned and
scrabbled across the bed.
Chuku grinned as the luscious young white woman
attempted to scramble away. He was not fooled. His hand
grabbed for her ankle and hauled her back. A shriek
escaped her. Not a loud shriek of course, not a shriek
that would bring others running to the rescue. He
enjoyed the feel of her squirming in his grasp.
He pulled her easily towards him enjoying the sight of
her curvy bottom shaking. He pulled her to the edge of
the bed and pushed her down firmly.
She lay before him, curvy bottom presented to him.
He dropped to his knees behind her and grasped that
bottom and pulled the soft curvy cheeks to expose the
delicate dimple between.
Unused, or at least not used recently!
He saw the girl's hands tightly grip the sheets, and
grinned at the knowledge that she knew what to expect.
He did not wait or make preparations. He was horny. He
thrust.
Hayley shrieked, a full, throated and gratifyingly loud
shriek.
Chuku hoped the whole office had heard.
Those white men that Igwe relied on to provide him with
managerial expertise may earn a lot of money, but he
wanted them to live in dread of Chuku Olanes and what
he might do to their women!
So he thrust again and Hayley shrieked again. That wail
of pain gave him a shiver of pleasure. His hands
grasped that slim white waist. He could feel the
tension in the girl beneath him and he worked his cock
deeper. His muscular body covered the girl, and his
teeth sought that slender white neck and bit.
Hayley gave one tremendous spasm, then she started to
shake in an unmistakable orgasm.
Continued in part 3...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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